Page 158 of The Fake Date Agreement

Because I don’t, I bend to grab my bag. “I should?—”

Two seconds later, he has me pinned to the plexiglass, muscled arms caging me in, the intoxicating scent of his skin andthe hard, warmth of his body making this a prison I don’t want to escape from.

He’s still wearing his skates and is remarkably steady. Maybe those skate guards make balance easier. To me, it still seems like trying to walk on razor blades.

Even though he’s six-foot-four and practically looms over me, and he used that size to intimidate Marc into leaving my dorm, I’m not the least bit afraid.

His head lowers, and I have to fight with myself not to run my fingers along his shadowed jaw. “What’s your dream, Myers, and why aren’t you chasing it down?”

I look away so he won’t see how much I like it when he calls me Myers. It’s weird, I know, but I’m used to being on my own, studying on my own, and occasionally going out with my friends, but more often than not, alone.

A team of one.

He makes me feel like I’m a part ofhisteam, and I like it. I like it a lot.

I snort. “You make it sound like I’m a squirrel going after a nut.”

His fingers are surprisingly warm. The tips are calloused as he angles my face back to his. His head lowers farther, closing the distance between us and making the breath catch in my throat. “I want to hear it.”

“No, you don’t. You think this fake dating is a waste of precious practicing time.”

“Maybe I’ve changed my mind.” His gaze flicks to my mouth and turns hungry. “It won’t be the first time you’ve changed my mind about something.”

“Like what?”

The guys on the ice shout something at Caleb.

He shouts back, “Ten minutes” Then he turns back to me and in a quieter voice, says, “I want to hear your dreams, Myers.”

“You have practice.”

“I have you, and I’m not finding it as easy as I thought to let you go.” His surprise at the softly spoken words mirror mine.

“I wanted to be a teacher,” I tell him quietly. Then I shake my head, my cheeks burning. People dream of being doctors, finding a cure for cancer, or being the best hockey player in the world. “I know it’s stupid. It’s not a big dream like?—”

His thumb on my mouth silences me. “With dreams, there’s no comparison. You want what you want. Why’d you want to teach?”

My eyes flick behind his shoulder. “Your coach is looking.” I thought his coach would be screaming at him to get back to it. But he seems surprisingly chill about the team captain casually pinning me to the side of the rink.

“If he wanted me on the ice, I’d know about it. Tell me.”

I look at him, trying to figure out if he means it.

He’s serious.

I shrug, twisting my fingers together. “I don’t know. It wakes something up inside me. It feels like something I would never get tired of doing. I love sharing what I know and helping people understand something they don’t.”

“So you’ve done it before, but you stopped. Why?”

I avoid meeting his gaze. “I just did.”

“But you still want it.” There’s no doubt in his voice.

I peek up at him. “What makes you think that?”

“Dreams don’t die for no reason, and I got a good look in your eyes when you were telling me yours. That fire is still burning. You need a Chinese takeout and energy drink intervention to figure out your next steps?”

I smile and try not to notice his eyes lingering on my lips.

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