All Chapters of My Pathetic Obsession With The Hockey Boy : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

CherylThe heavy oak doors of the library annex slammed shut behind me with a sharp, echoing crack, cutting off the dim, suffocating air of the study alcove.I didn't slow my stride as I hit the freezing pavement of the quad, my boots crunching hard against the crisp, frost-covered grass. The biting wind whipped my hair across my face, stinging my cheeks with tiny, icy needles, but I welcomed the physical burn. It was a clean, sharp sensation that helped drown out the raw, ragged tearing happening inside my chest.Footsteps pounded rapidly against the pavement behind me, heavy and uneven, closing the distance with every second."Cheryl, wait a damn minute!"Carlson’s voice cut through the wind, rough, raspy, and desperate.I didn't stop. I kept walking toward the wider concrete path leading away from the library, my arms wrapped tight across my coat as if I could physically hold my shattered pieces together by sheer force of will."I said stop!"A heavy hand gripped my elbow, pulling

CarlsonThe digital clock on my bedside table glowed with an aggressive, neon-red light, reading 2:14 AM.I was lying flat on my back on the narrow twin mattress, staring up at the dark, water-stained plaster of the ceiling, listening to the rhythmic, howling rush of the winter wind rattling the windowpane. Sleep wasn't coming. It hadn't come for hours. Every time I closed my eyes, the cold, accusatory ring of Cheryl’s voice echoed against the inside of my skull: If our relationship isn't real, if we are just two people using each other to survive a toxic campus ecosystem, then why do you even care?The question was a relentless phantom, circling the dark room, refusing to be reasoned away.I tried to approach it with logic, stripping away the panic of the midnight hours and attempting to dissect my own behavior like a game tape after a bitter loss. A rational person, a guy operating strictly within the parameters of a tactical, mutually beneficial contract, would have handled the ano

CherylThe quiet hum of the space heater vibrated softly through the floorboards of Remy’s apartment, its amber glow casting long, warm shadows across the dark hardwood.Outside the frosted window, the snow continued to fall in heavy, suffocating sheets, burying the university town beneath an impenetrable blanket of white. Inside, the world had narrowed down to the worn leather sofa, the scent of cedar and chamomile, and the steady, unhurried presence of the boy sitting beside me.Remy didn't move away when my knee brushed against his. His hand remained wrapped gently over mine on the warm ceramic mug, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles across my knuckles. His gaze was anchored to my face, deep, attentive, and filled with a profound, uncalculated tenderness that felt like water poured over a burning wound.You don't have to defend yourself in this room, he had said. With me, you just get to be Cheryl.The words continued to echo in my mind, stripping away the heavy, iron armor I

CherylThe heavy brass latch of the apartment door had not yet clicked into the frame.I stood on the threshold, one boot planted on the cold, snow-dusted landing of the outdoor stairwell, my hand frozen against the painted wood of the doorframe. The freezing winter wind whistled up the narrow wooden steps, biting into my face, but the icy shock of the air was entirely eclipsed by the heavy, suffocating stillness holding me in place.Inside the apartment, the soft, low hum of the space heater vibrated through the floorboards. Remy hadn't returned to his drafting table. He was standing three feet from the open doorway, his dark hair falling across his forehead, his long fingers wrapped around the edge of the entry console. His amber eyes were fixed on my face, not with the quiet, self-protective distance he had shown moments ago, but with a raw, exposed intensity that made my chest tighten until I couldn't draw a complete breath."Don't walk down those stairs thinking this was just a m

CherylThe drafty hallway of my off-campus apartment building was cold, silent, and smelling faintly of damp wool and old radiators.I stood just inside the main entrance, my back pressed flat against the heavy wooden door, listening to the muffled howl of the blizzard sweeping past the glass transom overhead. My hands were stiff from the freezing walk back from the framing shop apartment, but the physical cold was completely eclipsed by the chaotic, overwhelming storm tearing through my chest. In the span of a single hour, the foundational ground beneath my feet had been violently pulverized.I closed my eyes, but the dark brought zero relief.Instead, it only amplified the echo of Remy’s quiet, unyielding confession: I've been in love with you for two years, Cheryl.The words hung in my mind like a physical weight, warm, steady, and terrifyingly real. For months, while my family life shattered into cold dismissals and my academic standing was put on the chopping block by Professor H