Page 9 of Spring Break with a Slap Shot

Last night was amazing with the way his hands explored every curve of my body and the intensity in his hazel eyes as he looked at me. That was a damn good way to break my two-year long dry spell.

What's the protocol here? Do I wake him with a kiss or slip away like Cinderella minus the glass slipper drama?

I opt for stealth mode, gently untangling myself from the sheets and tiptoeing across his room. For a split second, I have a notion that I’m not just leaving the room; I’m trying to escape what happened. No, I can't think like that. I just don’t know how to navigate post-hookup awkwardness.

Finally, I make it back to my own room and head straight for the shower. As hot water cascades over me, I scrub away the remnants of last night, willing my brain to switch off. Acting like nothing happened seems like the best play. After all, isn't that what Dakota would do? Mr. Laidback Hockey Star who probably sees this as just another notch on his stick.

Steam still swirls around me as I step out of the shower and wrap myself in a towel. My curls cling to the nape of my neck, still dripping wet. I'm startled by the buzz of my phone against the bathroom counter.

Marina:Ready to brave the world for some coffee? Meet me by the stairs?

Me:Give me 5.

I dress quickly, opting for comfort in a soft tee and denim shorts. Slipping into sandals, I grab my phone and take a deep breath before stepping into the hallway.

Silence greets me first, then Marina's impish grin as we convene at the top of the stairs. We exchange a look that says 'let's not talk about it,' and descent to the kitchen. We pause at the baseof the stairs to see another well-defined muscular guy casually leaning against the kitchen island.

"Good morning," he says with a deep voice. His intense gray eyes scan us briefly.

"Morning," I manage, feeling a blush rise to my cheeks. It's one thing to deal with Dakota, quite another to meet his roommate in this awkward morning-after atmosphere.

He extends a hand, introducing himself with a firm shake. "I'm Kaleb, Dakota's roommate. He sent me a text last night letting me know to expect guests."

"Harmony," I say.

"Marina," my friend chimes in beside me.

Kaleb nods, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Want some coffee?" Kaleb offers, already reaching for mugs and filling the first cup.

"Please, we were about to go out and find some, but the sooner caffeine gets into my body, the better," I reply, wrapping my hands around the warm ceramic as he hands it to me.

The sound of footsteps echoes from the stairs, and then there's Dakota in just shorts, no shirt. The sight of him makes my core tighten.

"Good morning," he says, voice still husky from sleep as he strides over to me. Before I can respond, his arm is around my waist, pulling me closer, and I'm suddenly very aware of every place our skin connects. His lips press against my cheek in a kiss that's far too intimate for a room that isn't just ours.

"Morning," I reply, a little breathless, trying to act like I get good morning kisses from half-naked hockey players all the time.

From the corner of my eye, I catch Marina exchanging a look with Kaleb. It's the kind of look that doesn't need words, that says they're both fully aware of the way Dakota's sheets were tangled between us a few hours ago.

Trying to ignore the prickling awareness on my skin where Dakota's lips had been, I take a sip of my coffee.

We gravitate toward the kitchen island bar stools to sit. Marina hops onto one, while I take my place beside her.

"Okay, tell us something interesting about yourselves," Kaleb says, leaning back against the counter.

Marina goes first, "I'm a marine biologist. Octopuses are my favorite—they're basically the geniuses of the ocean."

Kaleb nods, clearly impressed. “I’m Canadian and play hockey with Dakota. The guys call me Viking.”

"Nice." Dakota's turn brings a roguish grin. "I've played hockey since I was three. And yes, before you ask—I do have all my teeth." He flashes a perfect smile.

Their eyes turn to me. "Well, I'm Harmony, a meteorologist," I say, tucking a stray curl behind my ear and hoping my profession sounds at least half as cool.

Settling into Dakota's world, with its open spaces and the constant sound of waves crashing in the distance, I sense a shift inside me—an intrigue. It's different from my structured life. Here, it feels like spontaneity rules, and it's different. I like it.

"Your turn, Harmony. Tell us something else about you," Dakota challenges.

---