“You’re good at this,” she says, her voice close to my ear.
“You’re better.” I pull back enough to meet her eyes. “Thanks for saying yes.”
Her smile is softer now, less guarded.
The song ends too soon. She steps back, but she doesn’t drop my hand right away.
“See you around, Tully,” she says.
“Count on it,” I reply.
She disappears into the crowd with her friends, and I stand there a second longer, tasting victory sweeter than the one on the ice.
It’s mid-afternoon, and the coffee shop on the edge of campus is buzzing. Everyone is pretending to study, but mostly the patrons scroll through their phones and people-watch through the big windows. I’m here killing time before optional lifts—Coach is still riding us hard after the win, but my body’s sore in the good way, and my mind’s been replaying that dance with Lola on loop for three days straight.
I spot her before she sees me. She’s at a corner table, earbuds in, legs crossed under the chair, and she’s sketching something. Same black boots, and those tantalizing tattoospeeking from under her sleeve—swirling dark lines I want to ask her about. Her hair’s pulled back, and she’s biting her lip at whatever’s on the page. Effortlessly sexy as hell.
My heart kicks up immediately, that out-of-control-racing thing again, like I’m back on the ice in overtime. I grab my coffee from the counter, take a breath, and walk over before I can second-guess myself.
When my shadow falls across her table, she glances up and takes her earbuds out in one smooth motion. Her eyes brighten in recognition, then that slow smirk spreads.
“Captain,” she drawls, leaning back. “Stalking me now?”
“Only if you’re into that.” I slide into the chair across from her without asking—bold, but she doesn’t protest. “Nah, just good timing. And hey…you know that I’m captain? Did you do some stalking yourself?”
“Maybe.” She grins.
“I’m definitely into that.” I grin back. I glance down at her sketchbook and am caught by surprise. “Wow. You’rereallygood.”
“Thank you,” she says simply. “Just a hobby.” She closes the sketchbook, giving me her full attention. The air between us crackles already.
“Looks like too much talent to just be a hobby.”
She makes a face. “Tell that to my parents. Back to you and me?—”
I grin, leaning in. “Isthere a you and me?”
Her laugh is low and raspy like her voice. “I just meant, here at the same coffee shop, stalking but not stalking…”
I’m the one laughing now. “Now that I know you come here, I’ll make sure to come more often.” I tilt my head toward her. “I love your tattoos.”
She glances down, flexes her wrist so I can see the linesbetter—vines twisting into feathers. “Thank you. Hurts like hell to get them, but worth it.”
“I’ve wanted to get some but haven’t made the move yet.”
“Oh, you’re a tattoo virgin?” She grins.
“Yes. I’ve been saving my skin.”
She presses her lips together, trying not to laugh. “So innocent.”
I tilt my head. “I wouldn’t go that far.” My eyes linger a second too long on the way the ink moves with her skin, then back to her face. “They suit you. Dangerous and beautiful.”
She arches a brow, but her cheeks flush just enough to notice. “Are you flirting with me, Captain?”
“I am.” No point in playing coy. My pulse is racing, but I keep my voice steady. “Go out with me. A real date. Dinner, maybe a walk after if you’re not sick of me yet. Friday night?”
She studies me, lips pursed. “Friday, huh?” She tilts her head. “Bold.”
