Capture the Moment (Moments #1)

46. Cleo

forty-six

Cleo

“And that’s another stellar slapshot from Summerfield’s own Blake Wilder!” The announcer booms over the speakers of the arena’s sound system as Blake does a bow and arrow pose for the jumbotron.

Today, my nerves are jumpier than ever. It’s been a few weeks since my dad texted me saying that he was disappointed in me and I haven’t seen him since.

I’ve been to almost every single home game since then but Ryan told me that dad went back home to spend time with Gloria before the holiday weekend rolled around.

His assistant coach, Vince Morgan, has been coaching the boys since and has been doing an amazing job at it.

The guys move across the ice like a well-oiled machine and are leaving it all on the ice and though I’m surrounded by all the cheers and applause of my fellow SFU students, I can’t help but to feel lonely.

None of the girls were able to come to tonight’s game. Hell, I haven’t seen any of them since last night. And Ry is busy with a fucking house for his architecture lesson, granted it’s made of popsicle sticks, but it’s still a damn house.

My knee bounces uncontrollably as I try and fail to make myself comfortable in my seat. I’m usually fine with being by myself at games like this but with everything going on, I feel more exposed and watched than anything.

I’m just about to spring out of my seat, and rush to the bathroom as halftime starts when “Night Changes” by One Direction plays on over the loud speakers of the arena. I chuckle at the memory of the song and settle into my seat awaiting, Lola the Tiger, Summerfield U’s mascot, to come skating onto the ice for her usual halftime show.

I frown as the lights go dark and Lola is nowhere to be found, pink and white light beams circle around the arena, creating a kaleidoscope affect at center ice just as a bright light blinds me momentarily.

It’s then that I realize that all eyes are truly on me. My hackles rise as the song grows louder and I appear front and center on the large jumbotron with the words “We 3 CJ” as the label.

“Oh my—” my words are cut off by loud whistles and cheers as the boys, my boys, skate out onto the ice holding something in their hands.

Are those… no . Where the hell would they know how to make those? My thoughts swirl around my head as the guys slowly start to exit the ice, putting on their guards before trekking up the stairs towards me .

What the fuck—

“We love you, CJ!” the twins, Jordan and Jonah both hug me quickly before placing down two large and singular pink and white origami lotus flowers. The same exact ones that Jace used to make me and the girls when we were sad as kids.

As soon as the twins make their turn to leave, I’m faced with Lucki, who holds two more paper flowers. This proceeds until almost every single player has given me a flower until I’m finally faced with the creator of them all.

“I love you, Ceej,” Jace whispers into my hair as he kisses the top of my forehead. I repeat the saying to my oldest friend as he tucks one of the flowers behind my ear.

I’m smiling from ear to ear as the last man, the one I hadn’t known I was waiting for, stands in front of me.

“How was it, Princess?” He asks, crouching to pull me in for a hug.

“It was amazing!” I gush into his chest as he vibrates with laughter.

“Good, only the best for my girl.” He grins, kissing my forehead, and God if that doesn’t have my heart swelling, I don’t know what will.

I wish we could stay like this forever, holding each other but Blake has a game to win .

“Win this and I’ll let you do whatever you want to me tonight,” I whisper into his ear; Blake stiffens for a moment before chuckling.

“Baby, I always win.”

And that he does, the boys win in a massive shutout. The energy around the room vibrates with excitement from the Summerfield U students and everyone is talking about the crazy win.

I’m gathering my things and all of the flowers the boys had given me when two girls step into my path, each of them wearing home team paraphernalia.

“We just want to say that we stand with you.” The blonde of the two pouts, pulling me into an unwarranted yet appreciated hug.

“Yeah! No one deserves to have their dirty laundry aired without them knowing, We’re 100% team Cleo,” The brunette that closely resembles Blake’s sister Jules, minus her striking green eyes, speaks up.

“Uh… thank you?” I smile, tilting my head in confusion as both girls give me small smiles before leaving.

I would think that the whole interaction was odd had it only happened once but it hadn’t. Over the ten minutes it took me to get to Blake’s Jeep, I was stopped over twelve times and told the exact same thing. Apparently, both the hockey and football teams were telling the truth about the tapes to anyone who would listen and had people sign petitions to have it taken down.

Bless their hearts.

I’m beaming with happiness as Blake jogs towards me, smiling from ear to ear. He drops his duffel bag and picks me up, spinning us around.

“I won, baby!” He cheers and smiles like a kid in a candy store as he sets me down, gently, keeping his hands on my waist.

“You were amazing!” I say grinning from ear to ear as he kisses me, smiling into the quick yet hungry kiss.

“Speaking of amazing, have you seen yourself? Go on, do a quick spin, Princess.” He crouches down holding his hands as if they were a camera, taking “pictures” of me.

I giggle like a kid as I spin for him, playing into his chaos .

We’re so happy and peaceful joking with one another when I remember the storm cloud from a few weeks ago that’s been hanging over my head.

Thanksgiving .

“Hey…um,” I clear my throat, sobering up as Blake furrows his eyebrows, standing up. “Would you like to come to Thanksgiving with me?” I ask, bracing myself for his answer, hoping and praying it’s anything but no.

Blake smiles down at me, his ears red as he puts a teasing hand on his hip like a Home Depot dad.

“I thought we weren’t in a relationship,” He teases with a smirk as I roll my own eyes.

“You’re right, I’ll just ask Jace—”

“Wait, I never said no!” He cuts me off, grabbing my hands up in his. “I’d love to go to Thanksgiving at your house but I do remember that I was promised something for winning tonight.” He smiles deviously.

I rolled my eyes, knowing where this was going, and sure enough, Blake claimed his reward and then some.

“Are you sure I’m not too dressed down?” Blake asks for the tenth time as we stand on the front porch of my dad and Gloria’s house in Maryland, just thirty minutes from the SFU campus. After Ryan and I moved for college, our parents moved to Maryland from New York. The only reason everyone had went to SFU was the sole fact that they’d all gotten scholarships and truly wanted to attend the school first. Whereas I attended Brighton for the sole fact that I wanted my mother’s validation. But that’s neither here nor there.

“You look perfectly fine, Boy Scout, but if you keep running your hands through your hair, you’re going to look like we took the backseat of your Jeep for a test drive.” I chuckle, smoothening down his hair.

Blake frowns at the innuendo just as the front door to the house swings open .

“Absolutely not.” My father’s deep voice startles me momentarily as he stands in the doorway, looking down his nose at both Blake and me. The action should be impossible considering my father’s shorter stature of just 5’10” but he manages to do so.

“Hi, Coach…” Blake grimaces as my dad rolls his eyes.

Gloria appears right behind my father with the most welcoming smile imaginable as she pushes Dad to the side, opening the door wider.

“Cleo, my baby! Is this the boy you spoke to me about?” She asks loudly as she pulls me into a tight hug before doing the same to Blake. Her familiar scent of lavender and citrus lingers against my skin and I instantly feel at ease as we step into the house, ignoring my dad’s mugging glare.

I’m immediately greeted with the smell of fresh pastelitos, chicken, and Gloria’s famous black beans and rice. Also known as my favorite meal curated at the hands of Gloria Jones. Having a Black father and Dominican stepmom means that dinner is always excellent in our house, and I’ve been saving my appetite since this morning for whatever my parents cooked tonight.

“Yeah, Glori, this is Blake.” I smile down at her as she gasps.

“Wait… Blake? Like Blake Wilder? Oh, the girls in my book club are going to have a field day with this! Can I take a picture with you, honey?” she asks practically gushing over him as my dad’s frown deepens.

Blake on the other hand, instantly perks up, stepping up to my stepmom to take a photo.

“You better step back, son,” Dad warns, still trying to do his macho man routine.

Blake visibly gulps at his commanding tone but looks back and forth between Gloria and my dad. Gloria waves off the scary man at her shoulder as she pulls out her phone snapping a photo of her and Blake.

“Don’t mind him, honey. Clef, you aren’t fooling anyone with that act, now come help me with the pastelitos. I just got a new manicure and can’t have the grease touch my polish.” Gloria tsks, walking off towards the kitchen.

“Coming, honey.” My dad frowns following behind .

They are the true embodiment of ‘walk him like a dog’. Whatever Gloria says, goes, and it’s been like that forever.

“I like her.” Blake chuckles, much more relaxed as he follows me into the dining room area where Ryan’s already seated in his usual spot. I opt for the seat across from him just so Blake can sit beside me, and then I place my phone down before going to wash my hands. Blake does the same before taking a seat beside me.

We’re deep into eating without a peep from anyone until Dad decides to open his mouth in the most rude, yet funniest, way.

“Why is Blake in my house, Cleo?” He asks, not missing a beat as he plops a spoonful of rice and beans into his mouth.

I nearly choke on my food at his forwardness and Blake stills momentarily beside me. “Gloria said I can bring a friend, ” I say through a mouthful of pastelitos.

“You and Blake aren’t just friends though, sis.” Ryan eggs on adding to the mix, I drop my half-eaten fried meat and dough on my plate as I look up at the smug bastard.

“And you and Denver aren’t just friends, either, right?” I ask, tilting my head as Gloria gasps and Blake chokes on his rice.

“Denver!? Who is this Denver and why haven't I heard of her yet, Julio?” Gloria asks, her jaw dropped as she eyes her son suspiciously.

Ryan mouths an obscenity at me as I discreetly flip him off. Serves him right to air out my business.

“She’s my cousin!”

“She’s my friend .”

Both Blake and Ryan speak at the same time, the both of them eyeing one another down. The two men share an unspoken agreement with one another, each of their eyes widening momentarily before falling onto Gloria in a relaxed manner.

Gloria glares at her son but turns on a sweet smile for Blake as she looks over at him. After that, dinner runs smoothly for the most part with Gloria making conversation with Blake and me, Dad glaring holes into the side of Blake’s head, and Ryan laughing at it all.

“C’mon, Clef help me wash the dishes.” Gloria smiles warmly at my father as she begins gathering all the plates from the table.

“I can help! It’s only fair—” Blake tries but Gloria just waves him off.

“Nonsense, you’re a guest and Clef’s been glaring at you this entire time. Besides, I’m sure Cleo and Ry would like nothing more than to get out of doing the dishes.” She chuckles, hauling Dad into the kitchen.

Blake nods as the older couple enters the kitchen and almost instantly visibly relaxes.

“I didn’t think you’d last more than five minutes with them.” Ryan cackles from in front of us as Blake sighs, agreeing.

“It wasn’t that bad.” I frown at my brother, throwing an ice cube at him from my empty cup.

He grimaces as it hits him square in the cheek and cringes as he wipes away the water it left behind.

“Clef was about to stare the poor kid into a coma.” Ry chuckles.

“I’m going to have to bag skate for the next three weeks because of this,” Blake groans, jokingly. I rub his shoulder, hiding my laughter at the sad truth. If there was one thing my dad loved to give out as punishment, it was bag skating.