Page 68 of Across the Boards

My phone buzzes again, and I know without looking that it’s Sarah, who has the patience of a caffeinated toddler when she wants information.

I KNOW YOU’RE AWAKE. If you don’t call me in the next 3 minutes, I’m coming over. And I’m bringing Tommy’s mom, who has been DYING to meet you and will absolutely ask about your reproductive plans.

I nearly choke on my coffee. Sarah fights dirty.

With a sigh, I call her, knowing there’s no escape.

“FINALLY!” she answers on the first ring. “I’ve been dying here. Tell me EVERYTHING. Did you sleep with him? Was it amazing? Did he do that thing hockey players are supposedly good at because of their strong?—”

“Sarah!” I interrupt, scandalized. “It’s not even 9!”

“It’s never too early for sex details,” she replies cheerfully. “Especially when they involve Brody ‘Arms For Days’ Carter.”

“There are no sex details,” I say firmly, taking a bite of the croissant. Oh god, it’s even better than it looks.

“What? Why not? Elle! What happened?”

I sigh, settling onto a barstool and cradling my coffee. Through my kitchen window, I can see the hazy outline of Camelback Mountain in the distance, already shimmering in the morning heat.

“We kissed.”

“And?”

“And... it was nice.” Even to my own ears, this sounds like a massive understatement. “Very nice.”

“’Very nice’?” Sarah repeats incredulously. “You sound like you’re describing a hotel continental breakfast, not making out with the hottest defenseman in the NHL.”

“I’m being circumspect.”

“You’re being ridiculous. Was there tongue? Please tell me there was tongue.”

“Sarah!”

“What! I’m invested in your happiness. And your sex life. Which have been depressingly correlated for the past three years.”

I roll my eyes, though she can’t see me. “Yes, there was tongue. And hands. And... we ended up on the couch.”

Her squeal is so high-pitched I consider hanging up on her. “I KNEW IT! Tommy owes me twenty bucks!”

“You bet on us again?” I’m not actually surprised, just exasperated.

“Of course we did. Tommy said you’d make him wait at least a week after the gala. I said you’d cave last night because of that thing he does with his eyes when he looks at you.”

“What thing?” I ask before I can stop myself.

“That intense, focused thing. Like you’re the only person in the room and he’s memorizing every detail of your face. It’s very effective. Tommy used it on me when we were dating.”

The accuracy of her description is unsettling. “It’s just a look, Sarah.”

“Honey, no look makes a woman invite a man in at midnight unless it’s a very special look.” Her tone shifts, becoming more serious. “So if there was kissing and couches involved, why do you sound like someone canceled Christmas? Did he do something wrong?”

I hesitate, unsure how to explain. “Not wrong, exactly. Just... he knew I lived here before he moved in. Tommy told him. It feels like he orchestrated our meeting.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “And that’s… bad?”

“It’s not good!” I protest. “He kept information from me. Made decisions based on knowledge I didn’t have.”

“Let me get this straight,” Sarah says slowly. “You’re upset because an attractive, successful man was so interested in you that when he found out where you lived, he chose to move nearby in hopes of seeing you again?”

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