Capture the Moment (Moments #1)

31. Cleo

thirty-one

Cleo

It’s the first game of the season, the rink is lit up with blue and orange lights and the boys are playing to win tonight. Since it’s a home game, I’m obligated to be here by not only the pact I made with my dad but by another that I’d made with Jace last week.

Spirits are high tonight and almost everyone in a ten-mile radius of SFU is here sporting the schools’ vibrant colors of navy blue and orange.

Georgia, Sienna, and I sit just a few rows behind the home box, watching the boys put on one of the best season openers I’ve seen in college hockey to this day.

It’s been a week since Blake and I have had any contact, and to say I spent that time even more confused than I was before would be an understatement. But the girls and I took a collective mental health week where we spent most of our time doing coloring books and face masks while drowning our sorrows in pints of ice cream.

There are twenty seconds left in the last period of the game, SFU is leading by a single point but the Moran U defensemen aren’t letting up on our boys. It’s nasty out there as the boys fall into a heated puck battle. The crowd grows silent as we all sit on the edge of our seats, the only sound to be heard in the arena being the slapping of the puck against the sticks on the ice.

I suck in a deep breath, hoping and praying that Moran U doesn’t suddenly become amazing and make the goal.

A loud slap followed by the sound of the goal horn ringing has the crowd slipping into a loud cheer and if I had blinked, I would’ve missed the sheer art of a goal that number 13, Blake Wilder, had scored. I jump from my seat and cheer with the rest of the crowd for the man, the myth, the legend— Wilder .

“I fucking hate hockey but did you see that?!” Georgia exclaims, her eyes bright as she jumps up and down pointing at the ice below.

“He scored the winning goal!” Sienna gasps looking up at the Jumbotron above with Blake’s image and stats displayed on it.

For SFU to be a football university, we have one of the best hockey programs in the country. Dad says it’s because he’s the coach, which may be true. But I also believe it’s because Summerfield births legends .

The school has produced seventeen Stanley Cup winners and six Olympic hockey players from both the men and women’s teams.

It isn’t until the screen displays Blake himself in current time that I realize he’s not doing a cocky pose or cheering with the rest of the guys. Instead, he’s looking up at something with a look of serious intensity.

My skin burns even though I’m surrounded by ice and my heart falls when my eyes lock with his steely ones.

Stay, he mouths, helmet off. His hair is curly and damp against his forehead, and my thighs rub together at the sight of him, so without thinking, I nod.

Georgia, Sienna, and I make our way to the locker-room area to wait for the boys. It’s “puck bunnies” galore down here but everyone seems to be civil as we all await the group of winners.

Derek is the first to exit the locker room, he’s beaming as he talks to someone on his phone, more than likely his daughter, Delilah.

Deli’s a sweet kid, I met her last week at the festival and couldn’t get over how adorable she was.

As Derek approaches us, his eyes lock with Sienna’s. He falters in his steps, drinking her in slowly before continuing with his walk. Sienna’s neck cranes as she watches him walk by, eyes softer around the edges than normal. I raise a brow at Georgia who just shrugs. We’ll find out about that later, I guess.

The boys begin piling out of the locker room and we congratulate every single one until Blake and Jace exit together, laughing with one another .

Well, that’s fucking new . What happened to not talking to the enemy, Jace? It’s only been six hours since I last saw him, and he’d told me he wouldn’t speak to Blake.

The air around us grows thick with awkwardness as the two men sidle up to us. Our friends look around as if waiting for something to happen but Blake's focus is trained solely on me. His gaze burns a hole in the side of my head, and it takes everything in me not to squirm as he lets out a low humorless laugh.

“Give your keys to Sienna,” he says, and my eyes widen as I look at him up and down in disbelief.

Is he serious? After not talking to me for a week straight, that’s the first thing he has to say to me?

I can sense the energy shift in our small group as Jace furrows his eyebrows at the man before clearing his throat. If this had been a few years ago and I was my old immature self, I would let Jace fight my battles and cuss Blake out for his rudeness. But I can’t have him fight all my battles anymore.

“And why should I do that?” I challenge, narrowing my eyes on the annoying male.

“We have a project to do, Princess,” is all he says in an indescribable tone before gently plucking my purse from my shoulder and slinging it over his.

In the car, Blake and I ride in complete silence. Though it’s not terrible one, it is a bit awkward how quiet we are with one another. I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed him be this mute since we’ve met. I sneak a subtle glance at him through the reflection of the car window, his figure is wonky, but I can make out the outline of his face perfectly.

“Where are we going?” I ask, trying to break the ice. I receive a small sigh in return and frown at the childishness of this all. I’m the one that’s supposed to be mad!

I can see him smirking from the side of my eye but he doesn’t respond and it isn’t until we pull up at The Sugar Hole that I understand why.

He tells me to stay in the car, which is crazy because I’ve never just “stayed in the car” when it came to donuts, but I comply nonetheless .

It takes Blake five minutes to come back to the car with a box much smaller than the one we’d had last time and a masked bored look on his face. I peak over his shoulder as he chuckles lightly, putting the now open box full of all my favorites onto my lap. I gasp as I take a bite of a Pink Truffle donut and sigh.

“Does this mean we’re good now?” Blake asks, his tone softer than before as he looks over at me with warm eyes.

“For now,” is all that I can manage to get out over the mouthful of donut, as he chuckles lightly.

He’s silent for a second, letting me devour two more donuts before turning to face me in his seat.

“You left that night,” he says, softly. Zero hint of anger or sadness.

I scarf down the last of the strawberry donut before nodding. “I got scared and ran away. I’m sorry for leaving and then acting like a child after. Are you mad at me?” I ask, looking down at my lap, suddenly feeling smaller than before.

He lifts my chin with his thumb and pointer finger, bringing our eyes level with one another.

“I could never be mad at you, Cleo. Was I upset that I probably fucked up everything between us when I kissed you? Yes, but I wasn’t mad that you ran from the Ferris wheel, I expected it. I’ve been watching you and I can see that you got overwhelmed with it all. And then I fucked up by joking while you were trying to be serious. Are you mad at me?” he asks, eyes soft.

You know how they say eyes are the window to the soul? Blake’s eyes hold the secrets of the ocean, I want to drown in them and get to know everything there is to know about him.

“I could never be mad at you, Blake.” I chuckle, repeating his earlier words as he smiles.

“Do over?”

“Do over.” I nod.

Blake reaches into his backseat, shirt rolling up a bit as he pulls out the camcorder for our project, turning in my direction with a small smile, pressing record.

“Hi Cleo.” He smiles, covering his right eye with the camera .

“Hi Blake.” I chuckle, turning to fully face him from the passenger seat.

“Where do you feel the safest?” he asks me, his voice a mixture of softness and calming energy as I sigh.

“In what way?”

“I mean where do you feel the most secure and content that no matter what, as soon as you enter this place, it’s like a weight is lifted from your shoulders.”

I’m taken aback for a moment as my mind drifts over the endless places and possibilities that I can say but there are only two places that stick out the most to me.

“The beach and the bookstore.” I shrug.

“Really? I think mine is my childhood bedroom, lol.” He chuckles but then fully laughs, doubling over with the camera still recording.

I choke out my own laughter, belly tightening from the action.

“I know you didn’t just say ‘lol’ in real-time.” I gasp for air as Blake turns off the camera placing it in his backseat. He gives me a small look that I wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t already been looking at him. My stomach does a small flip, startling me for a second.

How am I supposed to do this whole friendship thing when this is how my body reacts to him?

We fall into a comfortable silence as soft R&B plays on the radio and it gives me just a second to truly think.

I know that I like Blake, but I also know that liking a guy like Blake as much and as quickly as I do can be dangerous to not only my grades but my mental health as well. What if he ends up just like Marcelo? What if he’s just another asshole hockey—

“Again, I’m sorry about last week, Cleo.” His abrupt words interrupt my train of thought. Blake gives me a small, crooked smile before running a hand through his hair. “I’ve never done this whole relationship thing before, and I meant for what I said to you to be a joke, but then I realized just how shitty it was as soon as you twisted your nose at me.” He sighs.

Twisted my nose? I do no such —

“You twist your nose when you’re annoyed, you do a little scrunch thing with it, too.” He chuckles, reading my mind before continuing. “I would like to date you Cleo and show you that I’m not the guy that you think I am.”

“I… I don’t date,” I stutter, and mentally curse myself for doing so.

I’m unsure if Blake is joking or being serious when he says he wants to date me, and it makes my head ache at the thought of him just playing games with my heart.

“We can take things slow, build a friendship before—”

“I would like to date you, Blake, but I can’t. My dad and I created a plan for my first semester, and boys weren’t a part of it. He doesn’t want me to date anyone.” I shrug playing with the hem of my shirt. How crazy is it that me, a 20-year-old woman, can't be in a relationship because “Daddy said no”? He probably thinks I’m a child now.

“We’ll worry about him when the time comes but, for now, how about we go on our first official date? You can call it a hangout but for me, it’ll be a date.”

I think my heart just melted into a puddle, I quickly slide my mask of indifference back into place because if he knew just how much his words affected me, we’d be in the backseat of this car right now.

“I don’t do relationships, Wilder,” I say, feigning nonchalance.

“That’s okay, Princess. I’ll wait.”

“What’s a dealbreaker for you in a relationship?” Blake asks me, holding up our project’s camcorder to his eye, smiling from behind it.

I let out a small chuckle of laughter at the man as he smiles deviously. “Was that question for the project or for you, Lover Boy?” I ask, smiling a little toying with the hem of my baby blue sweater.

Today, Blake and I are at a park to film for our project. We’re sat on a Spiderman blanket, facing the small man-made lake in Summerfield Park. The mid-October air is warmer than usual but still slightly chilly hence my outfit of a sweater and jeans instead of my usual skirts.

Blake’s smile is devastating and full of mischief as he gives me a playful shrug.

“A dealbreaker for me is lack of trust in any relationship. If I can’t trust you, then you’re not the one for me.” I gulp, my heart thudding hard against my ribcage as memories of my previous relationships pound against my head.

“Then I’ll be sure to have our trust be as tough as titanium, there’s no breaking that,” He says in a matter-of-fact tone as if it’s just that simple.

I want to laugh at the naivety of his response, trust is something people build and break constantly. If he thinks that I’ll freely give it to him, he has another thing coming.

“Sure, you will.” I roll my eyes.

“I will! Ye of little faith, I am going to have you trusting me so hard, you won’t know what hit you, Princess.” Blake’s face is triumphant as if he’s already won as he takes a sugar cookie into his mouth.

Derek, the DILF of the team (Jace’s words, not mine but I do agree) is also a culinary arts major. He made us the best lunches of chicken parmesan, fruit, and sugar cookies for today’s makeshift “picnic”/project day.

“Okay! It’s my turn, Lover Boy!” I exclaim as our fourth timer for our session goes off.

We usually do ten-minute intervals between questions before swapping the camera to let each person get an even amount of screen time. It was Blake’s idea to do so and probably our smartest one regarding this project.

Skimming over our list of questions, I chuckle at the realization that Blake’s previous one wasn’t one of our regulated questions. This boy, I swear. I smile as my eyes land on one question in particular.

“What’s something that makes you feel overwhelmed?” I frown at the question before looking up at Blake who ponders. The questions that we have to answer for the project are invasive and much worse than the ones we created, and this is an example of one. I knew that the object of the project was to document our lives and to get to know our partner and the camera on a deeper level. But shit, this was a different level .

“I get overwhelmed by a lot of things, I’m not going to lie.” He chuckles, running a hand over his face before sending me the most beautiful grin I’ve ever seen. I covertly clench my thighs at the sight of him as he continues. “I may not seem like it because I’m such an awesome guy with an impeccable personality but I find a few things overwhelming. Crowded rooms where I know little to any people, public speaking—don’t tell the guys but I hate giving out speeches in the locker room, it makes me itch.” He fiddles with the baby blue bow tied across my bag’s handle.

I watch Blake through the lens of the camera in a newer light as his cockiness fades and is replaced by nervousness. He continues speaking and I pray to God that I got everything on camera because the only thing that I can focus on is the softness of his features under the warm autumn sun and the way that when he carefully looks over at me, my heart beats two times too fast.

I am screwed.

So freaking screwed.

When Blake excuses himself to throw away our snacks and plastic utensils, I immediately pull out my phone and shoot an SOS text to Margarita Central.

My phone buzzes four times in my hand as I watch him come back, smiling broadly.

“Ready?” he asks, holding out a hand for me to grab, the gesture curating a pool in my panties as I grab a hold of it.

“Of course,” I breathe out, grabbing his firm hand before helping him clean up our makeshift picnic area.

Blake and I ride back to my apartment listening to Twisted Vipers, singing along to their songs together. He sings the songs like we’re in a rom-com, using his fist as a mic. The action makes me swoon as the music shifts to One Direction, I chuckle as Blake sings You & I to me obnoxiously loud. I pretend to ignore his singing until the opening chords of Night Changes plays.

My mouth drops as I gasp, “This is my song!”

“You got this, Princess, give it your all!” Blake shouts, holding his fist up to my mouth. I smile at the action and immediately break out into song, using the “mic” .

We laugh and sing the entire ride to my place and it’s only when More Life by Astra begins playing that I realize we’ve been driving in circles for the past fifteen minutes. My heart spins but I don’t point it out to Blake as he makes yet another right turn, I never want this moment to end so I don’t do anything to interrupt it.