“It is a bad thing,” I counter weakly, though I can’t stop the smile creeping across my face. “Coach’ll kill us if we miss practice next.”
“Practice isn’t for hours, and can we really be considered late when it’s just the two of us?” he says, tracing idle lines across my stomach. “And I can think of about ten better uses of our time until then.”
“Oh yeah?”
He leans down, lips brushing my jaw. “Starting with not getting out of bed.”
I laugh, low and quiet. “You’re incorrigible.”
He grins against my skin. “Big word for someone who’s about to skip another class.”
I roll my eyes, but my hand finds the back of his neck anyway, pulling him in for another kiss. “Fine. But if Coach asks, I’m blaming you.”
He kisses me again, deeper this time, and mumbles against my mouth, “That’s fair. You can blame me for everything.”
By the next afternoon,everything feels lighter.
Practice was good—stupidly good—the kind where every time Logan’s stick touched the puck, mine wasn’t far behind. Coach didn’t say anything, but there was a twitch of a smilewhen he looked our way, the kind he gets when the team is finally clicking again.
Most of the guys clear out fast, voices echoing down the tunnel. I’m still sitting on the bench, peeling tape from my stick in lazy strips, when footsteps head straight toward me.
Logan. Hair damp from his shower, backpack slung over his shoulder, and a smile soft enough to knock the wind out of me.
He stops right in front of me and nudges my foot with his. “I’m heading to class,” he says, like it’s required information, like Ineedto know where he’ll be for the next two hours.
I grin up at him. “You’re actually going?”
He rolls his eyes and drops down beside me on the bench. “Yes, I’m actually going. Some of us can’t skip everything this week.”
I smirk. “You sure you don’t want to blow it off? I could… persuade you.”
His breath catches just enough that I notice. Then he leans in and kisses me—slow and lingering. And I don’t care that some of the guys are still in the locker room or that anyone could see us. Because I’ve made up my mind, this is what I want, and the rest will fall into place.
“You’re dangerous,” he breathes as he pulls back. “You make me forget everything else.”
“I try.”
“You succeed,” he says dryly. “Too well.”
I slide my hand up his thigh, teasing. “We could go back to your place right now…”
He shoves my shoulder lightly, laughing. “Todd, I’m trying to keep my scholarship.”
“You can study after.”
“That’s what we said yesterday,” he says, kissing the corner of my mouth, “and we both know how that turned out.”
I grin. “Still worth it.”
He stands, tugging me up with him before I can protest, his hands staying hooked in my hoodie strings like he’s not ready to let go. “I’ll see you in two hours,” he says. “Try not to get into trouble.”
“No promises.”
He kisses me again—quick this time, like he’s afraid if he lingers we’ll never leave this locker room—and finally steps back.
“If you’re not at my apartment when I get back,” he warns, pointing at me as he backs toward the exit, “I’ll find you and drag your ass there myself.”
I lift my brows. “Is that supposed to be a threat?”
