Dancing On Ice: One-Night Stand With The Hockey Captain のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 11 - チャプター 20

Anne-Marie’s P.O.V“Yucky!” Maryanne spits, slapping the pack of chocolate biscuits away. Immediately, her face crumples, and her mouth widens into a loud cry. She throws hands, kicks on my lap, and wriggles out of my grip, wailing in disgust and hunger.Diana bends over to retrieve the biscuit pack from the floorboard, then shifts closer, using her handkerchief to wipe off the mess Maryanne spat out from my shirt.“Mommy! Mommy!” She calls, throwing her head back and stretching. Her cap falls off.“Maryanne?” I murmur, shaking my legs and rubbing her back to keep her calm. “Cheerios?”She nods, but keeps crying, hitting my arm softly. “Mommy! Mommy! Ch- eros…”I exhale in distress and lift my eyes to Beatrice, who has already turned to look at us. She picks up Maryanne’s cap.And I ask her, “How many minutes away are we from home?”“Er… About thirty?”“Thirty’s too much. She’s gonna keep crying,” Diana says, still cleaning me up.My baby has turned red. Her tiny fingers go to her sca

Anne-Marie’s P.O.VSlender, fit, and blonde, he slows down when he approaches the bench I’m on. My head tilts back a little as I swallow the lump in my throat. I don’t recognize him at all. He towers and stares down at me, his lips break into a smirk. And with an amused scoff, he says, “You’re even more beautiful in person.”Taken aback, I blink. My lips part to say something, but he drops so quickly into a squat, stretching a hand to me. “Hi, I’m Caleb. And you’re Anne-Marie… The Ice Queen.”“How do you know my name?” I mutter, clutching my backpack to my chest. “Do you know me?”He points a thumb over his shoulder. “Sports psychology class. You mentioned your name when Miss Blake asked.”Embarrassment warms my cheeks immediately.“But I know you… Technically, I know about you.”I blink again. “I’m a figure skater for Northbridge. The only guy on the team.”My eyes spread for a second as I stare into his gray eyes. We never had a guy on the team. “Kaizer would always talk about you

Anne-Marie’s P.O.VSeated outside Professor Roosevelt’s hospital room, I answer the questions Miss Blake dished out to me. My hand moves as fast as possible, my brain working at an even more insane speed. She gave me just thirty minutes for sixty questions out of nowhere. I couldn’t study much on the ride here. I wasn’t prepared for this; I can only hope I at least get a C. This is a golden chance I’ve been given.When I lift my head, I see Miss Blake carrying my baby at the end of the narrow hallway, both of them laughing about something. It warms my heart. Maryanne likes her—a first. It takes my baby at least a few days or weeks to get comfortable with new adults. According to Miss Sarah, today was the first time she didn’t cry all day at the daycare center because she made a new friend – with another crybaby like her. Harriet. They had the same stuffed rabbit, only in different colors, and Maryanne’s been babbling all about her.“The answers aren’t on Maryanne’s face.” Miss Blake ut

Marcus McCarthy’s P.O.V“Thank you– so much,” I stutter, wide-eyed once again as Diana puts a tray of chocolate cookies piled up before me. It’s the third thing she’s offered me since I arrived at their apartment fifteen minutes ago. First was a glass of fresh orange juice, then some fries and chicken feet that I’ve yet to touch, now, this.“Anne-Marie baked that,” she says with a bashful smile, her cheeks flushing warmly.“Oh,” I utter, dropping my eyes to the cute triangle-shaped cookies as my smile spreads. “She baked this?”“Yes, she did… She’s a great cook.”I slowly help myself to one. “Wait,” my eyes flick to her, and I say, “I hope it’s not her little girl’s cookies you’ve given me?”“Er..”I drop the cookie I picked up, straightening my back.“No. No, you can have them… She did bake them for her baby because she suddenly wanted chocolates, but Maryanne said ‘yucky’ after having the first one. She’s not a big fan of sweet food. And it’s not even the sweetest cookies Anne-Marie

Marcus’s P.O.VMy breath ceases, my eyes completely glued to her once she’s out of the building, wearing a short pink dress, a dark jacket, short white socks, and white sneakers. Her ginger hair – rich, long, full, and curly – bounces with every move she makes. My hand goes up, and her head whips in my direction.Just as she ran toward my car on that unfortunate night, as I gave her directions, tonight, she runs toward me again, straight into… my heart. ‘Don’t run,’ I want to say, but she seems to move in slow motion. I blink once, my lips spreading into a smile as I enjoy it. Her legs are long, strong, and athletic. A small white purse hangs on her left arm. In her right hand, she holds a little blue gift bag. Must be that big guy’s birthday present.Her perfume hits me before she gets to me. And when she finally stops,“Anne-Marie.” Her name rolls off my tongue as I’m mesmerized by her beauty. Her green eyes steal my thoughts for a moment; I just stare at her made-up face. Her freck