I’ve graduated, the season is over, and two of us are together in New York City.
“You should wear purple more often,” he muses, running a hand over the open back of my dress, sending tingles down to my toes.
“It’s lilac,” I correct.
“Whatever.” He chuckles.
In the mirrors, I check out the soft material that drapes elegantly down my body and hits mid-thigh. Even with my three-inch heels, Luke still towers next to me. We look good together. Like we belong.
The elevator stops, and as soon as the doors open, all the relaxation I tried to coax into him on the ride up disappears. His shoulders hike as he places a hand at my back and guides me into the party. The elevator spills right out into the open area, and my breath catches at the view.
Windows entirely encompass the room, giving a 360-degree view of the city. The sun is beginning to set, bathing the room in dreamy, golden lighting, and soft music from a singer with a guitar floats through the room.
It’s a large enough space that even with the amount of people here, it doesn’t seem crowded. The room is decorated in shades of white and cream, with gold accents. A few heads turn our wayas we walk forward, and Luke immediately steers us toward the bar.
“You don’t want to find your friend first?” I ask.
He keeps us on course as he answers, “Drink first. Socializing second.”
“Are you actually going to drink with me?” I tease, thinking back to how that was one rule he didn’t want to break on New Year’s Eve with me.
We sidle up to the bar, and Luke ignores the specialty cocktail menu. “Whiskey neat, and a glass of pinot grigio.”
I elbow him. “How do you know that?”
“Because you had three bottles of it in your trashcan after your wine night with Grace.”
“Didn’t know you were going to dig through my trash,” I mutter and accept the glass the bartender slides over. Luke takes a deep gulp of his as he turns and eyes up the room.
I follow his eyeline and immediately recognize quite a few of the faces here. Any hockey fan would. Suddenly my nerves for Luke transfer into nerves for myself. How the hell did I end up here, mingling at a party with professional athletes that I watch on TV? My skin grows tight, and I shift in my heels.
Luke lands a comforting hand on my waist. “Ready to make the rounds?”
I spot a group of three guys beelining our direction and tell him, “Ready or not, looks like you got company coming your way right now.”
Luke tenses, but the moment the first guy pulls him in for a hug when he reaches us, he begins to relax little by little. The guys are ecstatic to see him, and when Luke introduces me, they all greet me with the same amount of enthusiasm. They all spend a good amount of time catching up before Luke excuses us to go see some of his other former teammates.
He takes me around the room, his hand never leaving mine. Each new face we approach lights up when they spot Luke. And slowly, the apprehension he held within his shoulders melts away with each and every kind greeting.
On the plane here, he told me he was scared of how his old teammates would react to seeing him after he cut them all out and never looked back. And his fear of being replaced so easily that he thought he got over was once again starting to weigh him down.
But I watch that all fade away. Each one of them greets him with a huge smile and one of those bro-hugs that is more back slapping than anything else. I pretend like I don’t already know most of their names when introductions are made and preen a little bit each time Luke calls me his girlfriend.
Out loud.
To other people.
And no one bats an eye at it. Obviously, no one knows how we met, but at this point, it doesn’t matter. Despite Luke disobeying Coach Maver’s request to stay away from the game, she gave him absolute hell about the show the two of us put on in the parking lot after, but she kept her word and didn’t open an investigation.
There was some slight pressure from a few concerned parents who were there, and word quickly spread around campus, but titles and money can go a long way. And Haulton got their first ever Frozen Four title in school history. Plus Luke had brought in some hefty donors earlier in the year.
With my graduating and Luke turning in his resignation, the dean and Coach Maver agreed to shut things down as quickly, and quietly, as possible. But there’s still a knot in my stomach when I think about the way Coach looked at me the last time I saw her. I’m not sorry that I fell in love with Luke, but I am sorry about the fact that it ruined my relationship with Coach.
“There’s the man of the hour,” one of the guys calls out as a couple approaches our circle. By her white dress and his matching white jacket, I’d say this is Decker and Tasha.
“Woman of the hour,” Decker corrects, and Tasha gives him a knowing smile. It earns a chuckle out of the group, and Luke immediately steps forward, extending his hand.
“Congrats, man,” he says, and Decker brushes away the handshake, going in for a hug instead.
