Page 13 of Can't Always Get What You Want

Gio makes that very clear at the start of each season. Loves the sound of his own voice—gets up on a bench in the locker room like he’s delivering a speech to Parliament, droning on about "stay away from my sister, keep your dicks in your pants," blah blah blah.

Anyway.

I’m pretty fond of my teeth exactly where they are. And Gio has made it painfully clear that if anyone so much as thinks about messing with his sister in a way that isn’t strictly respectful and aggressively platonic, he’ll personally rearrange their face—no dental plan required.

He polices this shit harder than a ref on a power trip.

Don’t know if I’d act the same way if I had a sister, but I also don’t know that I wouldn’t? My teammates are all fucking cool; I can’t see myself cockblocking any of them.

I exit to downtown, driving slowly because traffic is insane.

The Rainforest Café isn’t difficult to find, and I after I park, I check my phone—no texts. No last-minute cancellations.

Good.

She hasn’t chickened out on me.

I exhale, running a hand through my hair before stepping out of the car. This is fine. Everything is fine.

If Nova wants giant aquariums covered in toddler fingerprints— and a volcano brownie that shoots firecrackers for a first date—then I’ll give her thebest damn Rainforest Café experience of her life.

3

nova

Ishouldn’t be nervous.

I’m way too cool for that.

Not to mention, I’m comfortable.

My sneakers squeak against the tile as I wander through the gift shop of the Rainforest Cafe, dodging shelves of stuffed frogs and tie-dye T-shirts that say I SURVIVED THE STORM! Such a dramatic slogan for a restaurant that simulates thunderstorms, but hey—I loved that shit when I was younger.

I flick my gaze toward the entrance. No sign of Luca yet.

Good. I need a second to breathe and compose myself and pretend I’m unaffected by the anticipation.

To busy myself, I pick up a plastic snow globe with a tiny, spinning parakeet inside and give it a shake, watching dozens of colorful butterflies flutter inside.

“Cute.”

The deep voice rumbles right behind me, so close that I nearly fling the damn snow globe across the gift shop. My breath catches as I spin around, clutching the overpriced trinket like it’s a live grenade.

“Jesus,” I exhale, pressing the snow globe against my chest. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” I set it back on the shelf.

Luca is completely unbothered.

“Nah. Just checking your reflexes.”

Dang.

Up close and personal, he is bigger than I remember. Massive, even. Broad shoulders, thick arms, the kind of build that makes it painfully obvious he plays hockey for a living.

And he knows it, too. Standing before me all smug, giant hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, unaware that my heart rate just kicked up a billion notches.

I straighten my spine. “My reflexes are perfectly fine,” I mutter. “You’re so lucky I didn’t chuck this at your head.”

“Tsk tsk. Let’s not choose violence before we even sit down for a drink.” He leans in slightly, lowering his voice like he’s sharing a secret. “Wouldn’t be the first time a girl’s thrown something at me.”

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