“No shit?” I snort.
His soft lips curl into a teasing smile. “Nothing too concerning, just a little casual, light stalking.”
“What’s light stalking?” My curiosity is peaked.
“I follow you on social media, for example.”
I frown. “No, you don’t.”
“I do, too.” He insists, taking his phone and unlocking the screen to show me one of his apps. “See?”
His profile is Nashville4u, that’s why I hadn’t made the connection. There is a generic photo of a pair of hockey skates as a profile picture.
“That’s you? You have, like, five followers. It can’t be you. You had twenty thousand followers last time I checked.”
His smile widens. “I did. I archived that profile after the whole cheating scandal. I couldn’t take all the scrutiny and speculation about why I was riding the bench. But I started this other one so I could follow you.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Why do you look so happy?”
“Because it looks like I wasn’t the only stalker. You have been stalking me too if you knew how many followers I had.”
“I was not.” I argue.
It looks like my reaction amuses him. “Right. You weren’t.”
“Nash!” I snap, swatting at his chest. “I wasn’t.”
He traps my hand in his, placing it against his hard chest. “Ok. I believe you.”
It doesn’t look like he does; he’s still smiling. “I mean it.”
“I have no problem admitting that I watched the videos of your dance competitions dozens of times. And I tried to get an idea of who you are. Or at least of who you want the world to think you are.”
“And who is that?” I ask.
Nash keeps my hand flat against his chest; his heart picks up its pace under my palm. “You love dogs. Especially tiny dogs. Your favorite color is blue, and your biggest regret is not beingtaller. You hate heights and love pizza. And your comfort food is mashed potatoes, that’s why I knew you’d be at the food hall today when I saw that they have mashed potatoes on the menu.”
I don’t even realize that I’m smiling too until I feel it on my face. “You’re good at this light stalking thing.”
“When I put my mind to something, I’m usually pretty good.” He smiles. “What about you? What did you learn from my profile?”
Heat rises to my face at that question. I could lie and make something up, but I decide to be honest at least about this.
“Not much. I just enjoyed looking at your shirtless photos.”
His eyes widen. “Trouble. You’ve been objectifying me? I didn’t peg you for a thirst trap fan.”
“Don’t post thirst traps if you don’t want people to enjoy them.”
Nash laughs. “You got me there, Trouble.”
“Why do you keep calling me trouble?” I challenge him.
“Because that’s what you are. I came here to keep my head down, play hockey, and graduate. No women, no drama. And yet, here we are. Since the second I saw you at auditions, you’ve been on my mind a lot more than is healthy. That’s why I followed you into that bathroom at the party. I thought that hooking up with you would improve the situation and get you out of my system.”
I’m a little scared to ask my next question, but I decide to be brave. “And did it?”
“Not even close, Trouble. If anything, I’m thinking about you even more. I might even be a little obsessed with you.”
