Page 62 of Ice Dance Hockey

I don’t want to fight with him. I grab his large hand and place my smaller palm flat against his. He calms down and intertwines his fingers with mine.

“I don’t want him to hurt you,” he says.

I laugh at his absurdness. “He’s not going to hurt me. I’m not getting romantically involved with anyone while I have you, gorilla. I just want to lose my V-card.”

Our fingers are still laced together. We’re not dancing, there’s no one around. It’s just us on the ice, my hand warmed by his ogre-sized one.

“You frowned when you were over there.”

“He said he had notes for me and I’m unbelievably bad at taking critique from peers. I’d rather if the coach told me, but it doesn’t require the cavalry.”

Rhett holds my chin between his thumb and pointer finger, sweeping the thumb over my lip. “Let me rail your V-card out of you. We can go to my place right now. Hell, I’d fuck you here on this ice if I didn’t think it would get us tossed in jail.”

My body sings with delight. My heart rams against my ribcage. I think he actually wants me. “J-Jack’s waiting for me.”

He doesn’t take his eyes off me. “Fucking, Jack. Always fifteen minutes early.”

Fucking Jack? Did he really just say that?

“Alright, I’ll text you later,” he says, leaning in. My cheek lights on fire and a wash of prickles trails over my skin under his hovering lips, quickly replaced by cool air as he jerks up short.

He was going to kiss me. I was going to let him.

It’s … it’s reflexive at this point. That’s all.

Yeah. That’s all it is.

Chapter13

Meet The Elkingtons!

Logan

“Stop it,” Rhett says.

“I’m fucking nervous, asshole.” Okay, maybe I need to take it down a notch. We’re in the McLaren, heading to his parents’ fancy house. I pull down the passenger-side mirror to see if my hair’s fallen out of place. “Did you have to wear so much cologne? I’m going to puke.”

He rolls down the passenger-side window for me, which I immediately roll up because it’s going to wreck my hair. I’m uncomfortable in these clothes to boot. Khaki slacks and polo shirts are not my vibe. I look like a country club reject. I fruitlessly pull the short sleeves over my arm tats as if that’s going to cover them.

“That’s it.” Rhett pulls the car over. His parents live in Point Grey, one of the bougiest areas of Vancouver so I’m told. “Get out of the car. Now.”

“Not gonna open my door, Elkington? Guess I’m not putting out for you tonight after all.”

Not that I said I was. We left that on a little cliffhanger. And I want him to open my door. That’s what’s normal for us now.

“For the love of—” He gazes to the roof of the car. “Stay there.”

It’s just before seven pm and the sun’s orange light is lower in the sky. It’s a warm night, too warm for khaki and polyester. There are large billowy trees speckled with various shades of green with a brilliant glare off their shiny leaves when the sun hits them just right. Even I can’t deny the beauty of this place. It’s like stepping back in time.

There’s a click, and I jump as he opens the door. He yanks me out, but then I’m plastered against his large frame, and clinging to him allows me to breathe again.Safety.It’s pure safety right here. When did Rhett become my safe place?

“What’s the matter?”

“They’ll hate me.”

“Even if they do, why do you care?”

“Because a whole bunch of shit is on the line.”

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