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It occurs to me I could brush my fingers against his arm so we’ll be even.

But that’s an absurd thing to ponder.

His cologne is heavy, and my nostrils flare. I look down, because I don’t want to act like a barbarian who’s never been exposed to cologne before.

But I notice it all the same.

Sebastian hurries back to his seat. His steps are too quick, red still paints his face, and I frown.

I don’t have children, but Evan is always happy to talk about his daughter Stella when he’s not talking about playing hockey to the best level possible, when he’s not just a captain, but a man. And though it’s hard not to notice how much Evan adores Stella, it’s also hard not to pay attention when he talks about wanting to raise Stella to be the best possible version of herself, to be fearless, to not cause fear.

If I’d been fearless, maybe I would have gotten Bryce to stop all those years ago. I knew what he was doing was wrong, but I told myself my brother wouldn’t do anything too bad, that he had a reason. The brother who taught me how to ride a bicycle, who took me to hockey practice, who cheered at the sidelines of every game in Ashcove couldn’t be bad, couldn’t be misled.

But I’m pretty sure I was wrong.

Bryce was imperfect, and I knew better, and I only said a few words, a few times, when I should have said many, all the time.

“I’m going to start the interview,” Sebastian says. “Everything is edited, though I can’t promise it won’t be edited in an interesting manner. But I might ask the same question a few times, and I might suggest answers to questions.”

“That sounds naughty,” I say with a wink.

He busies himself behind the camera right an away, and I wonder if I’ve been unprofessional. God, I hope he doesn’t think I’m unprofessional. I’m not here to waste anyone’s time. I’m here to do a good job. That’s all. I’m here to make everyone happy. Troy. Noah. Nate. Team management. Sebastian.

A green light flickers on.

“So, Luke, how was today’s game?”

I lean back, relieved, then remember not to change my position too much. “It was awesome. We won.”

Sebastian grins back at me.

“Now, what made you decide to joinSeeking Mr. Right?”

“Um...”

The tips of Sebastian’s start to slide down, like snow melting.

I hope he can edit that away.

I’m not sure if I want to admit that Troy and Noah put me up for it, because management sure as hell will be watching this, and if this goes wrong, I don’t want it to reflect on them. I don’t want to admit I’m a long-time viewer. Sebastian will have too many questions I’m not prepared to answer.

“I haven’t been in a relationship in a while,” I admit finally.

“Ah.” Sebastian nods. “But you’re open to love.”

“I guess,” I say, then I shake my head. Viewers don’t want a Mr. Right who says “I guess” to the prospect of love. They want a lead man, a hero. Something I’ve never been. On the ice, I’m one out of many. I’m always looking for who I can send the puck to, who is best positioned to take us to victory.

“I mean,” I say, “I am open to love. Definitely.”

He smiles. “Continue.”

“There’s nothing like it, right? Someone whom you can be yourself with. Someone you can do things with.”

“I suppose you must have lots of functions to attend,” he says.

“Sure. I’m involved in different charities. And charities often have events and fundraisers. But it’s not just that. I don’t want someone out of convenience. I would have settled down with someone long before if that was my chief criterium.”

Sebastian nods, and I know I’m supposed to continue.