“Are you any good?”
I could go one of two ways: false modesty or confidence. Something tells me Edward’s secure enough to appreciate the latter.
“I’m the best player on the team.”
He breaks into a wide grin. “I love how you just say the truth, no hiding it.”
“It gets me in trouble sometimes,” I confess.
“Like when?”
“Like when I’m angry.”
“I’d better not make you angry, then.”
“You’d better not,” I tease.
We settle on a large boulder next to a strapping oak tree. In the distance, barely visible in the darkness, I see Edward’s personal protection officer, Simon, lurking discreetly. He’s so good at blending into the background that I forget he’s there 99 percent of the time.
“I must admit, I wouldn’t have pegged you as a hockey player.”
“No? Why not?”
“Look at you—you’re like a supermodel!”
“Oh, stop,” I say lightly, my pulse quickening.
“You know it, too. You’re gorgeous and sporty—it’s like the total package.”
“Even after I got into makeup and clothes, I never stopped loving hockey. It’s a great workout—but more importantly, it’s just fun.”
“Tell me more. Why do you love hockey so much?”
“It’s nonstop,” I say. “It’s hard to score, so each goal actually means something. It’s not like lacrosse, where the score can be a zillion to a zillion. I love how when you’re racing across the field, you have the destiny of the entire team in your hands. Even if you’re good on your own, you’re still dependent on everybody else.” I shrug. “I joined a team for the first time when I was ten, and I was hooked. My dad set up a net in the back garden and played goalie while I tried to score on him for hours at a time.” I poke around in the grass, plucking out a dandelion weed and running my finger over the white spores, suddenly feeling shy.
He puts his arm around me, pulling me close to him. “I love hearing you talk about it. There’s so much passion in your voice. It’s really cute. I like it.”
“Cute?” I ask, looking up at him through my lashes and frowning. “Puppies are cute. Toddlers are cute.”
“Not cute. Sexy. Very, very sexy.”
He tips my chin up with his finger and brings my mouth to his. Kissing him again is just as electric as I remembered. As we kiss, I can feel the steam rising up around the two of us and curling around our bodies. I fit perfectly into the crook of Edward’s arm. We melt into each other.
I don’t make it back to Colvin Hall for two hours.
Outside Colvin, Edward and I grin at each other, our fingers locked as we lob good-bye kisses back and forth. Finally, I break away.
“I really need to go! I’ll get into trouble!”
He looks at his watch, our fingers still entwined. “It’s only nine fifty-five.”
“Yeah, and curfew is in five minutes. I already missed tonight’s dorm meeting in the common room.” Suddenly, I realize I forgot to call Libby. Whatever, I’ll call her tomorrow. It’s not like we won’t be texting fifteen times a day.
“But you have McGuire. She’s probably not even doing bed checks.”
I laugh. “Is that going to be the theme of this year? I have McGuire, so I can get away with anything?” Old Mistress McGuire is the dorm head, and she’s been practically blind and deaf since the nineties, so Colvin Hall is the dormitory of choice for sixth-form students.
“Yep. That—and me, being addicted to you.” He cups his hands around my face, kissing me again. “Your cheeks are hot.”
We kiss for another five minutes before I finally manage to tear myself away, running inside and letting the main door of Colvin slam behind me. I turn around to peek before I run up the steps, and I can see Edward through the double doors, still standing there, grinning at me.
Once I’m back in my room, sneaking past McGuire’s closed door, I give myself a long stare in the mirror. I look an absolute mess—my makeup is smeared, my lips are swollen, and my nose is bright red from a serious make-out session—but I can’t remember ever feeling prettier.
It’s literally the happiest I’ve been in my entire life.
five
Two days later, I’m on the hockey field, about to start practice. As the team run their drills, I realize I’ve left my mouth guard in my bag and I race to the sidelines as Coach Wilkinson blows her whistle at me.
“Come on, Weston!” she bellows at me in her American accent. “We don’t have all day!”
I run over to my bag, rummaging through it while looking for my zipper pouch with the mouth guard.
My iPhone vibrates and I reflexively pick it up, hoping it’s Edward. It’s Mum calling.
I press divert. I’ll call her back later.
I’m still rooting around the bottom of my bag when the phone vibrates again. Now Libby is calling. Why is my family being so needy all of a sudden?
“Libs?” I whisper into the phone, trying to angle my body so that Coach Wilkinson can’t see me. She’ll have a total meltdown if she sees me chatting on the phone while the rest of the team waits. “What’s up?”
“Are you busy? I have something to tell you!”
My heart starts pounding. “Are you okay? Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s more than all right—it’s the most amazing news. I’m transferring to Sussex Park!”
“Okay, the coast is clear,” I say. “Make a run for it!”
I grab Edward by the hand and together the two of us sprint up the stairs of Colvin, turning down the hallway and trying to keep from laughing as we burst into my room. I close the door behind us, grinning at him. My chest is rising and falling heavily, as much from running as from the excitement of not getting caught by Arabella Whiteley, our head of house, or McGuire.
The group had a long and leisurely dinner together, everybody still enjoying the temporary novelty of being back at school and surrounded by friends 24/7. It felt like ages before Edward and I could sneak off together without getting called out for being party poopers.
He looks around my room. I’ve finally finished decorating it, with white fairy lights strung up on one wall, a blue-and-white tapestry laid at the foot of my bed over the cream-colored comforter, and mismatched frames covering the wall opposite my bed, full of photos of my family and friends. I’ve neatly organized all my clothes by color and category in the wardrobe by the door, but I know better than to expect my system to last. It’ll be a cluttered disaster by the end of the month, like always.
Whatever—it’s the intention that counts, right?
“So, this is where the magic happens, huh?” Edward says.
“You’d better believe it.” I put my iPhone onto my music dock, pulling up Spotify and opening my favorite nighttime playlist.
“Who’s this?” he asks.
I look at him as if he has two heads. “Are you serious?”
“Um, yeah.”
“It’s Tegan and Sara.”
“Oh, okay. I’m not really into EDM.”
I start laughing. “They’re not EDM! What do you like?”
He looks embarrassed. “I don’t want to tell you.”