I stop.
His grin widens. “Oh my God. He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.”
Ford laughs loudly from the blue line. “Peyton broke the brick wall.”
“She didn’t break anything.”
Connor points his stick toward the stands. “Then why do you keep staring at her like she hung the moon?”
Heat creeps up my neck beneath the mask.
I hate these assholes.
“Focus up, Guyer,” Ford says, still laughing. “Or Coach Decker’s gonna personally launch your ass into Canada when camp starts.”
I glare at him through my mask. “I hate every single one of you.”
“No, you don’t,” Connor says cheerfully.
Unfortunately, he’s right.
By the timeFord finally blows the whistle, signaling the end of the skate, I’m desperate to get off the ice.
Not because I’m tired. Because Peyton’s waiting for me.
The realization still feels strange as hell.
Usually after skates, I linger. The guys shower and bullshit around the locker room for an hour while Connor starts arguments he can’t win, Jake instigates everything, and Ford attempts to maintain some level of order.
It’s routine. Familiar. Safe.
But tonight?
I can barely focus on any of it.
And the reason why has long blonde hair and is wearing my sweatshirt.
I rip off my mask and head straight for the tunnel.
“Whoa,” Connor yells behind me. “Where the hell are you going?”
“The locker room.”
“Bullshit,” Jake says. “That’s the fastest I’ve ever seen you leave the ice.”
Ford skates toward the bench, smirking. “He’s eager.”
“I’m not eager.”
Connor barks out a laugh. “Buddy, you practically teleported off the ice.”
Cole points his stick at me. “You gonna braid her hair after this or what?”
“Keep talking and I’ll hit you with my blocker.”
Jake gasps dramatically. “He’s threatening violence. It’s serious.”
I flip them off and disappear into the tunnel while their laughter echoes behind me.
