The Hot Hockey Player

Chapter 37 - Jude🏒

It's not just vibrating. Usually, the buzzing is loud enough for me to hear when I'm next to or away from her. But right now ? It's yelling, loud enough this time for entire freaking America to hear.

My thoughts spiral. Is it louder than usual ? Is she really low ? Should I call 911 ? 

"Maddy, why is it beeping like this ? Didn't you eat enough ? God, you didn't eat anything, did you ?" 

I cringe at how worried I sound. But at the same time, I'm glad I'm worrying about her. She could have easily brushed it off and kept walking — until something happen. Just thinking about it makes me shiver. 

She must sense my panic because she sighs and sits down somewhere. And honestly ? I've never been happier to be injured. It works like a charm and it's making her listen. 

"I'm okay, I'm seated now. I ate Jude. And I even had a granola bar during my break. So I don't really understand Jude. It happens sometimes and you know that. Sometimes, it's just way beyond my control and inexplicable things happen. I'm taking a sugar stick now, okay ?"

"Make it two."

She rolls her eyes like I'm a pain in the ass but I don't care. She does it nonetheless and I swear the air returns to my lungs. 

"Happy ?" she mutters. 

"Where are you right now ? Do you need me to call Sofia ?"

"Jude, I'm literally in front of my building," she says, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

I exasperate her. Good. 

She continues. "There are still people outside so don't worry, I'm not alone. Well," she pauses, glancing around with a head movement, "not quite."

I lie back and put my phone down. I let out a slow breath and I feel my heart returns back to normal. My eyes are closed but I know she's eating the two sugar sticks and drinking water to wash them down.

"Shouldn't you be... I don't know something like half-conscious with  that concussion ?", she teases. "I thought you were going to jump right out of my phone."

I guess I can take it now that I know she's taking care of herself and I shamelessly admit, "I would have though. But when it comes to you, I'm aware of everything."

"Cheesy," she comments and I roll my eyes.

"No. Chivalrous."

"What ?" She exclaims with a laugh, full and bright. "Nah." She pauses, still grinning.

"So ?"

"You're... impossible."

"But you love me ?"

"Only because I have to," she sighs dramatically.

"Liar," I reply and she bursts into laughter, not hiding her mouth and I love when she's herself with me. She has the prettiest smile of them all. And I could look at her for hours. She's a fucking painting and I understand why sometimes people look at something that beautiful. It's a piece of art. She's my piece of art. 

I yawn again, exhaustion knocking me out. She keeps talking and I could hear her for hours. Tired, hurt, injured — anything but my ears will always be open to her stories. None of it matters. 

I can't get enough of her lips moving, telling me things I wouldn't care about normally. But with her, it's like listening to a story-teller. Everything is just so interesting, worth something. And my brain never processed things that fast.

When she thinks she talks too much, I'm make damn sure she knows otherwise. And usually, it just escalates. Fast. 

I'm the best at hockey, that's a fact. I do my thing on ice and I'm professional off-ice too. I do the job. I do what I'm paid for. For a long time, I thought this was the only thing I'm very good at.