“What kind of good things?” He’s not going to let it go.
“How we’re going to expect better for each other? I want to know how that looks for both of us, and how it will work together.”
“That is a big conversation.”
I set him down to get my key. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“Then we’ll figure it out together.”
FORTY-EIGHT
ARCHANGEL
We don’t get a moment to breathe. We do interviews after team brunch the next morning. Thankfully, the team publicist kept the questions strictly about hockey because, since our win, more publications have picked up the story about Wolfe and me, and we haven’t had a chance to talk about what we’re going to say.
We’re picked up in limos from the airport and driven back to our rink to a massive school party. The campus resembles a rave. There are people packed into the streets, full on drinking and partying, and it’s barely 9pm.
The next two weeks are basically school, sleep, and event after event. Among the whirlwind tour, we get a key to the city and meet the mayor, are put on a cereal box, and get recognized by New York’s pro hockey team, the Dragons. I’m not sure I’m fully processing it as it happens, and that will come.
And in spite of it all, the best part of my week is waking up next to my best friend. I see our future in little glimpses, and more than ever before, I need this to work, and I’m starting to believe it might.
“I see you watching me,” Wolfe says without opening his eyes.
“How?” I reach out to skim my fingers over his shoulder.
He stretches out a massive arm and drags me into his chest. “Goalie eyes.”
“That’s made up. I was watching you, and I didn’t see you open them.”
He presses his lips to my forehead. “You know, today is the first day in weeks we don’t have anything to do.”
“I know.” I’ve been looking forward to it for days.
“And nothing better fuck it up.” He pushes his knee between mine.
“I’m turning off both our phones and locking the doors.”
“We need a no trespassing sign.” He pulls back enough to look at me.
“I don’t think that will do it.”
“Are we going to finally talk?” He takes a strand of my hair and tucks it behind my ear.
“I think we should, but this also better involve lots of sex.”
“Are you saying you’re tired of quickies?” He brushes his lips over mine.
I give over to his mouth. “Not tired of them. I love a good quickie, but I want more.”
“I want more too. I haven’t had time to show you how much I love your body.”
“I’m hoping that means a blow job.”
“I can’t believe you’re pressuring me to give you a blow job before marriage.”
I shove him, but he wraps his arms tighter around me. “I’m taking it personally.”
