Hesitation and a slight frown forms on his face. “I don’t like him touching you.”
My heart skips. “He’s just like that. I’m like that. It’s a Latin thing. Some of us are touchy-feely, but it doesn’t mean anything.”
“Is that what you like?” he asks quietly.
His question takes me by surprise. I search his eyes. I’ve never thought about it before, but I guess affection is a love language I crave. I answer with a nod. Tate wasn’t very affectionate. And despite his jealousy, I don’t expect Finn to be either. I’m not sure I can even picture Finn in the kind of relationship that would require expectations.
He looks at me for a long moment with that inscrutable expression I can’t read, and takes a step back. He watches my every move as I fix my romper and locate my sandals, which flew off at some point. When we finally walk out of my room, he presses his hand to the small of my back and leaves it there until we reach the kitchen. Only then, does he fully pull away from me.
21
FINN
“What’s your celly going to be when you score the first goal?” Lundy asks, as he skates up.
“I’ve known Barlow since I was born and I’ve never seen him celebrate anything.” Hamilton laughs as he shoots the puck into the goal.
“Is that right?” Lundy takes his shot.
“I’m here to win, not dance,” I say, skating around Lundy, who’s trying to block me, and shoot the puck in.
“This fucking guy,” he says, shaking his head with a laugh.
“We’re supposed to go golfing soon,” Ham says to Lundy as he skates around me to get the puck. I steal it from him before he can get in a good scoring position. He glares. “You motherfucker. I forgot how sneaky you are with it. Do it again.”
I do. And again. And then to Lundy, who thinks he’s going to outmaneuver me somehow.
“All day,” I say and wink.
“Already showing off, Barlow?” Peter shouts from the other side of the glass as he walks by.
“Just warming up.” I nod a greeting to the coach, who laughs.
“You work on your celly yet?” Damian asks, skating up to us.
“We haven’t even played a game yet and you two are focused on celebrating.” I shake my head.
“Nah, my head’s in the game,” he says, skating away.
He slows down and does a few turns in the middle of the rink, looking up at the stands. I never played in college, but I’ve been to the arena the Blaze play in, so I know this is impressing the fuck out of him. The arena is impressive—period. It’s brand new, and they seemed to think of everything when they built it.
We keep trash-talking, and when more of our teammates join us, we introduce ourselves to the ones we don’t know and start passing the puck between all of us. After a few minutes, Coach Petey comes back with skates on and starts going over general items. While we've all reviewed our playbooks, we'd never been on the ice together before.
A couple of guys have never played professionally, and only two of us have played for Petey in the past. It’ll take time for us to learn how to play together, but that’s what this is for. And there’s always preseason. I’m confident in our coaches and I like everyone’s style, so I feel good about this team.
“You get your workout in?” Hamilton asks Damian, as we skate off the ice when we’re done with practice.
“Joss made me get up at five in the morning,” Dame says, rolling his eyes. “So I feel like I got two workouts in.”
At the sound of her name, I feel my body go rigid. I haven’t stopped thinking about that damn kiss and how she felt against me. In the shower, in bed, in the kitchen, on my drive here. I swear she’s bewitched me.
“As long as your workout wasn’twithher, if you know what I mean,” Hammie jokes.
I feel my jaw clench. I force myself to keep my eyes on the ground. I’ve always been good at keeping my emotions off my face, but the amount of rage I feel at his little joke is making mesee red. As they go back and forth shooting the shit, I grind my jaw and tune them out. Josslyn’s a beautiful woman with an immense following, and that’s something that doesn’t bother me, but thinking about her with someone else is fucking torturous. I keep telling myself that I only feel this way because I haven’t had my fill of her. Maybe it is that, but after yesterday, I’m not so sure.
“That’s my sister, fuck-faces,” Dame says, pushing Hamilton.
“Fuck! I’m kidding,” Hamilton says, laughing as he hops away from Dame.
