Page 72 of Rosie and the Beast Next Door

Roommate Group Chat

Dylan: Any more brilliant ideas?

Bret: You rejected my singing idea. It makes me wonder how committed you are to this fake relationship.

Dylan: I’m committed to not running her off so…

Gage: Because you’re into her.

Dylan: Not relevant.

Bret: There is NOTHING MORE relevant.

Bret: Dylan

Bret: Bruh.

Gage: I think you should kiss her senseless. Just make sure the other guy is around to see it. If that’s still your objective.

Dylan: I’m not staying in Winterhaven. Remember the four-step plan we made?

Bret: Plans are overrated.

It had totally beena ten.

I scrubbed a hand down my face as I stared in the mirror later that night. What was I doing? Taking Rosie to my favorite spot in Winterhaven? Kissing her? Teasing her? Wishing I could sneak her right back to that spot and kiss her again?

I was having fun, but I needed to focus on getting back on the team.

Still, I couldn’t get the feel of Rosie’s pliant lips out of my head, how she’d so readily let me pull her close. How my pulse had thumped so hard I was sure she’d hear it. I’d never had a kiss like that before.

I went into the bedroom and grabbed my phone.

Dylan: What do you know about Rosie’s dad?

While I waited for Hudson to respond, I looked at the team’s schedule for the rest of the season, even though I had it memorized. We had one more playoff game this week, and if we won, we’d get into the finals.

A text from Rosie popped up on my phone. “Post this and caption it with something funny.”

She’d attached a picture of me covered in paint in front of the library. I was smiling at her—my eyes soft and sparkling, revealing all my secrets.

Dylan: Funny? I’m sorry. You have me mistaken for someone else.

Dylan: Besides, won’t it look like I’m having so much fun I don’t care about the team?

Rosie: Nope. Not if you do another post right after with this picture.

She sent one of me that I hadn’t realized she’d taken. It was the night I’d been at the restaurant, watching the Peak’s hockey game. I was literally on the edge of my seat, my hands gripping the table, my attention riveted on the screen with longing.

It made my stomach ache to look at.

Dylan: This is too much.

Rosie: You have to let yourself be vulnerable.

I didn’t want to be, though. My opponents had to see me as someone formidable. The game started long before they got onto the ice, and they needed to believe Beast was more than just a moniker. It’s who I was—someone to fear on the ice.

I’d skipped photo shoots with puppies for more private ice time in order to bring my best to the team. I didn’t come home to Winterhaven on breaks, I’d spent every spare cent on the best equipment and help money could buy, and I’d worked myself to the bone so I could be a winning player.

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