“Thought I’d see how long it took for you to ask,” he teases, pulling away, and a sigh of disappointment sounds from me.
“That wasn’t a kiss.”
Jack’s chest shakes with silent laughter underneath my hand before pressing his lips against mine in a manner so different from before, the only thing I can do is hold him close and hope he doesn’t let me fall flat on my ass.
Our lips move in tandem, and I wrap my arm around his neck, holding Jack close as he deepens the kiss, understanding exactly how I wanted him to kiss me before.
Jack tugs at the end of my hair, tilting my head further as he kisses his way down my jaw, finding the same spot he left a mark on earlier in the week. “No more hickeys. You left one after our tutoring session,” I say, trying to focus on my words.
His lips capture mine again for a fleeting moment before pulling away. “Sorry.”
“You don’t look very sorry.” And Jack doesn’t. Not a single bit, from what I can tell based on the smug expression forming.
“Because I’m not. What about hickeys where people can’t see?” Jack teases, twirling a curl around his finger before tucking it behind my ear.
I choke on my laugh. “I think it’s time for me to leave before you start something we don’t have time to finish.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Last time I checked, you were the one practically begging me to kiss you.”
“Was not!” I protest, skating toward the exit. “I asked if you were going to.”
“Same thing,” he says, chuckling, and I stick my tongue out at him.
“Whatever.” I grab my hard guards from the boards to put them on before walking off the ice to sit on the bleachers and setting my phone next to me so I can take off my skates. “Did you sharpen my skates again?” I ask, and Jack steps off the ice.
“Yeah, I had to drop mine off with Frank yesterday, so I snagged yours as well.”
“Thanks, you didn’t have to,” I say, but Jack’s saving me the time and money by having them done here instead of the small shop in town I’d have to take them to.
“It’s not a big deal, Al. Sharp blades are safer to skate on,” he says, stuffing his hands into his pockets again, and I roll my eyes.
“Just say you’re welcome?”
He’s too nice for his own good. “You’re welcome. Are you going to come over later? I think everyone is planning to go to Twin City.”
I slip into my winter coat, tugging my hat on my head. “Yeah, I think so. We’re still on for tutoring, right?” I ask, feeling my cheeks heat at the reminder of our last session where we got no studying done. Maybe I can figure out some sort of reward system to entice Jack to study before play.
“Could we study this afternoon? Cause I was kind of thinking we could go with them. Sara and Ellie will be there, so I thought you could invite Macy if you want. It won’t be for long, but it might be fun,” he suggests, taking a seat on the bench next to me. And it does sound fun, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to resist keeping my hands to myself if I get a little alcohol in me.
“Depends on how much actual studying we get done,” I say, getting up, leaning down to peck Jack’s lips, simply because I want to. “See ya later, pretty boy.” I wink playfully at him, turning away just as I feel a slap on my ass. I glare at Jack over my shoulder, while he bats his eyes at me, feigning innocence.
“I didn’t do anything.”
Right, so a ghost totally just slapped my ass? “Whatever you say.”
“I’m more of a boob guy than an ass guy,” he says with a grin, and this I do know. He’s not been very sneaky about looking for a while, and before the other night, I would’ve said I was imagining it.
My smile is wide as I readjust my hat to cover more of my forehead from the biting cold waiting for me outside, but as I step through the doors, I’m stopped right in my tracks, coming face to face with Jack’s coach, and my father.
Oh shit.
He blinks, and my smile drops in an instant. I’m probably staring at him the same way he’s staring at me, especially after how I doubled down during Thanksgiving to insist I was done skating when he broached the topic again.
“Alondra? What are you doing here?”
I panic, running all the possible scenarios through my head to explain, but I don’t think saying,Oh, I’m hooking up with one of your players, who’s now a really good friend of mine, and we skate here a couple times a week?is going to work. “I, um . . .”
Jack picks the perfect fucking moment to open the doors behind me. “Al, wait! You forgot your . . . phone,” he trails off, barely finishing his sentence. “Hey, Coach. Uh, Al—your daughter—was here, um, giving me my notes for class, and must’ve just set her phone down.”
