Page 26 of Rinkmates

Inside the elevator, the space feels impossibly small.

My heart races as Riley’s cologne, a heady mix of woodsy smells and fresh laundry, wafts toward me once more. I try to keep my eyes ahead, but I couldn’t help sneaking a glance at his strong jawline and these impossibly broad shoulders.

He must have sensed my gaze, because he turns to catch me staring. “Like what you see?” he says. Oh, that stupid teasing glint in his eyes.

“There’s leftovers from your breakfast right above your jaw. I thought I’d tell you, so that you don’t end up embarrassed.”

“What? Where?” He rushes to the mirror, but of course he won’t find anything because his damn face is perfect and I just wanted to say something—anything. I feel bad about it, but I can understand these girls out there. This man is so handsome I feel like an ogre next to him. He’s way out of my league, and I have no idea how they can believe that I could be his girlfriend. I live in a trailer. He lives in this rich penthouse. He looks like a Calvin Klein model, my hair hasn’t seen a hairdresser in years. My face is plastered with makeup that’s worth ten dollars in total, and my nails are short, broken, and not even worth mentioning. I look down at my feet, suddenly feeling absurd for saying yes to this clownery.

People will laugh at us. At me.

“You’re seeing things, girl,” he says, and we enter his minimalistic, oh-so-manly apartment.

“Sorry,” I say with a mischievous grin.

He catches my smile and his own grin widens. “You’re quite the trickster. Got me good.”

I chuckle, feeling a bit more at ease. “So, where’s my room?”

My room is tucked awayat the end of the hallway, three doors down from his.

Once a guest room, it now hosts a jumble of my belongings, a mix of cheap finds strewn across the floor. My room oozes luxury with its silk-draped canopy bed, nestled amid a sea of plush velvet pillows and golden-threaded linens. Sunlight dances through floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating polished mahogany furnishings.

Leaning against the devastatingly beautiful closet, I ponder where to begin unpacking while talking to my mom on the phone.

“Unpacking is supposed to make me feel better, to solve my problems,” I tell her in Hungarian. “But it’s killing me. I thought I’d be moving in with a girl. With someone nice like Priya. Mom, I packed my silly pajamas. Can you even believe it?”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad, honey,” she replies, barely containing her laughter.

It’s clear she’s amused by the whole idea of me living with Riley. Apparently, my mom isn’t any more discerning than Priya. Unbelievable.

“Mom. My shower gel and shampoo were chosen for price, not scent. All I have is that bottle ofPAW Patrolshampoo.”

In my defense, I did get three bottles for the price of one, and they are massive. It will probably last forever.

“It’s going to be okay. You’ll see,” Mom says, and I wish she could see me roll my eyes.

Slumping amid all my stuff, which mirrors the chaos of my life, I sigh deeply. Among the mess are my worn, gray ice skates, my flimsy dress, and a black box in the center. At the sight of it, my heart grows heavy.

Mom rambles on about how good ol’ Dan’s trying to convince her to cook for him, now that I’m not around. Even though I miss them both, her story fades into the background as I carefully place a blue teddy bear on the shelf behind me.

“Are you still there, honey?” she asks.

“Yeah,” I reply, touching the little blue bear. I squeeze it, and even though she can’t see me, I hear her sighing as deeply as I do. “It’s going to be all right. I just know it. You’ll be amazing and he’ll be so proud of you.”

The teddy bear feels like a lifeline. It is. I’m not doing this for fun. I have to make things work with Riley. This is my only chance to make things right.

I pat the bear one more time. I can do it. I will do it. “Thanks, Mom. I already feel better. I just miss you both so much.”

“I miss you too. But look, it’s only six months. It’ll be over before you know it.”

A knock on the door makes me jump. I hurry to open it.

“How’s it going?” Riley asks, and my eyes drift to his tattooed arm. Of course, his entire right arm is covered in tattoos, and of course, I’ve always found tattoos incredibly hot.

“Um, good,” I lie and tell my mom that I’ll call her back.

Riley glances over my shoulder, his brow furrowing as he takes in the chaos of the room that was perfectly organized just half an hour ago.

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