Page 15 of Revolve
“You heard?”Way to set a good example, Dylan.Though it’s not a worry, because Ada Donovan is a genius. She’s sixteen and studying biology at a Boston STEM academy.
Ada laughs, and she sounds so much like my mom, it cuts like barbed wire. “You mean my brother being labeled a pothead? Yup. Mom even called, and I tried to assure her everything was okay. But I haven’t seen you in forever, Dyl. What’s going on with you?”
“I’m fine. It was a stupid mistake that’s not going to happen again.”
“Did it have anything to do with Dad’s latest display of fabricated affection?” she asks.
See?She’s too smart. “Mom seems to be on board with it. But it doesn’t matter. I’m not going.” If my mom wants to stay with him, I won’t stand in the way anymore. “But I’ll see you during break, Ada, I promise. I just need to figure out this mess.”
“Fine,” she says sadly. “You know, sometimes I miss skating with you because we got to spend so much time together while practicingand for competitions. Though I’d rather forget when that scout asked ifyouwanted to ditch me and go solo.”
I wince. “You were good; he was an idiot.” Ada and I did pair skating growing up. We weren’t half bad, but when I found hockey and she found her textbooks, skating drifted.
“Liar. I was awful, and you were so good it was annoying. Ihatedskating, and I only did it because of Mom.” She laughs. “Do you still do it? I know you live and breathe hockey or whatever, but do you?”
“Haven’t really had the time,” I say. Skating always came easy to me, and I don’t think I ever really left it behind. I get enough glares from Kilner when I mess around on the ice and do a little show for the home crowd.
“Well, you have all the time now,” she says. “Maybe even enough to call every now and again. I’m always here if you need to talk or fill me in on all your college parties.”
“Nice try.”
“Worth a shot,” she mutters. “Oh, and tell Kian I haven’t forgotten about him. He texted me that I was picking favorites between my brothers.”
“He’s just sensitive.”
“You mean like always?”
I laugh. “Exactly.”
Just as Ada hangs up, an arm brushes mine when someone stands beside me.
“Pickup for Sierra,” she says, and the pharmacy technician in the back smiles and waves. But I wouldn’t have noticed any of that if not for the dark-haired figure skater scribbling her name onto the sign-in sheet.
The beginnings of a smirk form on my lips. “Sierra, huh?”
She freezes, and her eyes widen. But then that tiny fire sparks when she looks at me. “Dylan, huh?”
I didn’t expect to like the sound of my name on her lips this much. “Been doing your homework, I see. Did you go home and lookme up?” I ask, leaning against the reception desk. “Find any good pictures?”
“Yeah, I have the perfect one taped to a dartboard.”
Is it bad that that turns me on? Ever since her skate blade comment, I think I’ve dreamed of it more times than I care to admit. But that might be because of my current dry spell. “You know, I’d bet you’d land your jumps if you spent a little less time checking me out.”
Her jaw tightens as she glances impatiently toward the technician. “Great talk, Coach. Let’s never do it again.”
“I kind of like it when you call me Coach.”
She deadpans, “Yeah? Is that what gets you going? Being referred to as a forty-five-year-old man?”
“Kilner is not forty-five.”
“I never said Kilner. But good to know that’s who you fantasize about.” She raises a perfect brow.
“You haven’t seen him in the weight room, then.”
“Stop.” She shudders. “He’s like a dad to me.”
“I think you mean DILF.”
