03 | loser behavior

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RHETT

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RHETT


          Brie stares at me like she has just swallowed a bug.

          Better yet, she stares at me like I'm an insect—full lips twisted into a deep scowl, eyebrows furrowed, dark eyes shooting blazing daggers at me—but I can't say I'm entirely surprised. We haven't been on the best of terms for years at this point, and I'd be shocked to face a warm and receptive Brooke Sheridan after everything that has happened, but there's a part of me that has always been into her fiercer side.

          Will I ever admit this to her, when there's a high chance it will blow up on my face, and I need this face to be intact? Absolutely not. Brie Sheridan knows exactly how to get under my skin just with one intense look, and that's what she's doing—she's leaving me to rot, heart pounding in anticipation after such an indecently daring proposal. 

          She sits so still across from me I almost make the mistake of underestimating her, but she's as fiery as her hair, even when she tries to reel it in, and only a fool would ever fail to appreciate her the way she deserves.

          I am no fool and have always been rooting for her from the sidelines, which is a first for me. Being a part of the ice hockey team means having people cheer me on, not the other way around, and I've never felt the need to kiss up to someone or beg for their attention, just a nanosecond of their time. Brie Sheridan, damn her, somehow gets me to do it without as much as lifting a finger, and I don't even think she realizes it—or cares. After all, she doesn't think about me or what I think about her, right?

          I'm more than prepared to call her bluff. If she doesn't care about any of those things, then she would have uttered a response already, be it positive or negative, as she wouldn't have had to think much about it. If you don't care about someone, you're less inclined to care about hurting their feelings—like there are any of mine on the chopping block here, but I digress—and there's some semblance of regret clouding her eyes.

          For a split second, she almost lets her vulnerable side win, face softening ever so slightly as she takes me in. As much as I like the strong-willed side of her personality and the way she can keep me on my toes, there's a softness to her that she often sets aside for the sake of appearing stronger and unbreakable. I know this because I've seen it, and it used to be the larger, more prevalent aspect of her being, but then I went ahead and wrecked it all up.

          Then, she bursts into laughter. It's a quick explosion, the kind of laughter that's meant to cut you right to the bone, but I've been through worse. I've been through injuries that could have ended my hockey career, and I've gone through devastating championship losses. I'm not bending and breaking myself into tiny pieces for another person, especially when that person is Brie Sheridan.

          My pride won't ever allow me to do such a thing. My guilt for having forced her to do the same for me speaks even louder than this stupid pride of mine.

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