She is here!
Yom skidded to a dead stop. His first instinct was to look over both shoulders to make sure she hadn’t set up a honey trap for another abusive dog breeder.
But no, she continued toward him, gingerly plucking her way across the ice in her yellow coat before she came to a stop in front of him.
“Hi.”
“What are you doing here?” Once again, the question came out harsher than intended. As his questions often did with her.
Not for the first time since handing Lydia the Anything List, Yom wished he’d bothered to learn social graces.
“Oh, I...” She looked to both sides while fretting her lip. “Um, I’ve noticed you never invite me—or any of your friends and family—to these things. But Trish was telling me it was your last game of the year—of a perfect season. And I was just feeling so proud of you, I couldn’t help myself. So... here I am.”
Yom stared down at her, his breathing becoming rapid even though gameplay was over.
And Lydia visibly cringed. “I hope that’s o?—”
That was as far as she got before Yom threw down his hockey stick, grabbed her around the waist, and crashed his lips down on hers.
No, it wasn’t in the new plan. He knew this could change everything—knew it could ruin what he’d been carefully building toward with her. But in that moment, none of it mattered.
As Pavel had been proposing for nearly the entire month of February,Fuck the plan.
Yom could no longer hold himself back from claiming the sweet mouth of his Library Girl.
“Mmmm!” Lydia made the cutest little shocked sound before she bunched her fingers into the front of his uniform and let herself go pliant in his arms. The way she melted against him—it undid something deep inside, loosening the knot that had been in his chest ever since he found out she’d re-gifted his Valentine’s Day bear.
They kissed.
And kissed.
And kissed some more—until Coach yelled, “C’mon Rustanov, that’s enough. Stop mauling your girlfriend and get over here for the team photo.”
Even then, Yom didn’t want to let her go.
Lydia had to pull away from him and say, “That sounds important. You should get over there, and I should go.”
“You do not have to go. I will make sure this does not take long.”
“No, actually, I do have to—oh, wow, okay, bye!” She laughed when two other Yolks grabbed Yom around both arms and drag-skated him away—most likely at their coach’s behest.
The picture did get taken, but while everyone else smiled, Yom gave the camera his stoniest face.
By the time the photographer had finished capturing the moment for a too-long twenty minutes from several different angles, Lydia was gone.
Yom rushed back to the locker room as soon as the burdensome task was done. He skipped his usual post-game shower and ignored his teammates’ demands that he at least come celebratewith them at the off-campus bar they usually went to save for the two times Yom had volunteered his house.
They probably figured if Yom would break down and party with them one night, it would be this one.
Pumped up on their own adrenaline, they could not sense that Yom’s heart was racing for an entirely different reason.
Without bothering to answer them, he dressed and sped back to his house.
Throwing the truck in park, he raced up the stairs to Lydia’s bedroom. Only to stop short. He’d gotten used to coming home to the sight of the soft light from her room spilling into the dark hallway.
He had only knocked on her door once, though. On what turned out to be Valentine’s Day. It had been almost two weeks, but the memory of forgetting this most important American relationship holiday still made his stomach twist with guilt.
This time, he did not pound on her door but gave it a light knock. “Lydia, it is me, Yom.”
