CHAPTER 4
CALEB
I can’t stop replayingyesterday. I realize this makes me pathetic. Hell, all of my behavior yesterday makes me pathetic. Which almost certainly means yesterday is the last I’m going to see of Dash.
Dash Dalton, hockey illiterate, kind to dorks, and general dreamboat.
Also, almost certainly queer unless my gaydar is off. Which… I mean, it’s not like I’ve had tons of practice. But here’s the thing. If my gaydarisn’toff, and okay, sure, his roommate is team captain, so maybe that’s it, but… Did he come back forme?
Because he did come back. And sit with me. And talk to me. And stay the entire practice with me.
My heart starts doing this tutter, shaky thing that is probably fine since I’m nineteen and healthy, but might otherwise cause me to panic.
Oh my God, what is wrong with me?
And now here I am at practice again. And as if that weren’t weird enough, I’m early, here before the team has even made it onto the ice. And yes, okay, fine. I was probably going to come to watch the actual practice anyway. Which would all be well andgood if I didn’t have my eyes glued to the entrance where Dash appeared the last two times.
“Oh God.” I bury my head in my hands and let out a groan.
“Oh, come on, it can’t be that bad.I’mhere.” The voice booms up at me, deep, friendly, a little amused. Dash.
I raise my head to see him climbing the stairs toward me.
I am instantly nauseous, and I honestly can’t tell if it’s because I’ve just embarrassed myself again or because I am so happy he’s here. It’s probably both.
“Hi,” I say as he slides into a seat, just one over from mine. Because I’m slick like that.
“What’s a nice guy like you doing in a freezing cold arena like this?” He grins. Because heisslick like that. I swear to God, his eyes actually twinkle.
And I’m blushing now, and again: Mortified? Crushing? Both.
Coach blows his whistle below, and the team glides onto the ice. Thank God.
Beside me, Dash says, “So, ready to enlighten the ignorant?”
“Uh, yeah.” I give a weak laugh. I make the mistake of looking over at him. He’s smiling at me all open and friendly and... Jesus, I don’t know if my heart can take this kind of attention. Down below, the team is starting warm-up laps. “I’ll try my best.”
We watch the guys skate in silence for a minute. Well, silence for him. For me, there’s kind of a roaring in my ears. But the graceful movements of the athletes start to lull me back to something resembling normal.
“You know,” says Dash, in a softer voice now, “you don’t really have to teach me about all this. If you don’t want to.”
I look up at him, and he gives me a quiet little smile. And, hang on. He doesn’t mind if I don’t teach him about hockey? Because if he’s not here for that, then…
I feel warm all over. But, like, in a good way.
I turn back to the ice, biting back my own smile. “No, I can. I’m happy to. What do you want to know?”
“Um. Everything? Let me put it this way, I knowsolittle, I don’t know what I don’t know.”
When I glance over at him, he looks a little sheepish. Which is... Yeah. Very cute.
“Sorry,” he continues, “I’m kind of hopeless. I’m a theater major, so I know zero about sports. Plus, no offense, but I don’t totally get the hockey appeal. I mean, it’s not like they wear tight uniforms, you know, like those little pants the football players wear.”
He arches a brow and holds my gaze. My gaydar starts beeping so loud I’m surprised he can’t hear it. Well, that answers that question.
Right. Questions. Converse like a normal person, Caleb.
I clear my throat. “Theater, huh? What, like acting?”
