Aven stands his ground long enough to flash a smug smile to show off his obvious pleasure at riling them up and then turns to leave. “See you on the ice, boys.”
Conrad is the first to glance back.
“You good?” he asks Travis.
“Yeah.” His tone isn’t completely convincing. He sits, worry etched into his features as he looks me over. “I’m so sorry he brought you into our shit. He was looking to piss me off. You’re a fantastic gymnast.”
My lips curve, which seem to confuse him. “You’re worried aboutmeright now?”
“Yeah?” It comes out like he’s questioning my question more than the idea of worrying about me at this moment.
I place a hand on his thigh. He glances down at the way my fingers rest just above his knee before his gaze locks backonto mine. “I know a bully when I see one. He would have said anything to get a reaction out of you two.”
Travis nods, tense expression relaxing. “Still. That was out of line.”
“I’m fine,” I assure him. Victor Aven might even be right about me, but not about Travis and I won’t let him think it because of some jerk.
Conrad finally takes his seat too, but he looks far more agitated than Travis. “I fucking hate that guy.”
“I can tell,” I say. I start to pull my hand away, but Travis covers it with one of his. “I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you talk.”
Conrad’s lips twist and slacken into a small smile but then the dark clouds cross his expression again. “I’m going to take a walk.”
“You good?” Trav asks him.
“Yeah. I’ll be back.” With a nod, he’s gone, leaving me with one less angry hockey player.
Travis blows out a breath.
“That was intense,” I tell him. “Areyouokay?”
“Yeah. Aven’s a world-class prick. I just wasn’t expecting to see him here tonight. I wanted it to be perfect.”
“What?”
“Our first date.”
I let out a small laugh and his happy grin returns. He’s still sitting close, and his fingers still cover mine. His thumb absently plays with the band of my ring. I’ve gotten used to its presence remarkably fast. The weight of it has an almost grounding effect. Heavy but calming somehow.
“I had no idea I was on a date.”
“Didn’t you?”
I did or at least when I was getting ready tonight that’s exactly what it felt like.
Instead, I ask, “Is this your typical first date move? Take a girl somewhere fun and exciting, a little exclusive.”
“I don’t think I’ve been that deliberate in my planning, but yeah, I guess I tend to pick places I think we’ll have a good time. How’d I do?”
I hum a noncommittal response.
“Where’d you take the last girl on your first date?”
His brows lift but his smile lifts higher at the corners.
“Don’t tell me you don’t remember.”
“No, I do, but I’m just wondering if you’re asking because you’re jealous or…” He lets the sentence linger, like he’s making room for whatever other scenario might be at play.
