The ride back is a blur of laughter, hockey talk, and stolen glances. The team doesn’t miss a beat. Brennan and Ryan jab me mercilessly about her, Lukas is fascinated by the chemistry, and even in the noise, I can hear Rose’s soft laughter, like it’s just forme. Every time our hands brush as she adjusts her camera bag or leans forward to check her shots, a spark runs through me that’s impossible to ignore.
By the time we reach Manchester, my pulse has been racing for hours. I’m acutely aware of the way she moves, the way her hair bounces when she tosses it behind her shoulder, and even the way her boots scuff against the bus floor. I don’t notice the city lights passing by outside; all I can focus on is her.
Once we’re back, the team scatters, everyone heading home for the day off. I linger by the door as Rose fiddles with her camera, scrolling through shots from last night’s game. I’ve been rehearsing this in my head for the last hour, trying to figure out how to ask without sounding like a complete idiot.
“Those shots are incredible,” I manage finally, leaning against the wall near the staircase. My voice is softer than usual, and I catch her glance flicking up to meet mine. “Seriously. You’ve got an eye for this, Rose.”
Her lips twitch, teasing, but there’s a softness in her gaze that makes my chest tighten. “You’ve got to say that. Otherwise, I’d start thinking the Panthers are all just sweaty chaos on ice,” she replies, but there’s heat in her words.
“I’d say it anyway,” I murmur, stepping closer. Just a little. Her eyes track me, and that pause, the fraction of a second, says everything neither of us wants to speak aloud. The tension coils tight between us. I clear my throat, forcing a casual tone. “You’re free today, right? It’s a rest day for the team.”
Her eyebrows lift. “I am, I don’t have to work at the shop this weekend. Why?”
“I was thinking,” I say, careful not to let my voice get too low or my intent too obvious, “if you want to, you could come back to the team’s reserve flat with me, it’s where I’m staying until I figure something more permanent out. No distractions, noone else around. Just… coffee, editing your shots, maybe some music.”
Her head tilts, and I swear she’s weighing me up like a puzzle she doesn’t want to solve too fast. “You mean… just us?”
“Just us,” I confirm, heart hammering. “I mean, if you want. Totally optional. No pressure.”
The nod of her head is so slight that I almost miss it, but the broad smile gives her away anyway. “Good,” I breathe out, a grin spreading across my face. “Let’s not wait around. Once the bus and everyone else disappears, I’ll drive us straight to the flat. No distractions.”
She arches an eyebrow, playful and unflinching. “Straight there, huh? Efficient.”
“Efficient and… necessary,” I mutter, trying to keep my voice steady. My pulse is still loud in my ears.
She bites her lip, but there’s no hesitation in her eyes this time, just that familiar spark that makes my chest ache. “Perfect. I’m in.”
Once the team scatters and the bus is empty, I loop my arm around her shoulders as we step toward the car. The city smells faintly of rain and exhaust fumes, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but the space between us.
I start the engine, keeping a hand on the wheel but sneaking glances at her. She’s relaxed, confident, holding her camera loosely in her lap, and my stomach twists in a way it hasn’t in years.
“You know,” she says, voice low and teasing, “I’m not expecting you to make small talk the whole way. I can handle the silence.”
“Good,” I reply, my eyes flicking to the road, though I’m barely seeing it. “Because my brain is… occupied.”
Her laugh is soft, knowing, and I can feel her leaning just a little closer as we drive. I fight the urge to reach over and touchher, to trace her fingers, to pull her into my lap and not let go. Every nerve in me is taut, and wired to her presence.
The flat comes into view quickly; it’s modest, but mine, for the time being anyway. Empty in all the ways that matter. I pull into the driveway, cut the engine, and glance at her.
She tilts her head, eyes alight with mischief and warmth. “So, this is where all the editing magic happens, huh?”
“Yeah,” I murmur, swallowing. “And maybe a little chaos too.”
Before she can respond, I reach over, drag her close, and kiss her again. Hard and unapologetic, the kind of kiss that leaves both of us slightly breathless and grinning like fools. She melts into me, confident and sure, as if last night wasn’t a fluke, and she wants this as much as I do.
When we finally pull back, I press my forehead to hers. “Welcome,” I whisper. “To our day off.”
She smirks, letting her hand rest on my chest. “I have a feeling it’s going to be memorable.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
ROSE
Stepping into Callum’s flat, I barely have a chance to catch my bearings before his hands are on my waist, pulling me close, lips crashing onto mine. It’s not a gentle greeting kiss, this is fire, tension, and everything I’ve been feeling since the bus ride packed into one heated, intoxicating moment. My knees practically buckle.
My camera bag drops to the floor without a thought, I wrap my arms around his neck, and he lifts me effortlessly. My legs curl around his waist instinctively, and the moment I do, I feel that magnetic, impossible pull between us tighten. His grip on me is firm, yet careful, he’s both claiming and protecting me at once. I can feel the press of his chest against mine, the heat of his body, the way his dirty blond hair falls into his eyes when he tilts his head.
“Rose…” he murmurs against my lips, breath ragged.
