“Oh my God, what happened? Practice just started,” she says.
Her pretty lips part as she approaches me. She’s already a tiny little thing, but when I’m wearing my skates, I tower over her.
“The new goalie and I got into it,” I tell her.
“Come on, I’ll clean you up.”
I decide then that I will milk this injury for all that it’s worth. She leads me down the hall, her boots clicking against the floor as we get to the locker room. She grabs the first aid kit and points for me to sit on the bench.
When I sit, she’s eye to eye with me.
Her dark green eyes remind me of a dewy forest as she looks back at me. Her scent isn’t as thick as it usually is, and she must notice that I’m trying to scent her.
“I’m wearing deodorizers,” she blurts out as she grabs some gauze and starts blotting my nose.
“I wasn’t?—”
“You weren’t what? Trying to scent me, Bram?”
She smirks at me, knowing that I’m completely caught.
“You didn’t wear them last year,” I mention, realizing after the fact I probably sound like a creep who was constantly trying to get a whiff of her—which I was—but she doesn’t need to know that.
“It was part of the deal, my father allowing me to come back and work this year. I think after last year with Owen getting drugged and a few years prior to that with Charlotte, he’s worried about my safety.”
“You have the whole team looking out for you,” I tell her, meaning it truly.
Not only do the new guys fear Coach Applegate, but the more tenured players respect him and have a soft spot for Sloane.
“It doesn’t matter. In the end, I got my way,” she says with a shrug, still cleaning my nose.
“I imagine that happens a lot.”
“What makes you say that?” She smirks, knowing she already has me hook, line, and sinker.
“Because if you’d ask me to jump right now, I’d ask how high.”
“Because I’m the coach's daughter?” she asks.
“No, because you’re you,” I reply easily, and she pulls her hand away from my face to search my eyes, before going back to her work and grabbing Neosporin and a Band-Aid.
We’ve flirted every time we’re in the same room, but this feels significant, different in a way I’m not sure how to explain. Could she actually want to take this beyond simple workplace flirting to something more? It’s something I've fantasized about but didn’t know it was actually possible.
“I’m a very modern Omega, but there are some things I just can’t bring myself to do, one of which is making the first move. So if you’ve been looking for the right opportunity, now's the time.”
I blink at her as she finishes up with my nose and looks at me.
“Go on a date with me.”
“Is that a demand or a question?”
I smile. She’s going to be the death of me, and I’ll happily walk myself into my grave. “Sloane, I’d love to take you on a date if you’d be interested.”
She smiles. “I’d love to.”
“Sunday?”
“I’m free Sunday. Do you also want to ask for my number?” she suggests, and I nod my head.
