"And?" He shifts slightly forward on his seat, his body moving closer to mine.
"A superstar."
"Okay."
"An icon."
"Uh huh." Every time he speaks, he closes a little more of what's left of the tiny gap between us, and my lungs lose an inch of air.
"My friend's husband's player."
"So?"
When I can barely breathe, let alone speak, I let my final—yet most important point—fly from my lips.
"Drew… you're fucking twenty-five."
His face drops slightly as he looks back and forth between my eyes. "What's that got to do with it?"
A laugh comes out with my shallow breath.
"Everything.”
8
Drew
Fuck me.
Asif the girl from the gala wasn't already making herself a permanent spot in my mind, she had to show uphere. At our first game. And even more perfect than I thought.
The only thing about her that I didn't find adorable, intriguing, or fucking sexy as hell, was the fact that she already wrote me off ten months ago. Part of me loves that she's not like anyone else I've slept with, trying to take as much of me as I'm willing to give. But most of me can't stand the fact that I finally found someone I wouldn't mind seeing more of, and she's already convinced herself thatwewould never happen.
After Brooke—fuckingBrooke—laid out all of her excuses, refusing to admit that there's something between us, she asked the bartender to pack up her food and split. Short of chasing her through the hotel lobby, there wasn't much I could do besides watch her walk away. Butdamn—even that I didn't mind.
She thinks I'm too young, too famous, too well-known, and too close to her social circle. I don't know her despite our two interactions, but I'm almost positive this girl isn't afraid of what other people think. No, she'sworried I'm not the guy to settle down with. That I'm not old enough to want anything serious, especially with my job and reputation.
She might be right. Shit, I've never really thought about it before right now. I'm twenty-five, in the prime of my career, or at least trying to get back there, and I'm a fucking mess inside. But a "normal" life sounds pretty great right now—maybe exactly what I need.
My saving grace is that I know she's here for Cooper, which means she's at least sticking around Grand Oaks until the game. That gives me time—and real inspiration for my season kick-off performance tonight. Dare I say, it's a little true motivation to put on the show I know I have to anyway.
Skating around the ice for our morning practice, my mind seesaws back and forth between her and the game. Thinking about the two, I scoop a puck onto the end of my stick and toss it in the air. When it falls, I kick it back up with the side of my skate then catch it smoothly on the blade again, mindlessly occupying my time before I'm interrupted.
"Yo, where were you last night?" Burnsey asks, skating over to me. He smacks the bottom of my stick with his, knocking the puck loose so it falls to the ice. "Starving yourself part of your new pregame ritual?" He slides the disc back and forth as I follow its movement.
"Nah, I grabbed food at the hotel bar. Thought I'd try the solo thing for once."Turns out I didn't exactly end up alone.
"Ah, goin' all Stormy on me, eh?" The Canadian in him slips through his words as my eyes fly to his.
"You knew about that? That Petrov never eats with the team?"
Burns freezes, his lower half still hunched over his stick. "Bro. He'snevereaten with us." He laughs as he continues. "He's too cool, apparently. I don't know what the hell he does on his lonesome, but God forbid you ask him about it at warm ups the next day."
He shivers dramatically, and I crack a smile. I can picture it now. Burns bein' Burns and in everyone's business, meanwhile Petrov puts the fear of God in him to protect his little poems.
"And you call yourself our captain," he mutters, shaking his head.
I know he's messing around, but my face immediately turns. I push off my back foot and glide just inches from him, our blades nearly kissing. "Don't."
