Page 68 of Icy Pucking Play

Reality, intruding again.

"That's probably Coach," she sighs. "Wondering where you are."

"Probably."

"We should..."

"Yeah."

But neither of us moves.

Because this—whatever it is—feels too good to let go.

My phone buzzes again.

Julia:Mom's already planning the menu. No pressure.

"We're not very good at sneaking around, are we?" Sophie asks, reading over my shoulder.

"Apparently not."

"So..." She bites her lip. "Sunday dinner?"

"You don't have to…"

"I want to." She meets my eyes. "If you want me to."

And maybe that's the real question here.

It’s not whether we can keep this professional. Not whether we can keep it secret. Not even whether we should stop.

But whether I'm brave enough to let it be real.

"Yeah," I hear myself say. "I want you to."

Her smile just might be worth everything that might come next.

Chapter 18

Sophie

“You've fixed your hair six times in the last ten minutes," Cynthia observes from my doorway. "The Daniels aren't going to care if your curls are perfect."

"They might." I fidget with my dress. It’s navy blue, conservative but not too formal. "His mother might."

"His mother already loves you."

"She doesn't even know me!"

"She knows you help Natalia with her math." Cynthia steals my hairbrush before I can make another adjustment. "That's basically sainthood in their world."

"But what if…"

"What if nothing. You've got this." She hands me my purse. "Now go. Your man is waiting downstairs."

Right. Because Evan insisted on picking me up. Like this is a real date instead of just... whatever we've been doing all week.

My phone buzzes.

---