I hesitate, gazing at my reflection in the mirror. Hair a mess, sticking up along my hairline where the mask was. Skin still sticky—but glowing. I in no way resemble the girls from school who go to the rink, looking far too perfect in case a guy glances their way. But how can I convince Macy her plan isn’t going to work without revealing my pact with Easton?
Macy sees my doubt and takes advantage of it, wiggling her eyebrows like a weirdo. “Admit it. He’d be a great date.”
I groan. “Even if Ididthink that, I can’t just show up to the rink and start flirting. I’ll look desperate.”
Macy shrugs. “So? Desperate times, babe.”
True. I am desperate for the promposal—but I am not desperate for a date. Not anymore.
Not since I found him in my backyard.
Giving up, I stand, grabbing a hoodie my grandmother gave me for my birthday from the closet. It’s pink (obviously), embroidered on the back with an inspirational quote and flowers.
Next I pull on leggings, assuring myself as I begin braiding my hair that this is going to be fine.
I amjustgoing to the rink toobserve.I don’t even need to talk to Easton. Macy will be distracted by Marcus and forget about the whole promposal idea, and everything will be all right.
Strictly reconnaissance.
“You look like you’re running errands with your mom,” Macy informs me rudely.
I turn to glare at her. “Ihateyou.”
She grins. “Love you too, babe. Now get your ass moving—meet me in front of the rink in twenty.”
—
Macy is already lingering in the parking lot when I arrive, bundled up in a stylish cropped jacket that somehow makes her look effortlessly cool while I look as if I got dressed in three seconds. Which I did.
She taps on my window the second I park. “Let’sgo.”
I take a deep breath before stepping out into the cold air. “I changed my mind. This is dumb.”
Immediately no. Why did I let Macy force me into this? Easton is going to think I’m stalking him, on top of the deal I forced himinto.
Macy loops her arm through mine, dragging me toward the entrance. “Too late. You’re committed.”
The second we walk inside, the frigid air hits me at the same time the sound of blades on ice echoes through the arena. A fewgirls—mostly underclassmen I don’t recognize—are already lingering by the plexiglass, pretending to be deeply interested in their phones but definitely not-so-subtly watching the guys practice.
I swallow hard.
Strictly.Reconnaissance.
“Come on,” Macy urges. “I want Marcus to see me.”
I groan, dragging my feet.
And then—there he is.
Easton.
He’s in full gear, skating backward with ease, laughing. His helmet is tilted up just enough for me to see the sharp angle of his jaw, the stray pieces of dark hair curling at his forehead.
Dang, he’s so freaking cute.
Macy nudges me. “You’re staring.”
I snap out of it, forcing myself to look away. “Iwasn’tstaring.”
