Sleet Sugar by S.J. Tilly

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

ZACH

Izzy’s face shows a mix of surprise and pleasure. And I can’t stop staring at her.

“Dude.” A voice full of impatience tries to get my attention from across the table.

“What?” I reply, without looking away from Sugar.

I hate that she’s here. It’s unreasonable, but I don’t care. I’m trying to grow, be a better person, acknowledge my emotions and all that shit. And right now, I’m feeling possessive, protective, and guilty. Possessive of her. Protective of her feelings. Guilty about how we met. Yeah, I know that if I hadn’t sunk into loneliness and signed up for that stupid dating app I never would’ve met her. And yeah, if I hadn’t met her, some other fucking mouth breather would have. And that lucky sonofabitch would probably be smarter than me and they wouldn’t have let her go. But emotions are messy and I’m feeling like shit about the whole thing. I want her. I want to convince her I’m a good bet. But it’s hard to do that after meeting on a goddamn hookup app.

Not to mention her admission of being single, and celibate, since college. Assuming we’re about the same age… that’s a long fucking time to wait. And being her “first”. I clench my teeth.

I’m feeling really fucking possessive!

“Are you going to move?”

Prying my gaze from Sugar’s, I slowly turn my head to look at the jackoff who thinks he has a chance with my girl. His mouth opens, and I narrow my eyes. I’ve scared off bigger badder men with my Fuck Off expression, and - after half a second - I scare this clown off, too.

I watch long enough to make sure he’s leaving before turning back to Sugar.

“You’re going to get in trouble - ” Izzy tries to scold me, but her mouth is tipped up in an amused smirk.

“I don’t care.” I’m not going to let anything keep me from what I came here for. Especially not some bowling alley speed dating rules. “Do you regret it?”

Izzy cocks her head. “Regret what?”

“Our night together. Do you regret it?”

I need to know where her head’s at. I need to know if I should be hating myself for what I did to her. It felt so right, so perfect, but this beautiful creature deserves more than a one-night stand.

“Zach.” Her tone is condescending, which surprisingly puts me at ease. “I don’t know what sort of turmoil you’re cooking up in there," she points to my head, “but you need to press pause on your crazy. I had a great time with you. I have no regrets. Okay?”

I nod. “Okay. And this? Why are you doing this?” I gesture around us.

“Because I want a boyfriend.” Her Duh is strongly implied.

I gesture to myself, the movement with its own implied Duh.

Izzy rolls her eyes at me. “Zach, we can’t date. You play on my dad’s team. I’ve seen the light. There are so many reasons why this won’t work. No more hockey players. Not for me.”

I scowl. “What do you mean no more?”

Sugar laughs. “Trust me - no one you know. Look, if I didn’t care about you, then I wouldn’t care if my dad kicked you off the team. But I do. So we can’t do… this.”

The bell dings.

My determination hardens.

“Sir?” A woman says from next to me, accompanied with a tap on my shoulder.

Instead of growling like I want to, I turn and plaster a pleasant expression on my face.

“Yes?”

I barely stop myself from recoiling from the terrifying woman in front of me. I saw her from across the room when I first came in, the clipboard in her hands leading me to assume she’s in charge of this shitshow. From afar I could tell she was a short, severely thin, older woman in a blue dress. Up close, though, I can see that the dress is made from some sort of stretchy velvet-like material and it’s clinging to all the pointy parts of her body. And there are many. Her hair is a shade of black that can only come from a bottle, and the color doesn’t match her heavily-penciled eyebrows. Since I know absolutely nothing about makeup, all I can think is that it looks thick. I feel a chill go down my spine. This woman is going to haunt my nightmares for weeks.

“I’m sorry sir, but I need you to follow the arrows on the floor to the next table. I know it can get loud in here and it’s easy to miss the bell.” It’s clear she’s giving me an out; we both know I heard the bell just fine..

It’s also clear that the last douchebag I brushed off went and tattled on me to Duchess Dracula here. He’s standing behind her, like putting her eighty pounds between us will somehow stop me from ripping his head off his shoulders before using it to bowl a strike.

Izzy reaches out, resting a hand on my forearm. “Thank you, ma’am. You’re right, we missed the bell.”

Her grip on me tightens as a warning. The message is clear: don’t make a scene.

“Yes, I’m sorry,” I say, sounding as not sorry as possible, while staring daggers at the fuckwit who’s salivating for his turn with my Izzy.

Seeing an opportunity to fuck with this guy, I take it.

“I’m sorry.” I smile at the scary lady. “I came in late and missed your explanation of the rules. Our practice ran behind today. I play for the Sleet, so of course I had to go shower before coming here. I would’ve disgusted everyone otherwise.”

Her lips pull back into a smile and I instantly realize who she reminds me of. This woman is  a real life Yzma, straight out of Emperor's New Groove.

“Oh! You’re a hockey player? My grandson just loves watching those games on TV.”

“TV? Well, if you give me your information, I’d be happy to send you some tickets so you could take your grandson in person. As an apology for messing up your event.”

Mrs. Reaper puts one bony hand against her chest. “That would be the sweetest thing ever. You’re such a nice man. We’ll be sure to cheer for you while we’re there.”

Sensing that she wants to glance down at my ridiculous name tag, I introduce myself. “Zachary Hunt, at your service.”

Shaking her hand, I try not to flinch at her ice cold fingers.

When she looks down to write her information out for me, I make eye contact with the pathetic man still standing behind her. Dude can’t take a hint, so I raise my eyebrows at him. He just scowls and takes out his phone, I’m assuming to look me up. Good. I know what pulls up when you google my name. Fighting. Lots and lots of videos of me punching men twice the size of this guy.

After a moment, I watch the reality of the situation sink in. The poser doesn’t even look back up at me. He just slips his phone into his pocket and walks away.

The bell dings.

I smile.