“Why did you say that?” I hiss.
She grins. “You want a date, don’t you? Watch—he’ll wave, I’m sure of it.”
We stare as Marcus glides toward his friends—a group of total baddies—gloved hand pointing over his shoulder toward us as he calls something out.
The group of them turn.
My heart does this stupid little jump when I feel Easton’s gaze land on me.
Our eyes connect. “Wait for it…” Macy whispers.
For a second, he stands in the center of the ice, helmet tucked under his arm, dark hair tousled and damp. His gaze is unreadable, face perfectly blank.
And then—
He turns away.
I blink.
Blink again, taken aback.
No nod? No smirk? Not even a stupid eye roll to acknowledge that he’s seen me? Nothing?
He says something to Gabe, who laughs and punches his arm before skating off. Easton follows at a leisurely pace.
Embarrassment creeps up my neck, burning my cheeks.
Macy, registering my reaction, chews her lip. “Okay, that doesn’t mean anything. He’s probably in focus mode.” A second later, her gaze travels back to Marcus. “God, he’s hot.”
I nod robotically, though my mind lingers on Easton. “Right.”
So hot—and apparently so over me.
My chest tightens. I will myselfnotto watch Easton skate away. But of course, I do. His broad shoulders look even broader beneath his practice jersey, his hair sticking out from under his helmet.
Maybe he didn’t see me.
Maybe Macy’s right and he wants to stay in the zone.
Except I’m literally right here. Dead in his line of sight. I would’ve had to be invisible for him not to notice me.I AM WEARING MY SIGNATURE COLOR: PINK!
Macy continues to chatter on and on and on about Marcus’s buff legs: how perfectly sculpted they are, how she wishes she could have half his muscle tone, blah blah blah. I nod and make appropriate noises, but my mind is elsewhere, spiraling.
Grasping.
Why isn’t Easton acknowledging me?!
“…by the locker room afterward.” Macy is saying. “Hey. Are you listening?”
“Huh? Yes—locker room afterward.”
She cocks an eyebrow, clearly not believing for a single second that I was listening to a darn thing she just said.
The team skates forward, then backward, sticks slicing throughthe air in perfect synchronization. Easton looks irritatingly good, even with that intense, focused expression on his face.
Correction:especiallywith the focused expression on his face.
He comes closer, stopping just near the boards…close enough that if I tapped the glass he’d hear it. He flicks his gaze up briefly, scanning the stands. My heart lurches; my breath catches in my throat.
