Page 8 of The Enemy Face Off

She smiles.

Then catches herself smiling.

Then tries to school her features into a neutral expression as she repeats, slower this time, "You were right."

Now, if it were anyone else, like say, my teammates, I'd use this occasion to gloat and rub it in her face.

But this isn't agoofing off with my teammates in the locker roomsituation. This is aI'm finally having a conversation with the girl who's inexplicably been on my mind since the second I saw hersituation.

The non-neanderthal part of my brain kicks in, and I decide to play it smart.

"You were right, too," I tell her, kicking a few loose stones on the sidewalk. "About the puck bunnies. It happens. Quite a lot. But I'm not that kind of guy. That's not what I'm looking for."

"Really?" There's a battle going on in her eyes, like whether she's trying to decide whether to believe me or not. "Because if you were a hockey bro who traveled from city to city and slept with a different woman at each place, you'd 'fess up to that?Orrr…would you feed me some line about how you're…" She puts on a deep voice, trying to imitate me, 'I'm not that kind of guy. That's not what I'm looking for.'"

"Sheesh. Now my voice is under fire."

"I think you can handle it."

"You don't know that. I could be a real sensitive guy with real sensitive guy feelings."

She chuckles. "I highly doubt you're going to be losing any sleep over this."

I open my mouth but stop myself in the nick of time from blurting out something stupid like I have already lost sleep over her.

Ever since that karaoke night when she completely ignored me, I haven't been able to get her out of my head. It makes no sense. She barely acknowledged me, all the signs point to her not having the slightest interest in me, and yet, I can't stop thinking about her. This has never happened to me before.

I've brought it up with Fraser and Culver at our off-season training, casually checking if Beth has said anything about me. They always say that she hasn't. So, either she hasn't mentioned me at all to her girlfriends, or she has, and the guys simply don't know about it. As much as I don't want it to be, I have a feeling it's the former.

Maybe I really haven't registered on her radar at all?

Whichshouldbe fine.

Ishouldbe able to walk away from someone I've hardly spoken to and know almost nothing about.

So why am I standing here, scrambling to find ways to prolong my time with her for as long as I can?

I shove my hands into my track pants pockets. "So, what historical figure are you going to Fraser's party next week as?" I ask, since it's the only thing I can come up with.

"Not telling."

"Right. Well, I left ordering my costume too late, so I'm stuck going as?—"

"Milo, hi." I stop talking and spin around to see my realtor, Willow Wilkins, approaching. She's tall, blonde, and I have no idea how she manages to walk on those crazy high stilettos, but somehow she does. "I thought I recognized that strong back of yours."

Another sound comes from Beth. Less cute this time. More grunty.

"Beth, this is?—"

"I know Willow," she cuts me off and directs a glare at Willow that makes me think these two have history. "I really need to get going. Milo, it's been…something. And Willow, I love your shoes. Bye."

And with that, Beth takes off.

"I'll see you at Fraser's party!" I call out after her.

"I'll ignore you there, too," she shouts back without turning around.

I grin to myself.

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