Page 117 of Revolve
Dylan shifts, taking the lavender box from me. He opens it, his fingers brushing over the gold-plated bracelet. The dainty smiley face catches the light, and when he turns it over, he sees our initials engraved on the back. His lips part then curve into the sweetest smile. He clasps it on my wrist, brushing his lips on the skin. “I would have bought it for you, baby.”
“I know, but I wanted something for me. As a reminder of how far I’ve come. With your help, but also all on my own.” I never thought I’d ever get to a place where I wasn’t just surviving but choosing to live. “I got you one too.”
I give him his identical bracelet. “I don’t need a good luck charm, Sierra. I already have you.”
My eyes prick as I clasp it on his wrist. “It’s not for good luck. It’s for us. Always partners, even if we’re not skating together.”
His hesitates but presses his lips on mine, as he whispers, “No matter what.”
I see stars with how thoroughly he kisses me. It makes me squirm under him. Even as he holds his hips away from me, I want to feel him.
“Don’t even think about it, Sierra,” he reprimands when my hand reaches for his belt. “I’ve only got so much self-control, and it’s practically nonexistent when it comes to you.”
“Since when did you become such a buzzkill?”
He bites my lip. “Get this fine ass to my game so I can hear you scream my name.”
“I already do that,” I say. “I’ll do it even louder when you win.”
Dylan quickly jumps off the bed. “Won’t work, baby.”
“It already has.” I shoot him a pointed look just as he opens my bedroom door. “Enjoy your cold locker room shower.”
He groans and then I hear the front door close. My smile makes my face hurt.
An hour later, Summer’s parked out front, and Scarlett and I hop in to head to the arena. Amara decided to join at the last minute, so the car is packed, and the energy is crackling.
They blasted music for the first half of the ride, and now the latter half consists of random topics of conversation. Though the current one makes my palms a little sweaty.
“I have to say, Sierra, I’ve never seen Dylan like this,” says Summer. “He’s been smiling a lot, and not that dumb smirk he always wears. It’s real. The guy’s never been in a relationship, but with you he’s an expert.”
“I got lucky, I guess. Or for once embarrassing myself worked out.” I scratch the back of my neck. “Is that bad? Who mauls their skating partner on day one of practice?” For some reason, opening up to them doesn’t feel scary.
“Not at all. I had sex with my research partner,” Summer says. She must mean with Aiden, of course. “And our friend Cassie had sex with my research partner’s best friend.”
That takes me a minute to track. Kian, I’m assuming.
“And I had sex with my best friend’s best friend,” says Amara, and I’m officially lost.
The car halts abruptly, and we jolt. “What?!” Summer says.
All heads turn to Amara, who slaps a palm over her mouth. She mutters a curse.
“You—you had sex with Sampson?” Summer asks. “And you didn’t tell me? What the hell, Amara! You hate each other.”
“Still do,” Amara replies. “ButGod, he does this thing with his tongue—” She slaps her palm over her mouth again. “Never. And I mean never tell him I said that.”
Summer’s still blinking. “Yeah, we have to talk about this.”
“You sure you need to know more?” Scarlett chimes in. “’Cause that look on her face is saying a lot.”
The car is quiet after that. Mostly because Amara refuses to speak.
The game starts soon after we arrive, and when Dylan taps the glass where we sit, he winks at me, and then all the girls in our section squeal. I roll my eyes, and that’s when he smiles.
By the third period, Dalton’s got an easy win, and Dylan’s on a breakaway for the tiebreaker. With his helmet, I can’t see his face, but the way he moves like lightning down the ice is unforgettable. I’m holding my breath, unclenching my fists when I remember the tiny smiley face on my palm. Instead, I fiddle with my new bracelet. Then he sends the puck flying, and the buzzer echoes through the arena. He flies past us in a celebration, holding his hand up to his ear as the crowd goes crazy. I’m right up against the glass, chanting his name like some crazed hockey fan. Damn it, I might actually enjoy this sport.
“Kind of sad that it’s his last one,” Amara says as she passes me the bag of popcorn.
