Me
Thanks.
I don’t look at food or drink. I’m not sure I could keep anything down right now anyway. I’m too nervous.
I spend nearly the entire time Hugo is traveling home debatingon how to proceed with tomorrow. I could just tell him now. As soon as he gets here. It’s easy to prove because I can show him my phone with the texts.
The truth is, I’m far too cowardly to do that. So the next option is the one I’ve been debating this entire time, since before I even agreed to ‘meet.’ I can just cancel. I can disappear and we will never speak of this again.
There are a few reasons I don’t do this. One, because of the phone number thing. He’ll find out eventually and then I’m just going to look like even more of an ass. Two, it could hurt his feelings and knowingIhurt him isnotsomething I’m willing to do. Three, this is a date. A real date. With Hugo Bladen. I’ve wanted a date with Hugo since I first saw him. Since the first time he said hi to me when absolutely everyone else walked by without noticing me there.
I may get that date.
Is there even a possibility this could turn out well? Maybe he’ll just roll with it.
Knowing there’s a very good chance I’ll be spending the night tonight, I packed my date outfit in my car. I don’t know how I’ll make it to the restaurant before him, which is my plan. But I’ll have to figure it out.
Maybe I can claim I need to go to the arena for something and leave early. How am I going to hide my nerves?
Already, this might backfire before it happens.
My heart jumps into my throat when I hear the front door. If I were brave, I’d just blurt it as soon as he walks in. But when the door opens and I’m caught standing there staring like a deer in headlights, Hugo’s smile fills his face. He’s always so happy to see me. It makes my pulse race.
It’s going to destroy me if I lose this.
Chapter Seventeen
HUGO
More than anything,I love coming home to Torin. I get excited as soon as I see him standing there with pink cheeks and eyes wide. My chest gets all warm and tight as my stomach dances wildly.
I drop my gear and close the distance, wrapping my arms around him and hugging him fiercely. We don’t speak for a minute, and his grip on me is just as tight as mine on him. It means a lot that he misses me as much as I miss him when I’m away at games.
“Do you think anyone would notice if I stowed you away in my suitcase?” I ask.
Torin grins. “Yes. But maybe I can be a puck boy or something.”
“Like a puck bunny?”
He turns his face into my neck, and I can feel it heat. “No! Like a ball boy. Someone who gathers errant pucks or something.”
I give him another squeeze and then step away. “Come with me. I have to wash my clothes and my pads.”
“How do you wash your pads?”
“Some pieces I put in the washer on cold with mild detergent. But most of the time I just fill the laundry tub with warm water, detergent and sometimes something like the oxi-stuff, depending on how bad they are. They soak like stew for a half an hour or so and I wipe them down and then let them dry outside.” I shrug. “Nothingexciting.”
“Oh. You do that a lot?”
I shake my head as I haul my bag with me. “Nope. I have several sets just so I don’t have to, but once a month or so I’ll spend half a day and wash them all. It’s like underwear—they’re only good for only a certain number of wearings.”
“One right?” Torin asks, raising a brow. “You wear underwear once before washing them.”
With a wide grin, I face him and put my hands on my hips. “You already know I don’t own a single pair of underwear.”
Torin’s eyes drop to my crotch almost reflexively. His cheeks heat, predictably, and I grin.
“But yes, once. Although with hockey gear, I usually go a week with each set. Sometimes more, sometimes less; depends on what the week holds. It’s worse when I go for like fifteen days of travel games. It doesn’t happen often, but yeah, that gets a little uncomfortable. I usually dump them in one of my hotel tubs with some sensitive skin body wash or something about halfway through the trip. Just to get the first layer of sweat and stench off them.”
