Page 106 of Breaking Away

We send the party planning committee home, paying them their full wages for the day. All that’s left behind are the canapés and the champagne.

Two hours later, we’re home with a lot of groceries and the biggest, most elaborate barbecue grill on the market. It takes up a whole corner section on his terrace.

And then—the team arrives.

Laughing, wide-eyed teammates who have clearly never come to Lokhov’s place before. By the door, my feet lift off the ground. I’m bear-hugged by every player.

“Kavi, this is amazing!” A wine bottle is pushed into my hand.

“Thanks for having us over!”

Emmad does a three-hundred-sixty turn. “This place is huge!”

Matt offers me a jumbo container of mashed potatoes. “My grandma’s recipe,” he shares with a sweet, gap-toothed smile.

Quinn hauls in a keg of beer. “Kavi, where can I put this?”

I gesture. “The terrace works!”

Dmitri is there, manning the barbecue.

It strikes me when I detangle myself from the team—who have enthusiastically found the champagne tower—that Dmitriis running a hand through his hair and fidgeting with knobs on the grill.

Is he… Could he be… Shy?

I don’t know how to friend.

I’m unabashedly staring at him. My smile is soft and goes softer when our eyes meet. There it is. The flash of his uncertainty.

He is shy.

And suddenly I’m re-evaluating high school memories of him. He went to post-game dinners with the team, but whenever I saw him, he was eating or busying his hands with a drink, never really talking to anyone. I’ve also never seen him at one of those bonfire parties or the backyard hangouts bored kids in a small town put together.

Does he actually not know how to do this? To socialize? To let people in?

At the thought, protectiveness surges through me. I’m compelled to move. Weaving around players, I go to him, meeting Hughes along the way, as if he had the same idea.

(I’ve decided to call him Hughes now, because, I don’t know… It has nothing to do with wanting to have only one hockey player in my life that I have a nickname for, once I figure out what it is).

“This thing is a beast,” says Hughes, admiring the grill. “Let me help. I can help, right? We can be grill brothers!”

Puppy eyes come out, and honestly, I can see why women fall for him. The silliness is infectious. Even Dmitri’s mouth twitches.

“You can stand beside me,” Dmitri says. “Just don’t talk.”

Then he looks at me, his hand stroking my arm so quickly I feel like I imagined it. “Let me know if today gets to be too much.”

“I’m good. Um. Thanks.”

“How adorable,” smirks Hughes.

Me and Lokhov roll our eyes together.

Quinn ambles over. He’s got the keg ready.

Hughes clears his throat. “Who all is coming today?”

“Is Sonya coming today?” I ask, because my instincts tell me that’s who Hughes is asking about, but also because I want to know. Since going to the game together, we’ve been messaging each other. And it’s been great, cool, and casual. Even when I want to cap-locks send her a text that says:

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