19. Wren

19

WREN

Wren

Blue's Words

Blog Entry #5:

Yesterday, we had a conversation that didn't end in a fight.

Instead, it ended in him breaking into my car and leaving one of his jerseys in the front seat.

What the hell could that mean?

Am I crazy, or could that mean he wanted to form a sort of truce with me?

Whatever it was, I celebrated it like a small win.

Thank you for all your comments, but I promise you, Mr. Hockey isn't developing a "crush on me". Until next time!

" S o, he left you his jersey?" Kate asked as she sat in the salon chair next to me. Her hair wet from the shampoo wash and now a darker shade of brown.

"He broke into my car and left it."

Her eyes swiveled to mine.

"Why do I find that hot?"

Laughing, I shook my head.

"What it is, is crazy. I don't understand him."

It was obvious the gesture was nothing more than just a way to lay claim on me. Not the way a girlfriend would wear her boyfriend's jersey, but in a way that told men and all the guys on the team that I was off limits. A mind game that I wanted no part of.

"Well, obviously you're getting to the man."

Was I?

Or was I just the dead best friend's girlfriend who he was trying to get rid of?

"Not in the way you're thinking." I eyed myself in the mirror, still wondering if I made the right choice to go bold with my hair. I've had blonde hair my whole life, but I figured it was time for a change.

Something new.

Something different.

"Regardless, whatever you're doing is working."

I wanted to believe her, that I was making some sort of progress, but I was still so unsure.

What if all this effort was for nothing?

"Have you mentioned anything about going back home?" Kate asked as her eyes met mine in the mirror.

"No, he's not ready for that yet."

"When do you think he'll be ready?"

My shoulders shrugged. As much as I wanted to say soon, I wasn't sure.

I was nervous. My top teeth had gnawed a small chunk of my inner mouth and my palms began to sweat. Silently, I was praying I could pull off this new color. And just then as she pulled the towel off my head, I caught sight of the light pink strands.

"Oh, I'm loving this already," Kim, my stylist, praised as she dragged her fingers through my hair.

After drying and styling, she motioned for me to take a look in the mirror and when I did, I could barely recognize myself.

Holy shit.

It looked so good, yet so different.

It was exactly what I needed. A change, and even Kate was watching me like she was in utter shock.

Once our appointments were finished, we rushed back home, where I could begin to pack for the away game, but not before I took a picture of my new and improved hair and shared it on the blog.

Captioned, Still getting used to the new color, but I love it!

Then with a smile, I returned to packing.

W e were running late for our flight.

Fifteen minutes, to be exact, but at least I wasn't the one to blame. Kate and her crazy hormonal pregnant self refused to let her husband leave without a million and one kisses and an argument about his new cologne that made her want to vomit. Luckily, James had called and let the team know he was running late, so we weren't going to miss our flight.

Then approximately twenty minutes after the call, we were finally boarding the plane. I trailed closely behind James, noticing that a few of the guys had caught sight of my pink hair and smiled at me as I passed by. Even a couple of whistles filled the air, causing me to instantly flush.

I assumed I was going to sit next to James, but as I passed through the narrow aisle, I felt a large hand clasp around my arm and tug me toward them.

"What the…" I was pulled harshly into the seat as my arm caught itself on the person beside me, along with the upper half of my body that landed on what felt like hard muscle. At first, my eyes had gone hazy and a bit unfocused but when I felt a hand graze along my hip, my vision suddenly came back.

"Mal?"

Confusion, but also disbelief, filtered through me as I became caught in an endless orbit of green. So unique, so intense, that I found myself struggling to look away. I had even forgotten I was draped over him like a blanket.

"Your hair," he commented as his stare never left mine. I couldn't figure out whether he liked it or not, but at the moment, it didn't seem to matter. Especially when he raised his hand and thumbed the tips of my dyed strands as if inspecting the color. "It's pink."

"I… I wanted something different." My throat felt dry and scratchy.

Mal was touching me. Holding me steady by my hip while his other hand played with my hair. It was everything opposite of what I was used to with him.

"I can see that."

With his gaze still locked onto my hair, I took the opportunity to get a once-in-a-lifetime, up-close look at Mal.

When I should have felt embarrassed, I didn't. When I should've felt mad, I didn't. And when it should have felt wrong, it didn't.

But just as quickly as I discovered I liked the feeling of being this close to him, I quickly realized just how wrong it was.

This wasn't just anyone.

This was Mal.

Hayes's Mal.

I swiftly removed myself from his hold and leaped over to the seat next to him where I felt as though I could breathe again.

"Why did you do that?" My voice turned from breathy to aggravated as I set my backpack onto the ground and refused to look at him.

"No better way to watch you than having you sit next to me."

Great, we're back to that again.

Rolling my eyes on a sigh, I peeked a glance over at him.

"So, your way of getting me to sit next to you is to yank me by my arm until I fall into your lap? Whatever happened to asking the other person whether they wanted to or not?"

As soon as the words had fallen from my mouth, I felt my cheeks burn up. It wasn't something I should have felt embarrassed about, but the memory of it, and the feel of his solid body beneath me, would stay with me forever.

"Would you have said yes?" He glanced at me quizzically with an arch in his brow.

We both already knew the answer to that.

"That's… beside the point." I shook my head. "You can't just manhandle me into getting your way."

"You call that manhandling? I call it a reminder to all these idiots on the plane that you're off limits."

My stare swung over to his.

"So you're the reason why they'll barely talk to me? Why would you even say that to them? I already feel unwanted here thanks to you."

"Good. Then maybe you'll finally realize that you shouldn't be here."

My mouth started to tremble along with every muscle in my body that told me to sit somewhere else. The man was hot and cold all the time, it was hard to be in his presence. Let alone be the object of his torment.

"Maybe you're the one who shouldn't be here. Seems to me your team likes me a hell of a lot more than they like you," I snapped back before rising to my feet to find a new seat where I wouldn't be berated.

Before I had the chance to, I was grabbed again, but this time his hand wrapped tightly around mine to stop me.

"Stop," he demanded. His voice was harsh, yet desperate. "Just… sit down."

I didn't want to. I'd rather stay in the bathroom the whole flight than sit next to him, but a silent plea had fallen from his mouth, causing me to reconsider.

"Please."

With my back turned, I warily peered over my shoulder.

"Why should I?"

I thought I had felt his finger slowly rub along my knuckle but I was too distracted by the despair and confliction in his eyes to be sure.

"Because I said so, Doe." He lightly tugged me down by my hand until I was once again seated.

It wasn't a good reason.

It wasn't a reason at all, but knowing Mal, it was the best answer I would get.

"Would it kill you to be nice to me?"

After buckling my seat belt, I leaned back on the headrest and turned in his direction.

"Would it kill me? No. Would it make things more difficult? Yes."

Just then, he leaned back onto the headrest and mirrored my expression.

"Aren't things between us already difficult?"

He went silent. Deep in thought, we continued to stare at each other until he took his eyes off mine and looked ahead at the seat in front of him.

"I don't need them to be any more difficult." He sighed in annoyance.

"So if I said we should be friends, would that be more difficult?"

After I said it, I immediately wanted to take it back. I wasn't prepared for his reaction, nor was I ready for it. So as his body went eerily stiff and his gaze pierced mine, I panicked.

"What I mean is…"

"We aren't meant to be friends, Doe. Not now or ever."

The shock of what he said had my stomach clenching.

Painfully.

And I hated that it made me feel that way.

"And why's that?" I asked through my anger and confusion.

"You don't want to be my friend."

"You don't know that." I scoffed, causing the corner of his mouth to lift.

"Name one reason why you want to be friends."

Shit.

A normal response would be, Because you make me laugh, you make me smile, I love being around you. But with Mal, none of those would be believable.

"Because…" I drew out, hesitant to answer but continued anyway. "I think… I think you could use a friend. Even if it's me."

I waited for the denial. For a scoff. Anything that would refute me. But instead, I was sucked into his powerful stare until everything and everyone around us vanished.

"I think you need me," I whispered,

Then just as powerful as he pulled me under his spell, he had spit me back out.

"I don't need anyone." He leaned in close, his eyes heated and nose flaring with fury. "And I don't need you."

Lies.

Every bit of what he responded with was a lie and he knew I knew it.

"Keep telling yourself that, because I'm not going anywhere." I brought my face close to his. Our noses were almost touching. "I'm not leaving you."

My confession rocked him.

It rocked us both.

Caught off guard and confused, his chest expanded on a heavy breath. So heavy that I had felt it brush past my face.

"We'll see," he grumbled before pulling away.

Sighing, I let my head drop back.

It was going to be a long flight.