Page 174 of Beautiful Collide

Or at least that’s what I hope.

“Hey, Wilde.” Mason skates out from the net and heads my way. He jabs his stick lightly against the back of my knee.

“What?” I mutter, shoving him off as he skates into my space.

“Your girl’s here.” He smirks.

“Shut up, Goodie. She’s not my girl.” My tone lacks any real conviction, and Mason knows it.

Mason raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with my lie. “Right. And I’m not the best goalie in the league. So you want to tell me the reason you’re staring at her like a lovesick teen, then?”

I aim my stick to hit the puck, ignoring him. He skates back to the net, leaning on his stick, prepared to block my shot. “Seriously, just go talk to her. You’re not exactly subtle, dude.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The words come out too fast. I want to cringe at how defensive I sound.

Mason snorts, shoving off the ice and skating in the opposite direction. “Sure, you don’t.”

I let out a long breath. My heart’s pounding like I’ve been sprinting drills for an hour, but I know Mason’s right. I’m not doing myself any favors by pretending I’m not aware of Molly sitting up there.

I skate toward the boards.

By the time I reach the coaching box, my pulse is doing double time. I have no plan. No reason to be here. I’ve spent years thinking I’m good at improvising, but somehow, every time Molly’s involved, I feel like I’m seconds away from tripping over my own feet.

The door creaks as I step inside, and Molly looks up, startled.

“Hudson?” she says, her voice sharp with surprise. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be on the ice?”

I shrug, leaning casually against the wall. Or, at the very least, trying to look casual while it’s blatantly obvious I came in here for her. I am regretting all my life choices at this very minute.

“Needed a break and wanted to check-in. Looked like you were working hard.”

She narrows her eyes. “The coaching staff isn’t here. What exactly are you checking on?”

“You,” I say simply. She hasn’t been herself lately. With every failed lawyer, I can feel her getting more and more anxious.

Her mouth opens like she’s about to respond, but no words come out. Her cheeks start to flush. It’s adorable how flustered she gets. She pulls her gaze away from me and looks back at her tablet, clearly trying to compose herself.

No one is buying the act, Hex. Just admit you’re excited to see me.

“I’m fine,” she says after a moment, but her voice is tight.

“Yeah, I can see that. You’re working so hard up here. Really breaking a sweat.”

“Someone has to.” Her eyes are still on the screen, refusing to look at me. It’s cute. It’s as though she thinks I’ll stop bothering her if she continues to ignore me.

Spoiler alert: It won’t work.

I take a step closer, folding my arms. “Admit it. You just like watching me skate.”

That makes her look up. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” I taunt. “You’re up here, watching me. And you’re not even subtle about it.”

“I’m working.” She sits up straighter. “Not everything revolves around you, Hudson.”

“Sure, it does.” I take another step closer. “So, what’s on the tablet? Practice stats?” I challenge. “Notes on my incredible performance today?”

Her lips press into a thin line, and she angles the screen away from me. “You’re ridiculous.”

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