Page 97 of Gloves Off

There’s a beat of silence that almost feels comfortable.

“Good game tonight,” I say, for some reason.

“You saw it?”

“I checked the score.” And watched a few highlights, even though I normally avoid them.

“The rookie did well.”

“So did you.” He got an assist.

“An actual compliment? Maybe you hit your head, too.”

I laugh before I catch myself. This conversation has veered into something new for us.

I don’t want to stop, though.

“You’re okay this week?” he asks. “Alone in the house?”

“Of course.”

“I can ask my parents to come stay.”

“Don’t do that. You’ll be home tomorrow. And even if you weren’t, I would be fine.”

“For next time, I mean.”

“I don’t want to put them out.”

“You wouldn’t. They like you.”

My heart glows. What happened to not getting attached? I guess there’s no point, when our parents already know one another.

“I like them, too.” I smile, thinking about the way Maria teases Nikita. “They’re funny, and kind. Somehow that skipped right past you.”

He does a low laugh. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Anyways, where would they sleep?”

“You’d have to sleep in my room, I guess.”

Arousal fires through me at the thought of sleeping in his bed, inhaling his scent.

“Have you been sleepwalking?”

Blood rushes to my face as I remember waking up in the middle of the night in his bed, and then his smug, condescending expression at the airport after we shared a hotel room for three days in a row. “No. Of course not.” I swallow. “Alexei?”

“Mmm?”

“When we shared a hotel room on the road.”

He waits. My heart thumps erratically.

“What did I do?”

Another beat. “You cuddled me.”

Horror floods my nervous system, followed by humiliation.

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