Page 47 of Rinkmates

I take my hand back, ignoring the questions on his face. “Please don’t ask.”

He winces slightly, kisses my cheek, and turns back to the plumber, asking with a straight face, “So what’s the damage?”

Why is he’s so damn good at this? I’ve never seen anyone flirt like him, and it’s all fake. How must it be if he’s really interested in a girl? He smiles, and my knees already turn to jelly.

I make my way to the living room and sink down on the plush couch, my mind reeling. Living with him is such a mess. He called me his girlfriend so easily, even though the very idea of seeing me naked seemed to disgust him. Why else would he swan dive out of the way to avoid glimpsing me in just a towel?

My stomach twists as I replay the scene—the flash of horror in his eyes, the way he couldn’t get away from me fast enough. He clearly hated the thought of me that way. But it’s okay. We’re business partners anyway. He doesn’t need to be attracted to me just because I am attracted to him. For whatever reason.

I text Priya.

Liora: I totally destroyed Riley’s bathroom. A pipe burst while I was showering. I’m MORTIFIED.

Her reply dings a moment later.

Priya: Don’t even worry about it, girl. That smoking hot jerk treats you like crap anyway. Serves him right! Burst anything you can!

I frown at the screen. The thing is, Riley doesn’t treat me badly, not really. He’s not a jerk. He just…doesn’t seem to like me very much. And in return, I don’t particularly like him either. I mean, what was there to like? His smoldering eyes? That crooked, knee-weakening smile? The way his hair always looked effortlessly tousled, like he’d just skated off the ice? That huge bookshelf I wanted to live in once I saw it? His stupidly good humor that I secretly adore but pretend to hate? The stupidly good curry? Yeah. I hate Riley Huntington.

And I refuse to be one of his vapid, puck bunnies.

My phone buzzes again.

Priya: But how do you break a shower?

Sighing, I text back.

Liora: The plumber said it wasn’t my fault. Old pipes or something.

Priya: You know what this means, right?

Liora: No?

Priya: There’s only one bathroom. GIRL. I’m dying!

My stomach drops. Shit.

Just then, I hear Riley’s footsteps approaching, and I brace myself.

He swaggers toward me, a frown creasing his face, clearly stressed out by the situation. He halts in front of me, concern flickering in his eyes. “You okay?” he asks.

I force a smile. He’s worried about me? He should be worrying about his apartment. “All good, just having the worst guilty conscience.”

He sits down beside me, closer than necessary, and I can feel the heat radiating from his body. “I’ll say it one last time. We’ll get it sorted. Don’t worry. We just have to”—I watch his Adam’s apple work down a swallow, as if he, too, notices our thighs are touching by now—“share a bathroom for some time. Easy as that.”

I nod. Yeah. Just a room. We can share it. “You’re away anyway…right?”

“That’s the thing. I’m not.”

A knot tightens in my chest. He’s…not?

What the heck does he mean he’s not going away? He needs to!

He must see the panic in my eyes because he quickly adds, “We made it to the play-offs and have a little time off now.”

“Oh.” That’s all I can say. “Congrats?”

I have to share a bathroom with him?

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