“Oh . . . my . . . gawd!” Benji whispered so only I could hear. “They’rebothstarstruck. They’re mutually starstruck. This is—I can’t—”
Mark whistled low. “Those are Lightning players. In our bar.Holy shit.”
My brain was still trying to catch up. “What?”
“Lightning players. Actual Tampa Bay Lightning players.” Mark was staring, his eyes wide. “The tall blond one? That’s Erik Lindqvist. He’s Swedish, plays defense. The Asian guy is Tyler Chen—he’s one of their top scorers this season. And the one who’s currently having a mutual fanboy moment with Jacks?” Mark’s grin widened. “Skyler Shaw. Center, team captain. One of the best players in the league. He’s a fuckin’ stud.”
“And apparently a huge Florida State football fan,” Benji added, his grin enormous.
The tall one—Lindqvist—stepped forward with an amused smile. “Sorry, Skyler is having a moment. We’ve been listening to him talk about Jackson Armstrong for years. He has your jersey framed in his apartment.”
“Erik!” Skyler’s face went even redder.
“What? You do. The number 52 jersey. It’s hanging in your living room.”
Jacks looked like he might pass out. “You have my college jersey? People do that?”
“I mean—yeah. I do. That’s—” Skyler ran a hand through his hair. “That’s probably weird to hear. Sorry. I’m being weird.”
“No!” Jacks said. “No, it’s not weird. It’s—I mean—you’retheSkyler Shaw. You can haveanything in your bedroom you want. Shit. I didn’t mean it like that, although you probably could. Still, I just meant . . . fuck . . . I don’t know what I meant. Please ignore me.”
I had to elbow Benji to stop his laughing.
The guys were staring at each other again, and this time even Tyler Chen was grinning.
Tyler stepped forward and leaned against the bar. “Skyler, you want to introduce us, or are you going to keep staring like a fucking creeper?”
“Right. Yes. Sorry.” Skyler seemed to shake himself. “These are my teammates—Erik and Tyler. Guys, this is Jackson Armstrong. He played—”
“Oh, we know,” Tyler said. “We’ve seen your posters.”
“I don’t have posters!”
“Just Jacks,” Jacks said quickly. “Everyone calls me Jacks now.”
“Jacks,” Skyler repeated, like he was testing how it sounded. “I like that.”
Benji’s head was still swiveling. I elbowed him again. He grabbed my arm and squeezed it so hard it hurt.
“Are you seeing this?” Benji hissed. “They’rebothdoing the thing, the mutual attraction googly-eyes thing you and Chase were doing earliertoday. The ‘I can’t believe you’re real’ thing. This is—Finn, this is—”
“I see it,” I muttered back.
Erik cleared his throat and addressed me directly, apparently deciding someone needed to be professional. “Hi. Sorry about the fanboy moment happening here. I’m Erik, this is Tyler, and that’s Skyler when he remembers how words work.” His Swedish accent made everything sound a little more charming. “We’ve been hearing about Barbacks, how you guys turned into Lightning Central in Ybor. We thought we’d check it out for ourselves, say thanksfor all the support.”
I found my voice. “You’ve heard aboutus?”
“Everyone’s heard about you,” Tyler said, pulling out his phone. “Half the team follows your Instagram. Your videos are hilarious. That kiss was epic, ya know, for dudes, a realHorny Rivalsmoment.”
Benji finally spoke. “You’ve seen my videos?”
“The whole team has,” Skyler said, though his eyes kept drifting back to Jacks. “The one where you got the whole bar singing ‘We Are the Champions’ after we clinched the playoffs? Coach actually played it in the locker room.”
“I was there for that game,” Jacks blurted out. “I mean, here. I was here, at the bar. But I was watching. We always watch. We love watching. Hockey, not creepy things. Shit. I’ll stop now.”
Skyler’s smile was brilliant. “That’s—that’s so cool.”
“Oh my God,” Benji muttered. “I can’t. This level of adorable, it’s too much.”
