“Janine,” she says, offering her hand like she’s expecting me to kiss it.
I take it, letting my thumb graze her knuckles for a second longer than necessary before I release it. “Logan.”
“I know,” she teases, glancing toward the living room where a couple of guys are playing beer pong in team hoodies. “The team talks about you.”
My grin widens. Oh, that’s rich. I resist the urge to glance back at Todd again because I can feel him over there, simmering in that quiet, coiled way of his.
“Well, Janine,” I murmur, leaning one elbow on the counter next, “I’m glad you came tonight. Pretty sure you just made this party more interesting.”
She giggles and takes a sip of her drink, eyes glinting with that flirty challenge. “Then come dance with me, hockey boy.”
The music pulses through the living room, bass vibrating under my sneakers. Janine pulls me onto the makeshift dance floor—a patch of rug between the couchand coffee table where a handful of couples sway and grind to the beat.
She’s already moving, hips rolling to the rhythm, hands sliding up my chest like we’ve done this a hundred times. I settle my hands at her waist, just enough to keep up appearances, and let her lead the dance.
But my eyes drift.
Across the room, Todd leans against the wall, half in shadow, a bottle dangling from his hand. He’s pretending to be focused on the game of beer pong happening a few feet away, but his gaze keeps flicking over. Every time our eyes almost meet, he jerks his away, jaw tight.
Janine loops her arms around my neck and rises on her toes. “You dance better than I thought you would,” she says, breath warm against my ear.
I chuckle low, keeping the sound casual. “Guess you’ll have to keep testing me.”
Then, without a bit of hesitation, she kisses me.
It’s quick and eager, her lips soft, the faint taste of cheap liquor lingering. My hands tighten instinctively on her hips, but I don’t kiss her back—not at first. My gaze slides past her, locking on Todd across the room.
He’s frozen. Not moving. His knuckles are white around that bottle.
That’s when I let myself respond, angling my mouth against hers, letting the kiss deepen just enough to sell it. But it’s all surface—mechanical. My pulse isn’t racing for her.
It’s for the boy glaring like he wants to break something.
When she pulls back with a flirty laugh, I offer a slow grin, but my eyes flick past her to Todd again.
And that’s the hit I was looking for. That look in his eyes that says he just might step out of the closet.
Janine’s fingers toy with the collar of my shirt, but my attention keeps slipping past her to the wall where Todd’s posted up like he’s part of the architecture.
He hasn’t moved, hasn’t taken another sip. He’s just watching.
The thrill that had me kissing Janine in the first place fades fast. My grin softens, and I take a small step back, letting her hands fall from my collar.
“Hey,” I say lightly, pretending to scan the room. “I should go check in with my buddy before he loses our reputation at pong. Rain check?”
She pouts playfully, but she’s not bothered. “Don’t wait too long. I’m a popular dance partner.”
“Noted,” I say, flashing her a wink as I slip away.
I weave through the bodies, the bass from the speakers pounding in my ribs, until I reach the pong table, near Todd, where Daniel is lining up a shot with a red cup in hand. He glances up, grinning wide.
“Brooks! Perfect timing. I need backup—these guys are killing me.”
I clap him on the shoulder, putting on my easygoing party face. “Can’t have that. Team pride’s on the line.”
But even as I step into the circle, grab a ball, and pretend to focus on the cups, I feel that burn on the side of my face.
Todd’s eyes.
