Page 46 of Ice Dance Hockey

We arrive at our table and I pull out his chair like a gentleman, immediately ordering a bottle of Dom. He looks at the wine list and his thick brows furrow together. “Holy shit, Rhett. That’s a four-hundred-dollar bottle of champagne. I don’t even like alcohol as it turns out.”

I shrug. “We can bring it home with us. At least try it. How do you know you don’t like alcohol? You’ve been nineteen for one day.”

“I guess I can’t know, but I don’t like what I’ve tried so far.”

He’ll like the champagne.I make a bet with myself as the now familiar bubbles of exhilaration pop repeatedly.

I tell him about the thoughts whirring in my mind and wait impatiently for the answers.

“Hell, no. I like a little makeup and pretty dresses sometimes—it’s an art and expression thing for me. I love shiny things and glitter. Nails are a hard pass, and I don’t need fucking lash extensions with gorgeous lashes like these.”

I feel like an idiot for having gotten so much wrong about him, but then he tries the champagne and his blue-gray eyes sparkle. He downs the glass and reaches to pour himself another. “Okay, this is good shit, Elkington. Maybe I’m just an expensive bitch.”

I bat his hands away so that I can pour it for him all the while congratulating myself on the win. I can build off this. He likes champagne, so that might be a clue as to what else he might like.

“Now tell me, why are you pissed at me?” he asks after we’ve ordered our meals. He’s ordered something horribly plain again and I ordered two meals, hoping to convince him to indulge a little.

“Pissed at you? I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. When you called me yesterday and I told you about Scott, that’s when I picked up on it.”

Oh yes, Scott. Fucking Scott. Hot jealousy poured like searing lava all over me at the sight of that guy’s picture. I’m not sure why other than that I consider Logan mine, even if only in a superficial sense.

“See, there, angry,” he declares.

“Not at you. I just think that he’s a fuckboy.”

“Oh, God, there are two of you. Merc said the exact same thing. He’s a skating partner and that’s all.”

Sipping my champagne, my intuition finally tingles. “But you have a crush on him.”

“Okay, maybe a small one, but that doesn’t mean anything will happen. More likely, he’ll hate me in less than three seconds.”

He believes that, and I don’t like his crush. “Promise me you won’t lose your V-card to him.”

“I’ll make no such promise. I want to lose it. Everyone thinks I’m naïve and I’m not.”

I doubt he could be completely naïve. I need him to fill in the details for me, but I know he hasn’t had the smoothest childhood. He’s too perceptive for his age. But there are some things he doesn’t have much life experience with. “Thinking that having sex makes you less naïve is the most naïve thing you could think.”

“Fuck off, Rhett. This isn’t an open discussion, nor is it part of our deal,” he says quietly. “Or any of your fucking business.”

“Let me do it. I’ll make it good.”And I actually give a fuck about you.Don’t know when that happened, but Logan is something to me. Friend isn’t the right word, but he’s someone that nobody had better hurt. I’ll fucking kill them. “Please.”

He chews his lip, which means it’s not a no, and that gives me a little hope. He hadn’t really said no in the car either, only listed his excuses as to why he thinks we shouldn’t—Jack and Mercy—which is not the same as not wanting to. When Logan says no, the world knows it’s a fucking no.

His breathing slows down, he’s thinking about it. “Where would we … where?”

“My apartment.”

“Right. I forgot for a second that you’re a real adult.” He sighs. “If I agree—and I’m not, Rhett, not yet—it won’t be any time soon. I need to think about it.”

“You need to think about it and yet you accuse me of not being spontaneous enough.”

I get a taste of his beautiful rage and it maintains the erection I’ve been sporting since he walked into the kitchen at Chateau Meyer.

“Call me a hypocrite if you want to, but I’ll have sex when I’m good and ready. Maybe you’ll be the lucky man and maybe you won’t. I have to say, it’s not looking good for you when you act like this.”

“Nothim.” My rage matches his and I don’t know where it’s coming from.

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