Our Overtime: Ice League Book 1 (The Ice League Series)

“Grey, your girl has got it going on!” Jonesy slurred and looked at her lustfully.

I clenched my jaw.

“Keep looking at her and you’ll be fucking sorry,” I snapped, causing Smitty and Max to let out an “ooh” in the background.

Jonesy just laughed. Asshole freshman. He shouldn’t even be in the bar.

I glanced at my girl with a little unease. She definitely had it going on. But she was also most definitely gone. Sloshed. Trashed.

I was sitting in the wooden booth with the guys on the second floor of The Westshore, the hole in the wall college sports bar that everyone watched games at during the day, then smushed together to dance in at night. The bar’s open floor plan allowed me to watch the bar and dance floor from a bird’s eye view.

Jules had gone to the bathroom a bit ago, then never made it back up here. She was pulled to the bar by some of my other teammates’ girlfriends and then started dancing with them.

Just then, I caught her eye and we held gazes for a long minute. She broke first, winking at me and I forced myself to smile back at her, but I was a little nervous she was going to get me into a fight tonight if she kept dancing around like she was.

She ran her hand through her now shorter and blonder hair. It made me a little sad that she changed it because I loved her long brown hair.

I hadn’t even recognized her when she walked up to me with shades on earlier this weekend. Neither had Max or Smitty because both of them hit on her. I almost punched Max in the face after she took her shades off and revealed her giggly self. She asked if I liked it and I choked out a yes. I mean, she looked hot, she always did. But I wasn’t good with change.

Now she was heading toward the more elevated stage part of the club, giggling as she went… and she was dressed… not like her usual self.

She was dressed hot. Like really hot. She was showing off everything. I had to push down the urge to take my shirt off and put it on top of what she chose to wear. I didn’t understand why she needed to dress that way all of a sudden. She was in a low-cut leotard that was basically all black mesh. I really hated those things. The ones that snapped under their crotch. For one, it was like one of those things a baby wore… and it made for way harder access to get under her shirt…and I didn’t understand how that could be convenient for going to the bathroom.

During the pregame at my place, Smitty made a joke that she had to get naked to pee and Max had to hold me back. Why the hell was he thinking about my girl naked? No one should think that. Except me. I was probably already riled up because of their comments about her earlier.

I rubbed a hand over my eyes.

Max nudged me then and I looked up to see him sliding another beer my way, “Dude, chill. She’s just having fun. If you go all control freak on her, you’ll be just as bad as her grandaddy.”

I clenched my jaw at that too, shoving away a mental image of him. I was nothing like him.

“He’s right,” Paige offered earnestly. “Just have fun with her. That’s all she wants, and it shouldn’t be too hard to do. Go dance with her and show everyone she’s yours if you’re so concerned.” Paige gave me a pat on the arm and then started pushing Max out of the booth.

He took the hint and relented that he was going to be dancing tonight.

“Get your girl!” He called back at me as he was being dragged down to the first floor by Paige.

I took a swig of my beer. They were right. I needed to loosen up a bit.

I made my way down the stairs, being slapped on the back and offered knuckle punches for winning our game as I went.

Down on the first floor, I pushed myself through the initial slight claustrophobic feeling I always felt at parties and made my way through the sweaty bodies to find my girl.

Finding her, I took the drink from her hand and gave it to the girl next to her. Jules did not need anymore. She gave me a funny look then. But I grabbed her by the waist and carried her across the dance floor to where Max and Paige were dancing. I could hear her giggling softly through the thick club music blasting.

She danced around with Paige some, and then paid attention to me. She was arousing me.

“You’re mine,” I said, pulled her closer to me.

She giggled and turned her neck to look up at me. “That ok with you?” I felt my eyebrows pinching together. I didn’t want to sound as possessive as I felt.

“Makes me feel like the luckiest girl,” she said seriously with heavy lidded doe eyes.

That was enough to make me feel secure.

I leaned down and kissed her neck. I felt her knees go weak and she let out a tiny gasp. She was totally wasted and easily turned on. She probably had no clue what that gasp did to me.

The rest of the club faded away, and it felt like it was just the two of us on that floor.

I rarely woke up before her, but I loved waking up with her in my arms. Her tiny body drowning in my clothes used as Pjs. Absolutely loved it. Her face was laying on my chest and our legs were tangled together- her leg looking tiny inside the two of mine, her one arm tucked in close to my chest and the other looped around my body. Her boobs were pressed into my body and I was trying hard not to get a full-on boner while she was sleeping.

I tried to move her a bit without waking her up; she’d fallen asleep with her head on my arm and I was starting to lose feeling of it.

I felt her shiver a little and I promptly pulled the blankets up on her. I was always a furnace when I slept but I knew she was always freezing, we made a good pair like that. She always complained when I left the window open at night and she’d pull me on top of her as a blanket, I’d laugh and comply every time.

When we were young, I’d leave the window open as an excuse for her to pull me close. I’m not sure if she ever caught on to that.

I sniffed her hair. It smelled the same lavender smell I loved, it just looked so different.

Something was going on in that head of hers. I smoothed her now platinum hair that only grazed the top of her shoulders out onto the pillow. It wasn’t a big deal, I loved her, not her hair, but I kind of hoped she would change it back soon. I just felt like it wasn’t her.

Last night had been the craziest I’d ever seen her get. She’d 100 percent be hungover today. She’d been building up to that, drinking more than usual the past couple weekends.

Jules was usually very even-keeled and open with me. She didn’t do shots or dress slutty… or end the night with drunk crying like she had been lately. Not only was it bad that she was drunk crying, but she kept telling me nothing was wrong. Like bullshit. It just wasn’t her. I liked her without all that makeup, in my pjs, and when she actually communicated with me. I probably should’ve dug deeper last weekend so I would’ve had a heads up about the sudden hair change.

I went to Paige after last weekend and asked her what the hell was up with my girlfriend, but Paige scolded me about that kind of thinking and told me I was being selfish. I was afraid she was going to slap me. She told me she supposed Jules was just feeling pressure and wanted to feel “liberated.” She’d just graduated and she had a semester and summer to herself before she had to get a “big girl job.” This was her time to be free and not be judged by anyone, especially not me.

That made me a little nervous though. Free of what? Free of me? I couldn’t lose her. That just wasn’t an option.

She stirred a little then.

“How’s my little booze bag doing,” I asked her quietly.

She covered my mouth and gave a pained laugh with her eyes still closed.

“I’m sorry,” she said, with her hand still covering my mouth.

I licked her hand and she squirmed.

“Don’t be sorry, we had fun last night,” I told her, wrapping her up and kissing her forehead. But I did want to ask her if everything was alright and why she felt the need to suddenly have a wild streak and be dancing with the crazy-ass girlfriends of the team. She usually stayed tucked close to me at the bar getting happy tipsy, not trashed.

“I wish I could see inside that pretty head of yours,” I said looking down at her.

“It’s dumb and blonde now, why would you want to do that?” She responded kind of bitterly.

“Hey, don’t say that,” I adjusted myself to lay on my side facing her and gave her a confused look. “Is something wrong?”

She looked beautiful as she lay there with a slight pout on her face. She put a hand up and felt my beard like she was studying it and I just waited for her to talk. We’d been dating so long now that I considered myself an expert in understanding her, but lately something was off. I found that if I gave her silence, she’d eventually fill it.

She sighed a couple of times before almost starting to speak and then she’d cut herself off, which was just worrying me even more.

“Are you upset with me?” I asked her suddenly.

“Not at all,” she quickly replied, laying her hand on my chest. It felt comforting. She had no idea how tight it felt as she was sitting there sighing.

“Nothing else matters then, babe,” I used my thumb to smooth the smattering of freckles under her eye. I loved when she didn’t have makeup on and I could see them.

“Never shave again,” She relaxed into a smile. “I love your beard.”

Truth be told I was just getting a little lazier with shaving. It itched but I didn’t mind her extra attraction to me. She played with it and it felt nice.

“And I love you,” I told her. “But what if I bleached it blonde and cut half it off, wouldn’t you wonder why?” I raised my eyebrows at her.

She sighed again and started to pull her hand away. I grabbed it back and kept it on my chest. “I’m sorry,” she said, not meeting my eyes.

“No need to be sorry. I like it,” I reached out and tucked stands behind her ear. “It just took me by surprise,” I tried to explain. “Very edgy though,” I said, trying to sound positive.

She arched an eyebrow at me, “You’ve never been good with change, Mr. Scott.” She blew out a breath. “I regret it. I just wanted to be spontaneous and show that I can make my own decisions about myself. But now you probably don’t even like me anymore,” she patted my face. I would’ve been mad if she said that last part for real, but I knew she was joking. Our relationship was much stronger than trivial things.

“Are you petting me?” I asked her as I pulled her on top of me. “You’re drop dead gorgeous, babe.” I pulled her hair back and piled it messily on top of her head. Some strands fell down because they were too short. “No matter what.”

She laughed and dropped her head down flat against me and we laid there in comfort for a couple minutes, silently enjoying cuddling. I could lay there like that with my arms around her all day and be a happy man. But anxiety was coming off her in waves and I knew she wasn’t happy.

“Is it because your grandparents?” I asked quietly, my mind racing to put things together.

She stiffened in my arms and then I felt her nod against my chest.

I ran my hands down her back and then back up again, trying to relax her.

“What if I stayed here with you and never went back?” She mumbled against me so quietly I could barely hear her.

I honestly wouldn’t mind. I knew a lot of guys who didn’t want their girlfriends around all the time, but that just wasn’t me, it wasn’t us. But as much as I’d like her here, I knew Jules well enough to know she was too responsible for that. She wouldn’t want to hide from life or hurt her grandparents like that. She felt deeply and being disconnected from her family would weigh on her. Even though they barely gave a shit and it broke her heart all the time, she continued to try with them. My heart hurt for her.

“If that’s what you want, babe. But I don’t know if it really is?”

I felt her slump against me. “I don’t know anymore. They’re not hearing me.”

“Hearing you about what?”

“About everything,” she sighed again and gave me a serious look. “You want me to be honest?”

I rolled her off me to look in her eyes pointedly, “Yes, Julianna Louise. Spit all of it out right now so I can actually be a good boyfriend and help the next time you drunk cry on me.”

She scrunched her nose at me for calling her by her full name, “I am sorry.”

“Don’t be, babe. It’s my job… but you’re not letting me be very good at it here,” I told her pointedly.

She nodded and then turned her body towards the ceiling and kept her eyes that way, away from me, as she said the rest in a rush: “They want me to go to grad school and they want me away from you.”

“Away from me…?” I asked dumbly.

“They want us to break up, Grey. It’s been a constant argument and I’m so so sick of it.” She faced me then, almost questioning me, and I didn’t like it.

“You don’t want that, do you?” I forced myself to ask it slowly but I felt panicked.

“Hell no.”

Jules barely ever cursed, so I knew she was saying this with conviction.

“I don’t understand why they hate me so much,” I looked into her eyes trying to search for the answer. I’d always wanted to ask her if it had something to do with her father. He’d been a legend hockey player. You’d think they’d want someone resembling their son to enter the family. I didn’t want to push her for answers when she was already stressed, and besides, she really didn’t know much about her father in the first place – it was a conversation she always pushed away. She seemingly placed the subject of her dad in a locked away place somewhere inside her head where I was not allowed. It didn’t seem like a healthy coping mechanism, but what did I know? And her grandparents were worse than her about it. When I first met them, I mentioned their son and how he was an inspiration to kids like me and it was like I mentioned something horrible. Her grandfather snapped back something about being a “womanizer.” I could tell from that interaction that Jules really was truthful in the way that they never ever mentioned him. I’d told her I’d be there for her if she ever did want to talk or find out any info about him- the hockey world was small, I was sure I could find some answers somewhere- but she never brought it up. I pushed the thoughts of her grandparents away and focused on my girl.

“We’re gonna be together forever babe,” I pet her head to try to make things lighter and to ease her worry. “You know I want that right? A backyard with a big rink that I make for our babies, all of it,” I said as earnestly as I could.

She giggled in response, then covered her mouth and blushed for laughing at me.

“You think that’s funny?” I tickled her side, making her squirm against me. Her side was her weakness.

“Is that what adulthood is?” She wheezed in between laughs. “Backyards and babies?”

I eased up on the tickling and let her fall limp on top of me again.

I found her lips and said, “Yes,” against them.

“Our backyard. My babies inside of you.” I pinched her flat tummy.

She giggled again, “Baby, you’re making me horny.”

“My plan is working then,” I winked at her. “Grad school though?” I asked her wearily. That didn’t sound like her. She loved everything about teaching. She seemed like she had so much fun during her practice placements. It was good for her. It was the first time she seemed like she had a direction and was motivated since she quit skating years ago. When she talked about teaching her face lit up. She could talk for hours with a smile on her face telling stories about what the kids said each day. But if grad school was what she wanted, I didn’t want to stop her from going. I’d never stop her, even if that meant delaying the plan I had for us after I graduated.

“You want that?”

“I don’t know,” she said quietly. “I’m getting… confused about what to do.”

I paused, studying the rays of sunlight coming in from my tiny window and trying to choose my words carefully, remembering that I didn’t want to be anything like her controlling grandfather.

“You loved teaching, Jules. Plain and simple. Stick with what you love. I think you’d be making a mistake if you went in another direction. It’s up to you though, babe.” I wanted to be honest with her. “But can you promise me something?” I asked her, looking down at her serious face.

“Yes?”

“Can you just toe the line with your grandparents until I finish school and get my degree so I can whisk you away easily?”

“What does that even mean?” she laughed.

“Like don’t do drastic shit to make them hate me,” I told her. “They already want me burned at a stake.”

She formed an o with her mouth then. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” she laughed. “I don’t understand how they think you did my hair. You should tell them you hate it.”

“Not true, babe.”

“You think I can’t read you, Greyson Patrick Scott?” She asked with a smirk. “You hate it.”

“It’s you I love, not your hair, babe.”

She gasped and swatted my chest, “you do hate it!”

“False!” I told her, grabbing her little hips. “I thought you were horny; I’ll help you fix that.”

She collapsed in laughter against me again, and I loved it. I loved her.