Page 54 of Ice Dance Hockey

Whipping my phone out, I see that it’s too late. He’s already read the message. Dammit. I’m too used to calling him that in public and even typing it for social media bologna. My number of followers skyrocketed to a quarter of a million after the whole shoe-shopping debacle and they’re demanding fuckers, only wanting more, more, and more hashtag RhettLo.

Dammit, sorry.

It’s fine.

It’s. Fine.

Ugh. Now he’s going to think I have some crush on him or something. I don’t. Even though Rhett has done some pretty spectacular things for me, I know they’re for show and I know the real him who is an arrogant and controlling bastard. Plus, all the Elkington rules are enough to drive the sanest of the world off a cliff.

Whatever. I can’t think about him right now. I’m going to meet Scott fucking Orser and I guess I have to admit that I do have a huge crush on him. Yet another thing that Mercy and Rhett seemed to pick up on before I did. Oh God, will he know I’m crushing on him? I’m like a third-grader when it comes to this stuff. If I have a crush on you, Ineverwant you to know it.

I arrive at the coffee shop. People stare. Right. I’m a little bit famous now thanks to Rhett, and showing up on a motorcycle isn’t the most discreet thing I could do. A tingle of worry stirs in my gut. What will Maxwell Elkington think about my bike? Will he tell me I’m not allowed to ride it while I “date” his son? I should have taken an Uber or accepted the ride from Jack, but the truth is I wanted to look cool for Scott.

Holding my helmet, my leather jacket creaking as I stride into the coffee shop, I spy Scott seated at a table. He stands and smiles one of those million-dollar smiles like Rhett has, but he’s blond and doesn’t have a too cleft-y chin. He’s wearing a green polo with the top two buttons undone and a pair of khaki slacks.

Dammit. Why did I wear this? I should have borrowed something from Jack. Taking a breath, I saunter toward him, but the oxygen does shit to calm my nerves. I kinda wish I was Jack right now. He’s rarely nervous about anything and even when he is in the slightest, he always has some kind of technique one of his dads taught him and he plows through.

Jack. I’m Jack right now.

“Hey, man. Nice to meet you, Scott.” I cringe internally. I never talk like that.

He flashes his brows. “Been looking forward to meeting you,” he says. “Too bad you’re taken.”

Double dammit. He might be a fuckboy. Who opens with a line like that except for a fuckboy? Does it get rid of the hardness in my pants? Unfortunately, not. A rock sinks to the bottom of my stomach, too. I’m not used to having a boyfriend, nor am I used to people knowing about the ongoings of my private life before I’ve even met them.

“I don’t know. We’ve got an open thing going on.” Why did I say that?

“Really? Rhett Elkington shares? Didn’t seem that way when he dated your brother-in-law, but I guess we never know what’s going on behind the curtain.”

Fuck.“Um, yeah. Public image and all that,” I say, sounding too much like myself. I have to get better at this. If I can’t keep up the charade with someone I don’t know, I’m doomed for the upcoming dinner with the Elkingtons.

“I look forward to peeking behind the curtain. Here,” he says, nudging a coffee mug toward me. “Americano, black. I figured you’d be like every other figure skater out there, watching your calories.”

That’s, yeah. I like that. With everyone else, I have to fight them on my special diet. Scott is like me. He gets it. “Thanks.”

“I won’t take too much of your time. I mostly wanted to meet and discuss training. Since we live in the same city, I was thinking we could capitalize on that and start practicing before we get to school.”

“I have a time and a place set for practice already, we could meet then … unless you have something better.”

When I tell him where, his eyes widen. “Wow. That’s so rad. Guess I don’t have to ask how you got in with a place like that. The Elkingtons own this city. I don’t mind the early time. I prefer it. We can use your place.”

I don’t correct him to say that Merc got me that spot. The Elkingtons aren’t the only ones with pull around here, they’re just the ones with the most ostentatious PR.

My phone buzzes in the middle of talking logistics, and I check it just in case it’s an emergency. It continues to buzz as I’m holding it.Shit, it’s not a text, it’s a phone call. Rhett. That gets my heart pounding. He doesn’t call often. Did something happen?

“Sorry, I’ve got to take this.”

“Take your time. I have a couple of texts to get back to here.”

“Everything, okay?” I say when I answer.

“No. You’re out with that douchebag.”

Wait, how did he…? Fucking social media. This is probably all over the place by now.

“You can fuck right—”Shit. I almost went full Logan there for a second. “Into me, baby. Later.”

Great. Now I’ve made it sound like we’re some kinda kinky couple in addition to us holding open spaces in our relationship for others. If Scott wanted to, he could have a field day with this.

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