Page 21 of Spring Break with a Slap Shot

Dakota's expression softens momentarily, and he reaches across the table to touch my hand. The contact makes me realize how much I've come to crave his touch.

"It's not about worth, Harmony." His thumb traces small circles on my wrist. "You're worth it. That's not the question."

"Then what is the question?" I challenge, fighting the urge to turn my hand over and lace our fingers together.

He withdraws his hand, leaving my skin cold. "The question is whether either of us is set up for this right now. Your career is in Oklahoma. Mine is here. We met a week ago."

"Six days," I correct automatically.

A ghost of a smile touches his lips. "Six days," he concedes. "Not exactly a solid foundation."

I know he's right. The rational part of me knows that what we're experiencing is likely nothing more than vacation-induced intensity. Yet the same analyst in me also recognizes outliers, anomalies that defy conventional patterns.

"You're withdrawing," I say quietly. "I can feel it happening. Since last night, you've been pulling away."

Dakota's jaw tightens. "I'm being realistic."

"No, you're being scared."

His eyes flash, the hazel darkening to amber. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms. "The great Dakota 'Lucky' Miles, fearless on the ice but terrified of genuine connection. Your teammates call you the team's resident fuck boy for a reason, right?"

It's a low blow, repeating what he told me himself during one of our late-night conversations, but I need to break through the wall he's constructing between us.

"That's not fair," he says, voice dropping an octave. "You don't know my life."

"I know what you've shown me," I counter. "This week, you showed me someone who isn't afraid of intimacy. Someone who talks about more than just hockey and hookups. Someone real."

His expression flickers. I think I've reached him, but then his game face slides back into place.

"This week was real," he admits. "But so is the fact that our lives don't align. I have the biggest games of my career coming up. You've got—what did you call it?—severe weather season. Neither of us can afford distractions."

The word 'distraction' hits me like a slap. Is that all I am to him? A pleasant diversion before the real work begins?

I retreat into the safety of facts and figures. "Did you know that long-distance relationships actually have about the same success rate as proximate ones? Around 58% according to some studies."

Dakota's expression shifts from frustration to something like pity, which is infinitely worse. "Harmony..."

"And technology makes it easier than ever. There are even apps specifically designed to help couples maintain intimacy across distances." My voice sounds hollow even to my own ears. "Of course, the success variables include communication frequency, visit regularity, and commitment clarity."

"Are you seriously giving me statistics right now?" He shakes his head. "This isn't a weather pattern you can predict."

"No, it's not," I admit, deflating slightly. "Weather is actually more predictable than human emotions. At least storms follow physical laws."

A heavy silence falls between us.

"I just think," Dakota finally says, carefully measuring his words, "that we should enjoy this last day without expectations. Let's not ruin what we have with promises we might not be able to keep."

The scientist in me understands his perspective. The woman who's spent nine days falling for him wants to argue, to fight for the possibility that we could be the exception to the statistical rule. But his expression—guarded, resolved—tells me this is a battle I won't win today.

"Fine," I say, wrapping my fingers around my now-lukewarm latte. "No expectations. No promises."

Relief and something like regret flash across his face. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," I warn, meeting his gaze directly. "Because while I won't push for promises, I'm not giving up on us entirely. I've spent my career studying unpredictable phenomena. I know that sometimes, against all odds, patterns emerge from chaos."

Dakota's lips part slightly, surprise evident in his expression. Whatever response he was expecting, it wasn't this.

---