BLAZE: Enemies to Lovers College Hockey Romance

by Eddie Cleveland

  Me: You needed to be here 10 mins ago!!!

  I stare at the screen, unblinking. Waiting for some sign of life. Waiting for him to read my message. Waiting for those little dots that tell you someone is texting. Waiting for Blaze to stop letting me down.

  “I’m sorry, Priscilla, but there’s a guide expecting us inside. We have to go.” The women’s swim coach gently puts her hand on my shoulder.

  “He’ll be here any second,” I plead, but even I don’t believe my words.

  She gives my shoulder a squeeze. On her face is the look of pity you’d give a jilted bride. “Then how about you meet up with us when he gets here?”

  “Yeah, a quarter after never,” the girl with box braids whispers to her friend, and they laugh.

  “We really have to go,” the swim coach says.

  “I understand.” I drop my head in defeat. “We’ll find you inside when he gets here.” It’s a lie… one that I’m stuck telling myself because the entire group leaves me in their dust.

  It’s just me and a bunch of lifeless parked cars. My phone isn’t giving me any sign that Blaze is going to pull through. My heart sinks. It’s one thing for him to show up at the game last night, strutting around like a flamingo on steroids. It’s entirely another for him to ditch out on this.

  I don’t want to report this to Coach Wilson, but what choice is he leaving me? Even though this is one hundred percent Blaze’s choice, I still feel partially responsible. Maybe covering for his late nights and ignoring his defiant drinking was a bad idea. At least, I hope that’s the part I had to play.

  There’s also that whole having sex with him thing. Is that why he isn’t respecting me now?

  No, if there’s one thing Blaze has perfected, before he ever remembered what I looked like naked, it’s being an ass.

  A cold chill shivers down my spine. I still don’t know what I’m going to do, but freezing to death isn’t going to help me figure it out. For now, I’ll join the group inside. I guess I’ll call Coach Wilson once we’re done at the children’s hospital.

  I cross the road separating the parking garage from the main entrance. Out of nowhere, a big, black vehicle comes barreling toward me. I manage to leap up onto the curb as it squeals to a stop next to me, sending slushy spatter everywhere, including all over my shoes.

  Shaking my feet, I fling the little bits of ice off. I’m about to go nuclear on whatever asshole is behind the wheel when the side door flings open, and Blaze pops out next to me.

  “Made it.” He grins at me. He reaches inside and pulls out a big duffel bag and slings it over his shoulder nonchalantly… like I wasn't almost flattened by the familiar Escalade.

  The front passenger window lowers, and Etta sticks her head out. “I’m so sorry, Priscilla! I’m pretty sure my brother wouldn’t have hit you, but he’s a shitty driver.” She yells that last part over to Griz. He frowns at her from behind the wheel.

  “Blaze needed to get here fast. I got him here fast. What’s the problem?”

  “Oh, besides speeding, running a light and almost crushing Priscilla, there’s no problem.” Etta rolls her eyes.

  “Oh, I wasn’t that close. You’re so dramatic.” Her brother shakes his head.

  “Okay you two. Thanks for the ride.” Blaze slams the side door shut, and Griz pulls away.

  “Bye,” Etta calls out. I wave back at her, but I doubt she saw me. Griz hasn’t learned anything from his close call. He speeds away from the hospital.

  “You’re late.” I focus all my fluster and frustration on Blaze.

  “I had to get some stuff.” He shrugs. He’s not the least bit bothered by my frown.

  “What did you have to get? Did you steal the mascot head again?” I nod at his hockey bag.

  “What? No. Why would I?”

  “I don’t know. You’re the one who made a viral video wearing it.” I’ll never admit to him how many times I’ve pretended to be the chick in that video. It always works. Every. Single. Time.

  Blaze blinks like he’s trying to translate another language in his head. “And you thought I’d make another video? At a children’s hospital?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised. There’s more than enough women on staff and empty closets.”

  “Right, so in this scenario, I go up to some hot doctor... ‘Hey wanna bang in the stock closet?’ And she’s into it, so I drag my duffel bag in with us and just pull out the Warrior head?” he mocks.

  My cheeks burn up. In fact, they’re blazing. That’s actually the perfect word because Blaze is the only person I’ve ever met that makes me blush so freaking much. He looks too happy every single time it happens. He loves it. I hate it. And he loves that I hate it.

  “I don't know!” I sputter. I wish I never mentioned the stupid mascot head. “You're the one who made the video. If your twisted mind hadn’t already done this once, I wouldn’t have this job. You know what? You’re late, and we’re only getting later. Let’s just go inside.”

  “What, never wanted to fuck a bobble head?”

  “Let’s go!” I turn on my heel and march inside. Blaze follows me in through the main doors, chuckling.

  There’s no sign of our group anywhere. I should’ve asked the swim coach what floor they were going to. “I’ll go talk to them at the information desk. Can I trust you to behave that long?”

  Blaze adjusts the duffel strap on his shoulder, unfazed by my tone. “Don’t bother. I know where we’re going.”

  “I take it this isn’t the first time you’ve been selected to volunteer here?”

  He walks over to the elevators and pushes the button. He won’t look me in the eyes, which is weird. Normally he’d be trying to get me flustered and smirking as he enjoyed the show. He’s off his game, and I don’t mind it one bit.

  “Nah, but I've been here plenty,” he answers.

  He gets us to the right floor, and we slip in seamlessly with the rest of the Westbury athletes. I’m not sure why Blaze is so quiet, but I’m grateful he is. Today might work out fine after all. I’m relieved I don’t have to call Coach Wilson and report Blaze missing. I almost feel like I might even be getting good at this job. Except for that whole sleeping with the guy I'm supposed to keep out of trouble thing.

  “And, finally, this is the new physiotherapy equipment that Westbury’s generous donation helped us pay for.” The elderly man with silver hair and a dark-blue blazer who has been guiding our tour takes us for a closer look.

  We all shuffle into the room and gather around. He’s well into explaining how they use the electronic pulse technology when I notice the exercise bikes on the far wall. They’re so small. Every patient of this hospital is a child. I know life isn’t fair, but that seems exceptionally cruel.

  When the group starts to move, I take another look around. Where’s Blaze? My head swivels as I start scanning the room. Did he go to the bathroom? When did he drop off from the tour? Faint laughter from across the hallway catches my attention, and my eyes go from wide to rolling back in my head. Across the hall, Blaze is in another room. I can see him through the big glass windows. He’s over there laughing and flirting with a pretty woman in scrubs.

  For the love of… seriously? The woman touches his shoulder and giggles. Blaze is eating it up. Sighing, I leave the group and head over to collect him.

  “Yeah, sorry to interrupt.” I am not. “The tour is that way.” I poke my head in the room, but Blaze ignores me.

  “Yep. We’re almost ready for them. We’re just getting set up in here.” It’s the woman who answers me.

  Getting set up?

  Before I can question any of this, children start to stream into the room, and I walk in just to stop blocking the door. Some of the children are wheeling IV drips around, others are being pushed in wheelchairs. There are children missing hair and others missing limbs. They all have one thing in common, the excitement on their little faces.

  The rest of Westbury’s athletes line up around the front of the room. They
open back packs and bags, pulling out all kinds of cool giveaways.

  “Hey kids.” The woman who was flirting with Blaze talks over the murmurs and muffled voices. “You all know me, I’m doctor…”

  “Jane!” The room reverberates with the voices of probably thirty children.

  “That’s right.” She beams. So, maybe that smile isn’t one she just gives Blaze.

  “Today we have some guests from the University of Westbury,” Dr. Jane continues. “Does anyone know what the Westbury teams call themselves?”

  “Uhhh.”

  “Tiger cats?” a little boy with very thick glasses and a conical hearing aids guesses.

  “Unicorn princesses!”

  “Super heroes?”

  “Those are all great team names.” Jane smiles. “But the teams at Westbury are called the Warriors. And since they helped raise money for our new physiotherapy equipment, they wanted to come in and say hi to the people who use it. So, can you little warriors give a big clap for these Warriors?”

  The room erupts as the kids clap and shout and some even sing and randomly dance.

  “What’s in the bags?” A frail little girl in a wheelchair struggles with her words. She seems winded by just her question.

  “You guys want to know what we’ve got in our bags?” A guy from the basketball team amps them up more.

  “Yeah!” they cheer.

  “I can’t hear you.” He cups his hand to his ear.

  “Yeah!” The room almost vibrates with their voices.

  “Well, I hope you’re ready for some of the slickest swag you’ve ever gotten because I’ve got some Westbury water bottles for all of you.” He starts handing them around the room.

  “Water bottles? You call that slick swag? Come on.” The athlete with box braids and strong opinions on Blaze chimes in. “If you want something cool, how about you check out these keychains? What do you think of these?” She holds a handful over her head to more cheers.

  “Keychains are lame,” her friend from the parking lot cuts in. “Now some Warriors flip-flops are way cooler than those.” She gets in on the Oprah-giving-away-cars action.

  The room is crackling with excitement. You’d think it was Christmas. All the kids have growing piles of swag on their laps and in their arms.

  “Awww, no.” Blaze dramatically looks inside his duffel bag. “Was I supposed to bring swag? I don’t have anything special, just these Warriors stickers.” He pulls out a handful. “I mean, sure they’re cool stickers. They say Warriors, and they got the logo, but they’re no flip-flops, right?”

  He passes them around the room, and the kids quickly lose interest. Out of all their gifts, Blaze has the least impressive ones to hand out.

  “Wait a minute…” He looks inside the bag again. “I don’t have any swag, but you know what I do have?”

  “What?” the children yell back at him.

  “I’ve got favorite animals to give away. Who here has a favorite animal?”

  Every hand goes up.

  “Ohhh, me! Me!” they cry out.

  “Okay, what is your favorite animal?” Blaze asks a little girl with big eyes and no hair.

  “Meow,” she answers.

  “Oh, a cat? Well, let’s see here.” He pulls some long balloons out of the bag and a black hand pump. I watch with disbelief as he fills the balloons, ties them off and twists them up. It probably takes about a minute, but he hands off an adorable, purple kitten balloon animal.

  The room is pure chaos after that. Blaze has a way of spreading chaos no matter where he goes. But in this case, it’s not a bad thing.

  The kids go wild, ignoring the other swag. They just keep calling out animal requests.

  “Can you make any animal?”

  “I want a seal!”

  “Can you make an eagle?”

  Blazes’s balloon bonanza takes over in here. He fills each one like they aren’t even challenges. Balloon animals keep getting made until every kid has one, and the rest of the crew is packing up. Then he makes a few more for the kids who accidentally popped theirs as the other athletes say their good-byes and clear out.

  Finally, even the stragglers clear out, and Blaze packs his duffel bag back up. I feel bad now that I thought he was trying to sneak in some kind of PR problem for me. He actually brought a hockey bag full of pure joy.

  “That was pretty cool,” I admit.

  Blaze smiles, but it’s not in his eyes. “Thanks.”

  “I’m going to call Coach Wilson and tell him what a great job you did here. You made a lot of kids happy today, Blaze.”

  “Uh, sure. Sounds good,” he seems distracted as we walk back out in the hall. “Am I free to go now?” He stops and locks onto my eyes. There’s something in his that unsettles me, but I’m not sure why. I guess it’s because he’s so serious. So quiet.

  “Yeah, of course. You can leave.”

  “Thanks.” He walks away, leaving me in the hall wondering exactly who Blaze is. I saw a glimpse of what lies beneath the surface in his eyes. One thing is for sure, there’s more to him than I thought.

  16

  Blunt the Pain

  Blaze

  On the way out of the hospital, I pass the cafeteria. I still remember the last meal I ate here. Logan had the healthiest items available, a salad and soup. How was that four years ago?

  When my brother didn’t harp on me for my lunch choices, that’s when I knew something was up. I had cheesy lasagna on one plate and greasy fries piled high on the other. Mr. Future Doctor didn’t even bat an eye. He looked so nervous.

  “I’ve got a girlfriend.” I can still hear him saying it.

  “Is it serious?”

  “Well, I’m gonna propose to her, so I’d say so.”

  He went on and on about how amazing Tiffany was. How she’s so pretty and smart. Except he was using words like ‘gorgeous’ and ‘genius’. It was a lot of gushing for my high school, teenage mind to handle. I stopped listening until…

  “So, you’ll do it?”

  “Huh?”

  “If Tiffany says yes, you’ll be my best man?”

  “Of course.”

  Turned out the fucker wasn’t exaggerating. Tiffany is just as stunning as he said. Probably as smart too. I didn’t talk to her at the funeral, so I couldn’t say for sure. If I knew my last conversation was going to be that one in the cafeteria, I would’ve listened to every sappy word he said about her.

  The cold winter air is biting at me as soon as I get outside. I park my ass at the bus stop next to the main entrance. Griz has classes all afternoon, not that he’s my fucking taxi, so it means he can’t pick me up. The glass booth stops the bitter wind, but it makes me feel like I’m on display at a museum.

  The worst part of waiting for the bus is how much time it gives you to think. I spent so many weekends here with my brother, I can see him all over this place. I pull out a blunt and light it up. I inhale the smoke deep into my lungs. Blunt is the perfect name, that’s exactly what I’m trying to do… blunt the memories. Blunt the pain. My eyes are red, but it’s not from the weed.

  I never told her he was going to propose. It seemed cruel to bring it up, like dumping salt on an artery bleed. I saw her heart shatter when they lowered Logan into the ground. Two days before the accident he was talking about spending his life with her. Instead, we all lost him forever.

  Marijuana smoke swirls around me, fogging up the bus shelter.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  Prissy appears in the cloud like a fucking vision. Her frown makes her look older. More like her mom. She’s gonna be just as beautiful when she gets older. Although, I might prematurely age her…

  “You can’t use that here.”

  “Don’t you ever go off duty? I’m fine. You don't need to micromanage my every move.”

  Prissy studies my face. Her shoulders slide down, and her eyes soften. “You’re right. Come on. I’ll be off duty. I won’t nag you, promise. You don’t have to wait for a bus. Le
t me drive you home.”

  “Yeah?” I flick the cherry off my blunt and put it away.

  “Yeah, of course.” Prissy’s phone makes a noise. Her face pinches with worry as she reads the screen.

  “If there’s a problem, I can wait for the bus. No big deal.”

  Prissy waves me off. Or maybe she’s waving the marijuana smoke away. “No, it’s just my mom.”

  “Don’t you mean your roommate?”

  Her glare, that blush. Why does that make me feel better?

  “Our cat didn’t come back before Mom left for work this morning. I’ll just drop you off quickly, and then I’ll look for Mr. Whiskers. Come on, I’m parked over there.” She nods to the garage across the street.

  We walk over together, our feet crunching against the salt pellets on the road. “You know I can’t turn down a good pussy hunt. I’ve got nowhere to be. Let’s go look for your cat.”

  “Yeah?” She looks up at me.

  “Yeah.” We stop at her car. “But first, do you mind if I put my bag in your trunk.” I wiggle the hockey bag slung across my shoulders. “It might be a tight fit.” I drop my voice and give her a wink.

  “Oh my God. Put it in the backseat and get in the car.”

  It’s so cold that the metal on the belt buckle burns my skin when I clip it in. Prissy gets her little car running, but it’s freezing air blasting from her heating vents. She drives out of the parking garage, and, by the time we’re out on the road, the air is starting to warm up.

  “You know, I didn’t say I had a roommate to be cool or whatever.” She looks over at me briefly. “It’s because my mother and I are really close. I pretty much think of her as my roommate.”

  There’s truth in her voice, but a tinge of something else. Embarrassment? I’m not sure why. It’s not like I care.

  “Living at home is a sweet deal.” I shrug. “I still go home every summer.”

  Even though it’s been four years, there’s still part of me that expects to see Logan when I go. I can still see him towering over me with his easy-going grin. He made it hard to get out of his shadow. Literally.