Page 73 of The Christmas You Crash

Loved. It’s far too early in our relationship to be thinking along those terms. But I also can’t deny that I’ve daydreamed about it. What it would be like to be loved by Ryder Hanson. What it would be like if someone in my life put me first. But that’s a dangerous wish to nurture. Ryder is in the first year of a two-year contract. He needs to play well this season and maintain that momentum so he can negotiate an extension. Hockey is his livelihood and his passion. It’s understandable if I come second to that. Still, I can’t help it. When I’m lying awake in bed at night, I daydream about Ryder telling me that nothing is more important to him than me.

Does that make me selfish? Delusional? Sad? I don’t know. Rachel’s right, though. I need to give whatever this is time to grow into whatever it could be.

“Is it terrible that I want to look up the guy who injured Ryder and send him a fruit basket while simultaneously wanting to punch him in the dick?” I grin as Rachel chuckles. “He is the reason we met, after all.”

“What’s his name again?” Rachel asks.

“Chase Bowen.”

Her eyes narrow. “Right. He plays here, doesn’t he? For the Chicago Blizzard?”

I nod. “Yep. He and Ryder used to be close.”

“I’m going to get tickets to one of their games and hold up a mean sign the whole time,” my best friend vows. She looks so serious, I can’t help laughing. A few students glance my way, but I don’t care. Rachel is my ride or die. Her loyalty is unparalleled. I’m lucky as hell to have her in my corner. Apparently, Ryder has her in his now, too.

Laughter spills from my lips as I get closer to the building where my next class is held. “Oh my god, Rach. Please do that. I swear, that would make my whole year.”

Her earthen eyes glint with determination. “Oh, I will. I’m going to look up games and ticket prices as soon as I get off the phone with you. I’ll get Adam to go with me.”

God, I love her. “You’re the best, you know that?”

A strand of russet hair whips across her face, making her sputter when it gets stuck to the gloss on her lips. She pushes it out of her mouth with a huff. “I know.”

I’m about to commend her modesty when I spot a large crowd gathered near the entryway of the building housing my next class. “What in the world is going on?” I mutter.

“What?” Rachel peers at me through the phone.

“There’s a big group of students near the door of Pryor Hall. Which is weird, because it’s cold as hell out here.” Narrowing my eyes, I try to figure out what’s causing the flash mob. It’s an eclectic mix of male and female students. Quite a few of the guys look like athletes. They have the build. I can tell, even though they’re all wearing heavy coats. The women, though, are what throw me off. They’re all chattering excitedly to themselves, giggling, and batting their eyelashes. It seems like they’re converging around someone.

And that’s when I see a black knit cap pulled over familiar dark hair.

Ryder is significantly taller than most of the surrounding people, except for one or two guys. He’s smiling and taking photos with the students, but he looks bemused. Like he can’t quite believe these people are even remotely interested in him.

“Oh, my god.”

“What?”

“Look.” I tap the icon to switch my phone off selfie mode and point the camera at Ryder and his gaggle of giggling fangirls and fawning fanboys. As I get closer, I can see that he’s clutching two cups of coffee, and my heart swells, even though a small part of me bristles at the flirtatious looks and touches the women give him. To his credit, Ryder dodges as many of the touches as he can. It still rankles.

“Is that Ryder?”

I flip the camera back to selfie mode and grin. “Yep. It looks like he brought me coffee. Someone must have recognized him and caused a swarm.”

Rachel shakes her head, smiling. “How weird is it that you’re dating a guy who gets swarmed with fans?”

“Weird,” I say. And it is. I’ve seen people and reporters swarm my dad after games. At times, it was fun and exciting. Then there were the times when I needed my dad, and he wasso preoccupied with the people around him that he didn’t even notice I was there. Where it had been exciting and cool when I was younger, it became a source of bitterness and frustration as I got older. Seeing Ryder like this elicits a complex cocktail of emotions.

On the one hand, I’m so freaking proud of him. That he’s getting recognized as a first-year player is impressive. It speaks to how well he’s been playing so far this season. It’s also adorable to watch him interact with people and be so confused by their attention. On the other hand, it makes my insecurities scream. If this is the kind of attention he’s getting as a rookie, what will it be like when he really comes into his own? Because I know enough about hockey to recognize that Ryder Hanson will only go up from here. He’s skilled and driven, and the way he’s gelling with the rest of the Rogues is magical. He’s going to be a force to be reckoned with. A household name. The level of attention he receives will only grow.

Can I handle that?

Do I want to?

“Your face is doing something weird, Lex,” Rachel says. It pulls me from my spiral. “You okay?”

“What? Of course. I’m good.”

My friend only hums. She doesn’t completely believe me, but she doesn’t call me on it. Rachel is aware of my issues with fame. I vented to her many times during our four years as roommates. “He’s not your dad. You know that, right?”

---