Meant For You

thirteen.

I may have stupidly figured she already knew which is why I didn't make a big deal about telling her. My aunt likes talking about me like I'm her own since she never had any kids of her own. I guess I just thought she would have mentioned it somehow but I was wrong.

Being adopted isn't something I tend to hide from people but I see the way people get awkward about it. The comments that come after someone finds out I'm adopted are also not something I'm typically fond of.

"Your parents got lucky!"
"I bet your parents regret giving you up now, eh?"
"Your parents sure know how to pick out of a patch."

Just like always, my success and fame are the basis of my life. It's not like my parents fucking knew I was going to the NHL. I was just born when they took me in. A newborn. People's stupid comments make me feel worthless even though I know I'm not. I may have been given up, but I was also given an amazing life because of it.

My life shouldn't revolve around the fact that I'm adopted. It's why I decided to let it go. If I take that extra step to find out who my birth parents are, my life will always tie back to being adopted. To the life I could have had if it wasn't for both my birth parents and my parents coming to a decision.

I'm fine with where I'm at.
I'm fine with not knowing.

"Awfully quiet this morning, Dempsey." Nola's voice drifts me out of my thoughts. I turn over and her blue eyes flit from her phone screen to mine. Besides the one time I stalked her Instagram, I've never really looked at the girl.

Her eyes are a dark shade of blue that sit under light brown thick brows. She has a thin button nose and lips that while thin, have a small plump to them. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a braided ponytail which sculpts her jaw. She's fucking insane to look at.

Shaking my head, I look away from the girl before I get caught up. "I'm just tired. I don't get too many days off," I lie. My minds racing too much and it was only eight in the morning. When the fuck is it not though? "How's hockey going?" Nola asks. I only turn to look at her to see if she's serious. There's no doubt in my mind that she actually cares. She hates hockey.

She raises her brows, awaiting an answer to her question. "It's really good. We've won seventeen in a row which is unheard of from us," I boast. Proud is an understatement. Nola's eyes widen and she tilts her head slightly. "Seventeen? What crack are you guys smoking before your games?" she asks. I laugh, shaking my head. "That's what I'm trying to figure out."

I put both hands behind my head and lean back on the bench behind me, my legs extended out in front of me. "Congratulations though, that's huge. I think?" Nola says, sounding unsure. I nod, "It is huge. A lot of teams are trying to go all out against us to break our streak. So far, they've all failed." Nola holds her hands out, palms up.

"Can I see your hands?" she asks. I raise a brow, confused. She turns her hands over to me. "My hands have a lot of calluses because of skating. Do yours?" she clarifies. I show her my hands which have calluses as well. "We wear gloves so no. Most of mine come from weights," I tell her. She nods. "That too, but I'm on the ice more than I'm at the gym."

With all the restraint I have, I don't check her out. I've done it before but I don't think she's ever noticed. If I did it now, she definitely would. "How's figure skating?" I return the question and change the subject. "It's going better than it was these past couple of months. I have a competition a little after my birthday next month, so I'm just working on polishing up my routine at this point," Nola explains.

"Nice. When's your birthday?" I ask. "January 21st." She smiles. I rack my brain on what her astrological sign could be. "Do Leo and Aquarius's get along well? Maybe that's why we don't like each other, Scott?" Never in my life would I believe in some stupid shit like star sign compatibility but I like fucking with her. Nola chuckles, "We do like each other. Remember?" Her eyes soften a fraction.