We walk through the parking lot. “Speaking of pucks, hockey books are still storming around Booktok.”
“I have a few if you want to borrow,” he says, opening the door for me.
“You do not,” I scoff.
“I wish I were joking.”
“My followers would love to know that my hockey player friend has a hockey romance stash.”
We walk to the treadmills to walk a mile. “Don’t tell my secrets to the world, Ce.”
I cross my heart. “It’s safe with me, puck boy.”
We hop on the treadmills, silence falling between us. He scrolls through his phone while I stare straight ahead, zoning outabout everything I have going on. I have a project due soon, a paper, and my list of work negotiations is ongoing.
Dylan slides his phone onto my treadmill five minutes in.
“What’s this?”
“Read it.”
I grab his phone and read a couple of sentences. I cover my mouth, hiding my embarrassment.
“You read smut?” I gasp.
He laughs. “Gotta get action somewhere.”
“No, Dylan,” I chuckle. “No way. Wait. Let me reread it.”
I grab his phone back and read the rest of the scene. It’s hot. Filthy. Dirty.
I smile, handing it back. “You keep that locked and loaded?”
“No,” he laughs. “Look.”
He shows me how he searched the wordpussyin the search bar, and he clicks on the most obvious sex scenes later in the book.
“You little smut,” I scoff, turning my treadmill higher.
“And you’re my little moo.”
My brows furrow as I start running. The pace is too slow, so I break into a sprint.
“Yeah?” he says competitively.
Now we’re sprinting side by side. The truth is that the sex scene I read was hot, and I need to cool off.
He turns off his machine and steps aside. Out of breath. “Okay, Coach. What’re we doing today?”
“It’s our rest day, so we shouldn’t be here, but…”
“But we’re here. Need to relieve some stress?”
“Yeah, spot me. I’m going to do the three exercises that kick my ass and go. What about you?”
He flexes his arms. “I could use a pump in my arms.”
We high-five. “Let’s get it, smut.”
