Antagonym

Chapter 36

I had a confession to make.

For being known as the ice queen of the hockey world both emotionally and physically, I was a sucker for cuddling. There was nothing better than waking up in the morning to the feeling of someone's arms around you, keeping you warm and holding your body close. For someone who lived in the cold, it was heaven on earth.

That's how I felt every morning Beck slept over or vice versa. It was like an extra blanket of protection or the comfort of a hug from the mother I never had. It put me at peace, feeling his strong arm around my waist and his abs pressed up against my back. I would cuddle with almost anyone, but Beck was the superior choice.

Probably because I was majorly crushing on him, but that's not the point.

You see, usually when we woke up I would get the alarm of my iPhone on my bedside table so I was generally the first one to pry myself out of the comfortable position I had slept in. This morning was no different, except my alarm wasn't supposed to go off on Saturday morning.

And it wasn't my alarm that woke me up.

Instead it was the pounding knock on the door of Seb and I's apartment. I forced my eyes open and dragged myself out of bed, leaving the warm touch of Beck and trading it for the cold caress of the floor on my feet and the piercing daylight through the blinds. It only took one glance at my clock on the wall for me to notice it was already ten thirty. It was most likely the fool I lived with returning from the grocery store only to realize he forgot his key to the apartment. Why Sebastian didn't keep it with his car key was beyond my comprehension.

The doorbell rang again only to be followed by another two knocks as I exited my bedroom. "Coming!" I yelled in annoyance. When I finally reached the heavy white door and unlocked the silver handle, the door opened to reveal my worst nightmare.

I froze on instinct, blinking to make sure this wasn't some dream or hallucination. Nope. Standing in front of me was still the five foot eleven dirty blonde who could pass for a model with her skinny curves and lanky legs. Those emerald green eyes stared down at me like a mirror, standing out even more than her wrinkle free forehead patterned with freckles so faint you could barely see them on her pink toned, pale skin.

For a five foot five girl with larger than average curves, one might have difficulty putting the woman in front of me and a six foot four, skinny man who looked like the love child of Lucky Blue Smith and Anderson Cooper, together to produce me. Then you looked at my mothers sharp jaw, sparkling eyes, and dirty blonde hair and added it to my father's pale complexion and high cheekbones; it became very evident very quickly that my face was the product of my parents best genes.

As for my height, well, they say that comes from the grandparents so maybe the relatives I never knew had short and curvy figures.

I was so shell shocked that I didn't even have time to slam the door in her face before she slipped past me, walking into my apartment. "Are you that lazy that you're still sleeping at ten thirty?" she poshly remarked like that wasn't a normal thing to do, scanning me up and down and taking note that a white T-shirt was the only thing on my body.

"This is the one day I don't have practice at six in the morning. Excuse me for enjoying life," I quipped sarcastically. It became clear to me that she was planning on having a nice chat when her black handbag dropped from her elbow to her hand, placing it on the floor. I took that as a cue to close the door because my neighbors definitely didn't want to hear the screaming match about to ensue. "What are you doing here, Elizabeth?"

Maybe I was egging her on, but she was the one who walked in and started criticizing me before even saying hello.

My mother opened her mouth to respond when she was cut off the the deep voice of my captain walking out of my bedroom in nothing but a pair of adidas trainers. "Tell Sebastian next time he forgets his keys he should just sit outside and wait for someone to save his sorry-" Beck stopped mid sentence when he looked up from running his right hand through his jet black hair, his left hand in his pocket.