Page 23 of Rinkmates

I carefully reach my hand out. She just looks at it. Damn, I’m not sure if she’s going to hit me again or laugh at me. I say it anyway, “Hi, my name is Riley Huntington, I’m a hockey player and have a spare room for you. Scouts honor, I’m a nice guy.”

She doesn’t take my hand and I just stupidly leave it there for her to shake. The seconds stretch and I’m so close to just storming off. For real this time. But her frown changes into a smile that could kill me. Fuck, she’s so beautiful.

And then, she finally takes my hand and I can’t help but sigh in relief. I shake it and there’s this sizzling spark shooting from my fingertips up to my spine, and I do everything in my willpower not to say something stupid likewoah.

“I’m Liora James, a figure skater who turns homeless soon if she doesn’t agree to this stupid idea,” she says.

I let out a nervous laugh. She doesn’t join in.

“So, you’re up for grabbing a bite and getting to know each other before sharing rooms?” I ask, flashing a smile.

She averts her gaze. “I can’t really afford eating out.”

“No worries, I’ve got it.”

Her frown deepens once more and I have absolutely no clue what I did wrong this time.

“Riley, if we’re doing this, I won’t be your charity case. I mean it,” she says. “We need clear rules, a contract, both of us laying out what we expect.”

So much for getting to know each other. But she’s right, we’re talking business here. “Got it, you want to keep this as professional as possible.”

She nods. “No distractions. I need to win this show, there’s no other option for me. We’ll think about a strategy that makes us both win, and nothing else. And I want a key to my own room.”

I halt for two seconds, wondering what she must have gone through if she trusts people so little. “Sure. So, are you in then?”

She nibbles her lip but nods eventually. “I hate feeling like a burden on my friend in there, and we’ve been on the hunt for a decent apartment nonstop. Yours is…okay. So, yeah, I’ll give it a shot.”

“Okay? It’s fantastic.”

“Don’t need another girl boosting your ego.”

I laugh. This is going to be a catastrophe. “Okay, okay. I got it. Then let’s grab your stuff and head to my ‘okay’ apartment.”

Seven

LIORA

When Riley drove up with his black, shiny Aston Martin, I couldn’t help but marvel at the sleek lines. I’ve never been in a car that cost this much.

Just as I’m about to ask where to put my stuff—feeling embarrassed about my worn suitcase I bought when I was fourteen—he snatches my bag from me and puts it in the trunk. Apparently, there’s no arguing with him when it comes to loading his car. He then holds the car door open for me, and I behave for once and slip in. But I can’t ignore that my hand brushed slightly against his when I do. It’s awkward. We’re both adults and should know how to act around each other, but instead, it feels like we’re seeing someone attractive for the first time.

I give Priya a wink and a thumbs-up. I giggle. She’s practically glued to the window, and so gone for him. He even snapped a selfie with her, causing her to die a little inside.

It’s strange the effect he has on women. I’m not immune to his looks either, but every time a girl just looks at him, she seems to momentarily lose her train of thought. Okay, I do, too, but it’samusing. It’s like he’s the kind of guy everyone finds attractive, the point where all threads meet.

Priya said that Brea, her influencer roommate, only dated hot guys, but even she pranced past us with a look of sheer astonishment, and I think her soul had momentarily escaped from her body the minute she saw Riley. And the worst is, he just knows he can have them all. I googled him the other night…

He grew up in the Hamptons, with a silver spoon practically welded to his mouth. His family owns multiple hotels in New York, a legacy spanning decades, and his mom sells mansions to pop stars. If girls didn’t swoon because he looks like Michelangelo’sDavidcome to life, they’d swoon because he can probably buy anything he wants. It makes me hate my situation even more, feeling like a stray he’s taken in. I need to make it clear this is a job.

The car ride to his apartment is filled with tense silence.

After a while, unable to bear the heavy silence any longer, I clear my throat and muster up the courage to speak. “So, um—”

“Are you—”

We both speak simultaneously and burst into laughter.

“Sorry, I couldn’t stand the silence. You go first,” he says.

---