“No.”
“Yes, it is, but I understand it.” Her eyes were kind. “You are trying not to think about Dean Foster for several consecutive hours.”
Despite the cold, my cheeks burned. “That is not what this is.”
“Of course not. Which explains why you chose to spend your afternoon with people guaranteed to mention him every five minutes.” She shoved her hands deeper into her pockets. “An excellent strategy. Very disciplined.”
I scowled. “You are enjoying this.”
She smirked. “A little.”
The café came into view at the corner ahead, crowded with Olympic spectators wrapped in scarves and accreditation badges. Through the windows I could already see flashes of familiar team jackets and animated movement.
Warmth rolled over us the moment we stepped inside, thick with coffee and sugar and damp wool drying near radiators. Somebody laughed loudly near the counter. Cups clattered against saucers, conversations overlapping in half a dozen accents.
Then I saw Dean, and the world narrowed with terrifying speed.
He had his back to me, and he was laughing at something Noah said, his head tilted back. He was seated near the center of the long pushed-together tables, surrounded by teammates and skaters from other countries.
And then Keisha said something to him, and he turned his head.
Everything inside me tightened at once.
The café noise continued uninterrupted around us, but his expression changed so completely when he saw me that the rest of the room blurred at the edges anyway. Shock crossed his face first, sharp enough to steal the breath from my lungs, before it softened into relief so visible it hurt to look at directly.
God, that look nearly destroyed me.
Beside me, Mila exhaled. “Well, that answersthatquestion.”
I barely heard her.
Dean stood so abruptly his chair scraped loudly against the floor, and what unsettled me almost as much as his reaction was the complete lack of confusion from everybody around him. Ethan looked unbearably smug. Noah stared between us with open fascination. Nathan wore the resigned expression of somebody whose suspicions had just become fact.
They know.
Not everything, perhaps. Enough.
Dean took one step toward me before stopping himself, and I knew he was respecting what I had asked for, showing the same restraint he’d demonstrated on the ice the evening before.
Neither of us spoke.
Then Dean gave a slight, uncertain smile.
“Hey.”
That was all it took for every miserable hour since I left his room to collapse inward under the simple relief of hearing his voice again.
Dean
Luka walked into the café,and I forgot how to function as a human being.
Unfortunately, everyone at the table realized it.
Noah looked between us once before muttering, “Oh my God,” under his breath. Nathan kicked him under the table, and Noah glared at him. “What did you do that for?” He gestured to me and Luka. “Don’t act like you’re not seeing this too. They look like the final scene of a melodrama my mom binge-watches at three in the morning. I’m two seconds away from hearing violins, then everything’ll go into slow-mo.”
“Noah, I swear…” Keisha rolled her eyes. “I’m gonna get you a zipper for that mouth.”
Meanwhile I remained rooted to the floor like a complete idiot because Luka stood near the entrance looking exactly the same as he had two nights ago, and somehow not the same at all.
