“I know. But...” He looks up at me. “If we don’t go, they’re going to think something’s wrong. Or that we’re not serious. Or whatever story Garrett wants to tell himself about us.”
He’s right. Missing tonight would be weird and raise questions I don’t want to answer.
“What kind of club?”
“The kind with bottle service and a DJ, apparently. Owen’s friend knows a guy or something.” Rodriguez stands, stretching, and I watch the strip of skin that shows when his shirt rides up before forcing myself to look away. “Look, if you really don’t want to go, wewon’t. But I’m pretty good at this kind of thing. Clubs, parties, keeping drunk people entertained. I can run interference so you don’t have to deal with anyone you don’t want to.”
“You’re good at clubs?”
“JuJu. I’m a professional hockey player in my twenties. I’ve been to more clubs than I can count.” He grins. “I know how to have a good time. And more importantly, I know how to make sure you have a good time.”
I should say no. Should claim exhaustion or a headache or literally any excuse that gets me out of this.
But the thought of Garrett and Melissa out celebrating while I hide in a hotel room makes my stomach turn.
“Fine. But if it’s terrible, we’re leaving early.”
“Deal.” He’s already pulling out clothes from his new pile. “You should wear that black dress. The one you brought in case the girls decided to go out.”
“How do you know what I brought?”
“I saw you unpacking, remember? And that dress is going to look incredible.” He pauses. “Plus Garrett’s going to lose his mind when he sees you in it.”
“This isn’t about Garrett.”
“Fine. The truth is that I’m going to lose my mind when I see you in it. I was just using Garrett as an excuse.”
My face gets hot and I grab the dress from my suitcase before he can see my reaction.
An hour later,I’m in the fitted black dress that hits mid-thigh, the kind of thing I bought specifically for going out but never actually thought I’d wear. Definitely not considering it would be Rodriguez seeing me in it. He’s in dark jeans and a black button-up, sleeves rolled to his elbows, and when he sees me he stops. His jaw actually drops slightly before he catches himself. Hisfingers flex at his sides like he’s stopping himself from reaching for me.
“What?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious.
“Nothing. You just—” He shakes his head. “You look amazing.”
“Thanks.” I tug down the hem of the dress, it’s shorter than I wear most things. “You look good too.”
“I know.” The grin is back, but there’s something underneath it. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
“Hey.” He catches my hand, and I’m getting used to that now, the way he just reaches for me without any hesitation. “You look amazing and we’re going to have fun tonight. I promise.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“Watch me.”
And through everything, the exhaustion, the anxiety about seeing Garrett and Melissa, the confusion about what’s real and what’s performance, I actually believe him.
14
RODRIGUEZ
The club is exactlywhat I expected. Bass so loud you feel it in your chest, strobing lights, packed wall-to-wall with people already three drinks deep.
This is my element.
I’ve been to clubs in almost every NHL city. I know how to navigate crowds, get a bartender’s attention, and make sure everyone’s having a good time. It’s practically a professional skill at this point.
