Zane laughs.
“I’m serious,” I continue.“I was in the middle of dancing to Dolly Parton wearing a face mask and bunny slippers.”
He nearly chokes on his waffle.
“I wish I had seen that.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t,” I say.“Your friend is lucky he survived.”
“I told him to stop using the key,” Zane says immediately.
“He said he needed blades,” I shrug.“It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Still,” Zane says.“I should’ve warned you.”
“It’s fine,” I repeat.“He left after a bit.” Technically true. Zane studies me like he’s trying to decide if there’s more to the story.
“So,” I say, changing the subject,“tell me about your date.”
His entire expression shifts instantly. There it is. The smile. The nervous one. The hopeful one.
“It was good,” he says.
“Just good?” I ask.
“Really good,” he corrects himself.
“Better.”
He laughs softly and leans back in his chair.
“We went to this new restaurant,” he begins.“Nothing fancy. She said she didn’t like places that were too formal.”
“I like her already,” I say.
“Yeah,” he nods.“Me too.”
“What’s she like?” I ask.
“She’s funny,” he says immediately.“And kind. And she pretends she’s not nervous, but she absolutely is.”
“That’s adorable.”
“It is,” he agrees.
“And?” I prompt.
“And she challenges me,” he continues.“Not in a bad way. Just… she doesn’t treat me like I’m a hockey player.”
“That’s rare,” I say.
“Very rare.” He looks down at his plate for a second before continuing.“She told me she almost didn’t come to the charity event where we met.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. She said she felt out of place.”
My chest tightens a little.“I know that feeling,” I say quietly.
