“I mean, I figured you bailed after the club last night to get some finally, butdamn, Shaw. That’s a whole new glow.”
“I don’t glow,” I mutter.
Daniel snorts—and then his gaze drops. Right to my neck.
Shit.
“Is that ahickey?” he crows, grabbing my arm and turning me slightly. “Oh my god, it is. What the hell, man? Who is she?”
I slap his hand away. “None of your business.”
He grins like he just solved a murder. “So it’s not a she.”
I freeze.
He doesn’t.
Daniel just keeps walking like he didn’t just throw a grenade into my carefully guarded little secret life.
And now my heart is jackhammering in my chest again, but not for a good reason this time. Because I don’t want to lie. Not anymore. But I also don’t want to blow this up before Logan and I even figure out what the hell weare.
“Seriously, though,” Daniel says, slinging his arm across my shoulders, “you gonna tell me who’s got you all moon-eyed, or am I gonna have to start guessing?”
I shake my head, trying to will the heat out of my face. “Drop it, Dan.”
He holds up both hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll back off.”
He gives me a sideways glance, smirking.
“For now.”
By the time we’re halfway to the building, I think Daniel might actually let it drop. Which is wishful thinking, obviously. Because I spotthemcoming around the corner before he even says it.
“Here we go,” he mutters under his breath like a man preparing for war.
Luke spots us immediately, his black-painted nails glinting as he waves, a red flannel wrapped around his waist and a pair of black skinny jeans clinging to his legs like a second skin. His eyeliner today is navy blue with silver shimmer—and somehow matches the streak of color in his hair.
Ty and Will follow behind him, both in football hoodies, both looking like walking protein shakes.
“Well, well,well,” Luke sing-songs as he closes the distance. “If it isn’t my two of my favorite hockey heathens.”
“Morning, Luke,” Daniel grins. “You’re looking very…sparkly.”
“It’s called havingstyle,Daniel. You wouldn’t know anything about it.” Luke flashes him a grin before his eyes snap straight to me. “But you.”
“Me?” I ask warily.
He circles me like a hawk, one painted nail tapping against his chin.
“Something’s different,” he says. “You’re walking like you just got railed by God himself.”
Ty chokes on a laugh.
Will snorts. “Luke, Jesus.”
“What?” Luke shrugs. “It’s true. Look at him. Hair all damp and curling at his neck. Hoodie wrinkled like it was on someone's floor all night. That’s not a man who made it back to his dorm before sunrise.”
“Idid,” I say quickly.
