Page 53 of Strange Love

We sit facing each other at the small bistro table, and his hands reach out and intertwine with mine, a simple gesture that never fails to make me giddy. It may be insignificant to others, but it’s a reminder of something I lacked for so long: a connection to another human. Whenever I’m in his presence, everything is lighter and more vibrant.

“It was nice to meet your mom today,” I tell him with a warm smile. “It’s awesome that she comes to your games.”

“Yeah, she’s always been my biggest fan,” he says with a proud smile. “She sacrificed a lot for me to get where I am today.”

“I hope I have the chance to get to know her better,” I say without thinking, immediately regretting my presumptuous thought.

“Actually, that’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” he says in a serious tone that sends a shiver down my spine. Sitting up straight, I meet his intense gaze.

“Is everything alright?” I ask, though, in my mind, I keep replaying the same thought repeatedly. This “relationship” has gotten too serious for him, and he wants out. His next words surprise me.

“Ivy,” he begins, his voice a gentle yet determined melody. His eyes are fixed on mine, searching for something in their depths. “When I first suggested we fake date, it was a passing thought to help you fit in and see if things would improve for you. I only knew what others had told me about you at the time. But as I’ve gotten to know you more, I’ve realized…”

My mind goes blank as he speaks, fear creeping into my heart at what I believe he’s about to say. With tears gathering in my eyes, I squeeze them shut, bracing myself for his inevitable revelation: “I don’t want to do this anymore. This isn’t what I signed up for.” Instead, when I open my eyes again, they’re met with a curious look from him.

“Did you hear me?” he asks with genuine concern.

“No,” I confess, my vulnerability exposed, “I’m sorry. I tuned it out because deep down, I knew what you were going to say.”

“What did you think I was going to say?” he probes.

“That you want to end our fake dating relationship,” I admit with a heavy heart.

“You’re right,” he says with a smirk, leaning back in his seat. The weight of his words crushes me as he continues. “But not for the reason you think. Ivy, I want us to be together for real.” My heart plummets onto the linoleum floor of the dingy diner as his words sink in. “I want you to be my girlfriend.”

I swallow thickly, trying to process the sudden turn of events. “Wait, you want us to go out for real?” I ask with disbelief.

“Yes,” he chuckles. “That’s what I’ve been trying to say all this time. You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met. The more I learn about you, the more I want to learn.”

My mind is reeling with questions as I try to make sense of his declaration. “What about your busy schedule and not having time for a girlfriend?” I remind him.

“I think anything can work if it’s important enough,” he says with conviction. “And being with you is important to me.” He leans closer, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “I can manage to play hockey and be with you. Unless you suddenly become incredibly demanding and difficult to be around,” he teases. “Like one of the Vipers.”

A genuine laugh escapes my lips at his playful jab. “That’s never going to happen,” I assure him.

“Well, then, it’s settled,” he declares with a smile. “I’d like you to wear my jersey to the next game.” A wave of warmth washes over me at the thought of proudly sporting his number on my back.

“Okay,” I reply, still in disbelief over how drastically this conversation has shifted. “I’d like that.” Shaking my head clear, I recap the events of the past ten minutes. “So, just so we’re clear,” I explain, “Ivy Owens, the girl who spent her formative years in a cult surrounded by criminals and lunatics, now has a boyfriend?”

“Yes,” he says with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Not just any boyfriend,” he adds confidently, placing his hand on top of mine. “You have the best boyfriend.”

The anticipation and excitement coursing through my veins make it hard to focus on the decadent dessert before me. The rich, velvety chocolate melts on my tongue, but I can barely taste it over the joy bubbling inside me. Corey finishes the rest of our desserts, unsurprisingly, his eyes sparkling with happiness as he looks at me.

The sun has long since set, and the evening has grown later, but we aren’t ready to say goodnight to one another yet, so we decide to drive to the park. It seems it’s quickly become “our spot.” Corey grabs a blanket from the back of his car, and we stroll hand in hand along the path, illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights.

We make our way over to a spot on the grass near the bench where I had confided in him about the most challenging part of my past. The lush green blades cushion our weight as we settle onto the blanket. We continue to talk about small things, like school, friends, and mundane daily tasks. I asked him about Taz, and he told me he gave him a call but would be visiting him in person tomorrow. A sense of relief washes over me, knowing that his friend has someone like him looking out for him.

“That guy saved my ass more times than I can tell you,” he says with a hint of gratitude in his voice. “This is the least I can do.”

“It was really cool of Sascha to help out,” I add, though, in the back of my mind, I know I’ll owe her something for her assistance later.

“Do you happen to know what happened between them?” He asks curiously.

“Not really,” I reply, remembering how vague Sascha had been when explaining their estranged relationship. “All she said was that they were close when they were younger, and then he drifted away.”

Corey nods, slightly furrowing his brows as he tries to understand their animosity. I can see the confusion in his eyes, and I’m just as lost in the explanation as he is. Slowly, we both settle into a laying position on the ground, our bodies angled towards each other with our shoulders touching. Our intertwined hands rest between us as we gaze at the stars above.

In the quiet stillness of the night, I turn my head and study Corey’s profile. His dark hair falls messily over his forehead, and I can see the sharp angle of his jawline beneath the hood of his sweatshirt. As if he could sense my longing gaze, he slowly turns to meet my stare with an intense look of his own. The air around us grows thick and charged as if we are the only two people in the world. My fingers tingle with the urge to reach and touch him while my lips ache to taste his.