The Hat Trick (ON HOLD AS OF 2/17/16)

Chapter Twelve: Bailey

This Chap is short and sweet dear readers and I planned on it that way. Big things are going to start happening between these two crazy kids and hopefully you will enjoy every second of their journey. The next update won't be soon, considering I haven't even really started writing it down, it's in my head of course but getting it onto Word is a diffferent matter all together. Thank you all again for the reads and the comments and the follows and the votes!! I can't tell you enough how much this all means to me that you're all enjoying this story! Thank you, thank you.

Addawen 

I wanted to throw up. I braced my hands on my knees doubling over my lungs choosing the worst possible moment to stop working.

“Smalls?” panic and something else I couldn’t process colored his tone.

I looked up from my bent over position Dill was halfway across the ice to come to my aid and I swear—and I don’t swear—but I swear I have never ever felt more embarrassed and angry in my entire twenty-two years of life than I did right now. I had been played the fool. I was the joke. God  . . . I can’t even think right now.  But somehow I managed to have enough sense to wave him off.

“Don’t you dare come near me,” I threatened my voice measures away from becoming hysteric.

“Smalls, what’s wrong?” he had the nerve to ask his hands rose at chest level in a ‘calm-down’ way. “Are you hurt?”

Hurt didn’t even begin to cover it.

I was warring with myself over what I should have said or done next but my impulsive side won at as always. I looked him right in his lying blue eyes that had me so fooled that I almost gave in.

“You lied to me,” those words burned to say aloud.

His hands dropped to his sides as his throat worked for an answer. I had to hand it to him, he didn’t look away and I don’t know if that infuriated me more or made me question myself.

“Lied about what?” his answer was strong and sure, just like he is on the ice with the puck right before he shoots.

A strange almost animalistic sound came from the back of my throat as I moved towards him my hands clenching into fists. “Lied about what? Did you really just say that? Are you serious?”

“I haven’t lied to you Smalls, not about anything.” He sounded so sure, like he believed every word that came out of his mouth. And why shouldn’t he? He is the greatest player that has ever stepped out onto the ice. Lying is second nature to scoring goals and making plays in front of the net for him.

I went to step towards him again the frustration and anger and embarrassment almost too much to handle. He stood his ground unafraid and who would be afraid of a five foot two, one hundred and twenty pound girl?

“Nothing? You haven’t fibbed, or told a white lie to me since we met?” I was proud that my voice didn’t wobble like the rest of me was shaking.

He shook his head, a small part of me breaking inside. “Nothing.”

I blinked rapidly fighting at the moisture building in my eyes. “Okay,” I backed away choking on laughter and something far deeper. “Okay.”

I walked away, skated really, but I haven’t the energy to get technical right now. I knew who he was, and I hate that it took me this long to figure it out. I hate that I didn’t see it right off the bat, that I was so enthralled by the knight in shining armor bit that I couldn’t see what was clearly right smack dab in the middle of my face. This whole time . . . this whole time I couldn’t see it. It was comical really; that I claimed to be this girl-wonder-hockey-guru and yet I was fooled by a beard and Clark Kent glasses and not even a good beard at that.