Page 71 of Switching Skates
“Holt!” Coach yells at me from the bench, and I wince at his tone.
Fuck.
That was my fault. I should’ve been able to stop that shot. I hesitated, read it way too late, and they took advantage of it.
Thankfully, this is only practice and not a game, but still. I need to get my head on straight because I’m usually a solid wall.
Lifting my glove into the air, I wave my apology, ducking my head.
Skating back around, facing my net, I shake off whatever the hell that was and reset.
Dropping into form, I crack my neck and ready my blocker as the teams set up on center ice for puck drop.
Exhaling a breath, I mutter to myself, “Fucking lock in, Holt. Let’s go.”
But it’s really fucking hard when I know that after this, I’m going to be on a date with Daphne.
I just need to get through the rest of this practice.
I get ready at my place before leaving to pick Daphne up from her house. I needed some fresh clothes, and I wanted to give her a little space and time to spend with Maeve.
Speaking of my sister, she made sure to shoot me a text earlier after learning of our plans tonight, letting me know that I would meet my maker if I fucked this up.
Grabbing the bouquet from the bench seat, I kill the engine of my truck and step outside, feeling like a thousand bees are stinging my skin.
I’m so goddamn nervous, unlike yesterday, when I had some liquid courage, which gave me the confidence to ask her out, but I’m running sober tonight.
I didn’t want to risk a single memory getting fuzzy.
Closing my pickup door, I take a deep breath and brush my hand down my shirt to straighten it out. It’s a lot cooler at night now, and since it’s nearly eight o’clock and the sun is setting, I chose jeans and one of my favorite Mammoths shirts.
I had about a thousand outfits laid out before I finally decided on this. I was scared that something dressier wouldstand out, and we’re going to a local fair, so it’s not exactly the place to be super dressed up.
I swear I don’t overthink anything in my life unless it comes to her. I just want to impress her and win her back, and every step of the way on that journey matters.
Adjusting my backward baseball cap, I walk to the front door with the bouquet of sunflowers and white roses in hand. My heart is beating against my ribs, rattling me to my core as I knock.
I could probably walk in without them questioning it since, you know, I’ve been living here. But I want to treat this like a date because, to me, it is.
The door opens, and I’ve never been surer than in this moment that I’m head over heels for this girl.
She’s it for me, and she always will be.
Her eyes pin me in place, outlined in smoky light-brown makeup with golden accents, making the blues of her irises pop that much more. Her orange-and-red hair flows down her back in loose curls, tucked behind her ear.
My gaze drinks her in—from the gold earrings to the thin straps of her sundress, to the way the floral fabric perfectly outlines her full breasts, flowing down her body and stopping in the middle of her thighs.
“You look”—I exhale through pursed lips—“like the rest of my life.”
The corners of her lips kick up, and she sucks her bottom lip between her teeth with a sensual stare.
Holding the flowers out for her, I clear my throat. “These are for you.”
She happily takes them, inhaling deeply as her eyes drift closed. “Mmm. They smell amazing. My favorite.”
“Oh, I know.”
Her eyes open at my statement.
