Page 91 of Bombshells
He shakes his head with an amused smile. Then he sits closer and cuddles me against his chest. “I’ll be on time. So you’ve still got an hour or more to get to practice.”
“Okay. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“I did.” He kisses the side of my face tenderly. “But I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye. Trying not to make all the same mistakes again.”
“So you won’t lose my number this time?”
He chuckles, stroking my hair. “I won’t even try to stay away from you, Sylvie. I don’t think I could do it. You make me too happy.”
I eat up every little caress and each whispered word. This is all new for me. But I still have questions. “Where do we go from here, then? Apart from not losing each other’s numbers.”
“Well, I’m not a hundred percent sure,” he admits. “I’d like to spend time with you.”
“But we’ll keep it casual,” I hear myself clarify. The truth is that I don’t really know what that means. I can’t imagine a day when I look at Anton and think, Eh, I feel so casually about you.
“Yeah,” he says, rubbing my shoulder with one of those talented hands. “There’s also the matter of a certain teammate of mine.”
“You could just tell him,” I say immediately. “I mean if we end up spending enough time together that the sneakiness gets awkward.”
“Maybe,” he hedges. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, either.”
“He’s your friend,” I point out. “He likes you. It’s not going to upset him.”
Anton makes a face like he disagrees. “I have a reputation—not always deserved. And he’s overprotective of you…”
“Which is not always deserved,” I grumble.
“Exactly. But that means Campeau is never going to think I’m good enough for you.”
“Good enough for what, though?” I press. “For jogging on the river, and spicy chicken and—”
“Sex,” he says silkily. “He won’t like our little arrangement, because he’ll think I’m using you.”
I make a rude noise. “That’s so sexist. Who’s to say I’m not using you for sex?”
“You can use me anytime.” He nudges me back onto the mattress and spreads himself on top of me. “Now I have to go. It’s sad but true.”
“Okay,” I whisper up at those brilliant eyes. “Just think about it. Maybe find a moment when you can tell him that the mystery man is you.”
“If that moment presents itself, I’ll do it,” he says.
Then I get one more perfect kiss before he goes.
* * *
The next few weeks are full of joy, for so many reasons. My coach asks me to start another game against Providence and then also a game against Albany. We win the first and tie the second. My save average remains enviable, even if my game minutes are still modest.
My personal life is on even more of a winning spree. Anton and I spend a lot of time together. We still go running, in addition to our newest activities. And our classes at the pool are even more fun than usual, because the kids are working hard as the date of their test approaches.
“Did you see that race between Trina and your tall guy?” I ask in the cab on the way home. “What’s his name…?”
“Manny,” I supply. “Trina kicked his ass!”
“On the first race,” she corrects me. “But not on the second one. It was a photo finish.”
“Do you think they’re all going to pass?” he asks me, his golden hair darkened by pool water, because he doesn’t like to dry it. “I’m worried about Cedric.”
My heart gives a little squeeze at the thought of my happy-go-lucky hockey player worrying about one of these teenagers. “Don’t forget what adrenaline is capable of,” I point out. “If Cedric wants to pass, I’ll bet he’ll find a way.”
