BLAZE: Enemies to Lovers College Hockey Romance by Eddie Cleveland (ebook reader macos .txt) 📕

even after you fucked that up for us, everyone still tried to make this birthday special for you. But you don’t give a shit because you can’t get fucked up. Because you don’t give a shit about anyone but you.”

“You’re right. I don’t give a shit. I’m out of here.” I walk away.

I’m probably supposed to go sulk in my room like a twelve-year-old who got grounded. Instead, I grab my jacket and keys and get my boots on. I don’t know where I’m going, but I know I’m not staying here. I’m probably going to miss out on a wild game of pin the tail or musical fucking chairs, but I’m out. I can’t stomach anymore of this. It’s a bit too Stepford Wives in suburbia for me.

The only time I want to feel like I’m partying in the suburbs is if I’m fucking all the wives at a swinger party. That’s a birthday party I could get behind. Fuck Player and his college-marriage and white-picket-fence dreams. I’m going to ring in my twenty-first the way nature intended, drowning in booze and pussy.

7

Happy Birthday Priscilla

“You’d make beautiful babies.” My date leans in when he says it, white wine tilting in his glass. His green eyes are fixed on mine. Damon is a very handsome guy talking about making babies on a first date. The flag might not be serial-killer red, but it’s some shade of red.

“Oh, okay.” I nod without knowing how to respond. I take a drink of my wine instead, hoping to let the awkward moment pass, but he just keeps staring at me. Waiting for me to speak.

“I’m not in a hurry to find out.” I look down at the dessert that he insisted we share. The one I specifically said I didn’t want. The huge slice of cake sits between us with two forks, and again he’s waiting for me, expectantly.

Damon lifts his fork and waits for me to do the same. It’s weird. I’m not sure why I grab mine. I guess it feels less awkward than dealing with his staring. “That’s too bad. I’m sure at your age you could have a bunch of kids pretty quickly. You probably wouldn’t even need that much downtime,” he says like he’s bargaining a deal.

“Yeah, that’s not in my five-year plan.” I crinkle my nose and put my fork back down.

“I’ve already got a house out in Golden Greens.” He takes a huge amount of cake and stuffs it in his mouth.

I’m familiar with the new suburban pocket. It just went up on the southside. The houses are all huge and almost touching each other. The yards are small but perfectly kept. Living in a place like that would give me constant anxiety.

“Wow, do you like it?” I try to imagine what kind of guy buys a big house when he’s still in college. We are from very different worlds, Damon and I.

“What’s not to like? It’s a four-bedroom, two-and-a-half bath with a double garage,” he explains like he’s a realtor. “I bet in five years that every room is full.” He sits a bit taller, like me not wanting kids in the near future is somehow an insult to him personally.

“Sounds like you know what you want.” I try to be agreeable. I’m just counting this date down now. I get that he has some big plans, and I wish him luck, but I have no intention of following up on how any of this works out for him.

“You haven’t had any of this yet.” Damon talks around another huge bite of cake.

He stabs a piece off with his fork and makes a big scene of leaning over the table to bring it to my lips. I feel like a baby being fed a spoon of mush. Just like that little baby, I clamp my mouth shut and refuse to taste it.

“Come on, it’s so good.” He just holds the fork there. Like a fucking psychopath.

I push my chair back and look toward the bar. The red exit sign above the door is reassuring. My escape route is clear. A guy with shaggy hair and a beard walks in. He looks exactly like Blaze. The tires spin in the mud of my mind before they get some traction, and I realize he doesn’t look like Blaze… he is Blaze.

Why is he here? Alone? Did he know I was here? I’m not really sure what’s going on. All I know is it gets me out of this cringey trying-to-feed-me-cake thing. “Excuse me.” I grab my purse and walk away from the table, ignoring whatever reaction Damon did or didn’t have.

Every table in the restaurant is an island of intense, candle-lit discussions. I wade through them and move past the people crowding the bar. I don’t see any of their faces as I move past them. I have one singular focus.

“Blaze.” I grab his arm.

“Hey, oh.” The corners of his mouth dive down. “Player got a hold of you fast.” He takes a beer from the bartender and hands her a ten. She starts to get some change, but he puts up his hand. “Keep it, sweetheart.” I’m pretty sure the wink is just to piss me off more.

“I’m on a date.” It’s impossible to not notice the bartender checking him out. Blaze is either used to it or not interested. Either way, he’s oblivious.

“A date?” He scans over my head, back at the restaurant. “Oh, this should be interesting.” His eyes light up as they dart from table to table. Finally, they stop. “Is that the guy? The one that looks like he jerks off to The Wolf of Wallstreet.”

He’s not wrong.

“Damon is… fine.” I feel like I searched for the last word for too long.

“Yeah? From here he looks like an ass-clown.”

Again, not wrong.

“Whatever. I’ll just go say goodnight, and then I’m getting you out of here.”

“Date’s going that good, huh?” He sees right through my bullshit in three seconds, and