Who knows.
All I know is that I want her undivided attention.
I want her here for a reason, though I haven’t completely figured out what that reason is. Maybe it’s because when she looks atme, I feel a buzz under my skin that has my body running a little hotter despite the cold. Is she noticing the way my shoulders flex when I turn? Has she noticed the way my thighs burn with each deep push?
I steal a glance as I skate past—fast enough that she won’t catch me looking. She’s chatting with Macy, but her gaze flicks toward me for the briefest second. There it is again, that stupid heat low in my stomach, curling into my chest, making my heart pump harder than the skating does.
This isn’t normal.
She’s just a girl. Her locker has been next to mine forever.
She’s my friend.
I glide over, abruptly stopping so ice sprays in their direction. The flurry hits the plexiglass in a satisfying burst of white mist and ice chunks.
Harper flinches at the surprise, taking a step back, eyes narrowing suspiciously as a rueful grin tugs at her lips.
“Really?” I see her mouth, her hands rising into the air to punctuate her mock displeasure.
I shrug innocently as I skate back into position. She might look unmoved, but I catch the way her eyes follow me, lingering appreciatively as I peacock around like a dipshit.
She’s into it.
I can tell.
Grabbing a puck from the pile at center ice, I start handling it, showing off with a toe drag and a spin.Ta-da!
Look at me!
The puck sticks to my blade like glue as I weave through an invisible force field of defense. Quick left, quick right, back to the left, quick right.
Gotta be quick—gotta be quick to catch me.
Obviously, when I glance up, Harper is riveted, as if I’m the most fascinating thing she’s ever seen, and swiftly—as I’ve done hundreds of times before—I take my shot, aiming glove side, high. The puck sails cleanly into the net with athunk.
He shoots, he scores!The crowd goes wild!
My arms are above my head when I turn back toward the girls, coasting toward Harper’s side of the rink with my hands and stick held high above my head like I’ve just won the Stanley Cup. My skates cut smoothly across the ice, and I can’t help the satisfied grin stretching across my face.
“What’d you think of that?” I call out, my breath leaving my lips in a puff of fog as I come to a full stop in front of her. “Pretty good, eh?”
She tilts her head, raising an eyebrow. “You had no one defending the goal.”
“That’s not the point,” I counter, tapping my stick against the boards for emphasis. “The point is mysweetskills.”
“Fine.” She drags the word out reluctantly. “You’re pretty good—show-off.”
I press a hand to my chest like she’s wounded me, skating backward past her and Macy, who continues actively ignoring me.
“You think this is me showing off?”
“What else are we calling it?” Harper teases, leaning a little farther over the wall, tempting me to skate over and kiss her.Why did I just think that?
“Effortless talent.” I wink.
Macy’s dramatic groan carries as she taps away at her phone without looking up. “Please don’t feed his ego. It’s already out ofcontrol.”
Out of control? Me? Considering how fucking talented I am, I’m the most modest dude I know, and that’s the truth.
