Page 59 of Revolve
The soft strum of the guitar grows steady, and this time instead of staring at his hand, I take it. His smile is unforgettable. The way his warm hand completely engulfs mine; the effortless tug that pulls me flush against the solid planes of his body; and the crisp, intoxicating scent of him wrapping around me like the lyrics.
Dylan sways, with my hands on his shoulders and his pressing into my waist. He’s so effortless in his moves, so fluid, I melt into him like butter on hot toast. The song slows, and the lyrics of the chorus do nothing to drown out the way my heart beats against his. Dylan pulls back, and his eyes roam my face with such tenderness that it almost physically hurts to stand here and let him look.
Dylan draws a featherlight path to my jaw, dusting his thumb over my lips.
I imagine how the tiny quirk of his lips would feel against mine. He looks like he needs this, like I’m giving him something he’s never had before. Then as the music feels louder in my ears, he wraps me in his big arms and leans in so his head is buried in the crook of my neck. When he inhales, I can’t help but do it too. We’re dancing on his porch, with the cold fall air not even touching us. The hum of a guitar and a deep voice serenade us while we hold each other like we’re not two complicated people with bad luck. Like we’re just two college kids, dancing on a porch.
TWENTY-TWO
DYLAN
Sierra:Why is your entire hockey team following me on social media?
Dylan:Because they’re nosy idiots.
Sierra:Aw, you talk about me?
Dylan:No. I think about you.
Sierra:You’re thinking? Big day for you then.
Dylan:Brat.
Sierra:Asshole.
I live with three children. Since the night on my porch, the guys haven’t stopped talking about Sierra. Apparently, they found watching us from the window more interesting than their reality TV show. I’ve been avoiding them, so I’m early to the rink when I spot Kilner in the equipment room, laying into some rookie. When he sees me, he waves the kid off. I’m pretty sure the poor guy was about to cry.
“Isn’t scaring the rookies supposed to be the captain’s job?”
He scribbles something on his clipboard. “Captain’s too busy getting himself suspended.”
“About that, I never apologized,” I start. “You trusted me, everyone did, and I broke that. It was never my intention to let my personal issues affect the game, and I hate myself for it more than you ever could.”
“Hate you? Why would I hate you?” He sighs heavily. “I’ve told you. I don’t give up on my players. You can be in the NHL, in a different sport or career, and I’d still support you. But lucky for you, we’ve got movement on your suspension. Reed and Dean Hutchins just need to approve you for a portion of the games.”
“Really?” I’ve been so focused on skating that I hadn’t thought about why I was doing it.
“I’ve reached out to the NCAA, and once we get you fully reinstated, you’ll be reassessed by New York. Then all you idiots can finally leave me alone and I’ll get a normal captain.”
“You’re going to miss us,” I tease. “But since Sampson can’t, and I’m out, who’s interim captain?”
Kilner grits his teeth. He pulls out a stress ball and squeezes the life out of it. That makes my brain fire before the answer hits me like a puck to the face. No way. Holy. Fucking. Shit.
“It’s Kian, isn’t it?” I guess.
Kilner doesn’t answer. He rumbles something between a groan and a growl.
“Oh, this is amazing. I love this. I love this so hard.”
“You know what? I am angry at you.”
“No way. I might throw a party for the new captain right here.” I can’t stop laughing. Kian being the interim captain might be the best news I’ve received all week.
Kilner runs a hand over his jaw. “Why do I even bother with you idiots?”
I clutch my stomach, trying to calm myself down. “You’re going to get so much quality time with your favorite player. Can I tell him?”
“Let’s hold off on giving Ishida any news that’ll make his head burst,” he says.
