“Look at you, all domestic and everything.”
“Don’t tell the guys,” I warn, leaning against the counter. “They’ll think I’ve gone soft.”
“You have,” she teases, sipping her coffee.
“Only for you,” I mutter before I can stop myself.
Her eyes snap up, there’s something flickering there, warmth with maybe a hint of fear. I clear my throat. “We should go out tonight.”
Her brows rise. “Out?”
“Yeah. Proper date. You, me, somewhere that doesn’t smell like sweat or takeout.”
Her smile softens. “Are you asking me on a date?”
I grin. “Depends. Are you saying yes?”
“Maybe,” she says, but her eyes give her away.
We spend the rest of the morning getting comfortable around each other. Rose showers first and it takes all of my willpower not to climb in behind her and relive all of last nights memories. But I’m trying to show my best side. The side of me that I’ve forgotten exists while dating Talia. When Rose steps out of the bathroom, she has a towel wrapped tightly around her body and a beautiful soft glow taints her cheeks. I’ve never seen anyone more stunning.
“I’ll be five minutes, then I’ll drop you at work before I head to the rink, okay?” I drop a barely-there kiss on her lips with a wink. As I pass, I can’t resist giving her ass a little slap. The sound that leaves her lips makes my cock spring to life. But I don’t have time to indulge right now, no matter how much I want to. I have to be at the rink in thirty minutes.
Training hits hard, the drills are relentless. Coach is on our backs, hounding us to give him everything we have. The rink hums with noise and movement, skates biting into ice, sticks cracking against pucks. I’m focused, mostly. But every time I pause, Rose flashes through my mind. Images of her at my counter, laughing, barefoot and half awake. They’re quickly replaced with technicolour thoughts of our antics under the sheets.
Ryan notices first. “Mate,” he says between drills, panting. “You’ve got that look.”
“What look?” I shoot back, my breath clouding the air.
“The post-sex serenity glow,” Lukas says, skating up beside us with a wicked grin.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter.
Ryan grins. “He’s not denying it, boys.”
I shoulder-check him lightly. “Maybe because I’m too busy not caring.”
“Sure, sure,” Lukas says. “Tell us more about this photographer you’re totally not shagging.”
I roll my eyes. “Grow up.”
Ryan smirks. “Nah, I like this version of you. Brooding and secretly loved up.”
I’m about to fire something back when Lukas’ expression shifts. He’s holding his phone, brow furrowed. “Uh, Cal… mate, you’ve seen this?”
He flips the screen toward me, and my stomach drops.
It’s a photo of me and Talia. It’s old, from months back, taken at some team event before everything imploded. She’s laughing, her hand resting on my chest, and the caption burns in my skull.
Some people forget where they came from. Don’t worry, I don’t.
Beneath it, comments are exploding with speculation and accusations. Some tagging the team. Some taggingRose.The blood roars in my ears.
Lukas winces. “There’s more.”
He scrolls, showing me a second post. This one zoomed in on the rink, me in the background, and Rose on the sidelines holding her camera. The caption?
Funny how fast people move on. Some girls don’t mind being a rebound.
