And it just keeps going.
We pull back, staring at each other, breathing hard.
Daltyn groans softly, dropping his forehead against mine. “We should just ignore it.”
BZZZZZZT.
BZZZZZZT.
“What if it’s an emergency?”
He sighs, reaching for his phone while I’m still half-tangled beneath him.
He sits back, his eyes wide. “Oh no.”
I stare at his face. “Is it your teammates?”
He nods, his jaw clenching.
“What did they do?”
Instead of answering, he grabs me and shifts so I’m sitting on his lap. He holds the phone so we can both see it.
I look at it... and wish I hadn’t.
A group chat called “Avalanche After Dark” is blowing up. There are fourteen messages... and counting.
Connor: HOLY SHIT
Connor: SOS!
Connor: IT’S PUBLIC! OUR GOALIE HAS A GIRLFRIEND
Jake: ????
Ford: Why is Daltyn trending?
Connor: CHECK HOCKEY HUB
Cole: NO FUCKING WAY
Connor: THIS MAN GOT PAPARAZZIED LEAVING A LINGERIE STORE
Jake: SCREAMING
Connor: HE LOOKS LIKE HER ANGRY BODYGUARD
Cole: WAIT, IS HE HOLDING HER SHOPPING BAGS???
Connor: YES
Ford: Oh thisis bad.
Jake: HE’S DOWN BAD!
Connor: BROTHER IS IN LOVE!
Daltyn’s fingers fly over the screen.
