I knew I shouldn’t have left. I should have stayed and talked to him, or knocked on the door and just looked like a total fool who’d thought about running away. Except I actually was, and did. Urgh.
I skate over to where he’s warming up with White and Dawes.
“It was a great party last night,” I say, joining them in side-to-side skater slides.
“Yeah,” Dawes calls back. “It was good. Did you score some cool gifts, Raines?”
“I haven’t opened any yet. I left them all stacked up on the coffee table to torture my brothers by making them wait. They won’t dare open them for me,” Reid replies as he picks up speed. I match pace, while Dawes and White drop back. I’ve got about two seconds of lead time. If I’m quick and keep my voice low, I should be able to tell him sorry for running away, or for not leaving a note, or not texting him. Fuck, why didn’t I text him? I suck.
“Can we talk later?” I ask as we reach the end and turn to start making our way back.
“Why?”
Great. He’s pissed. He’s definitely pissed. I know that tone. It’s the same tone he uses when I go rogue on the ice. I guess he doesn’t want to talk to me at all, let alone later.
“I could say what I have to say here, now,” I reply, and he skids to a stop, slowly turning my way, one eyebrow slightly higher than the other, and while he’s trying to give off an imposing annoyance, I can see the slight uptick of the corner of his mouth.
“Go ahead,” he says, glancing around the rink.
I skate closer.
“Alright, I was bluffing, but seriously, we do need to talk.”
“Okay, later.”
“Promise?” I ask, and he actually rolls his eyes. “What was that?” I laugh.
“What? Like you get to be the only one who acts like a child?”
“Well, I am a rookie.”
Chapter eighteen
Reid
Iwasdreadingpractice.After I woke up and Luka was gone, my heart sank. The bed felt so empty, and I just sat there for a few minutes replaying the night, trying to find when it all went so wrong. I mean, there had to be something for him to slink off in the middle of the night, no message, no note. But no matter how many times I replayed every delicious moment we spent together, I came up empty. So, I showered and came to the rink, totally preparing myself for the fallout. Would he blame me? Say I’d used my position as captain to coerce him into sleeping with me? It sounds ridiculous, but that’s the kind of thing your mind starts convincing you is reality, or at least a possible reality, when the guy you just spent the best night of your life with disappears before the sun comes up. If only this were a trashy fantasy movie, then the most likely excusewould be that he was a vampire, not a guy with serious regret about the arm he woke up under.
Then I got to the rink and saw the sunflower sitting there on the small shelf of my locker, and my stomach flipped with excitement. With a flutter in my chest, I pick it up gently between two fingers, hand shaking, worried that the delicate petals might fall if I was too rough.
The stem is sort of furry in a way, and it’s so top-heavy it’s hard to imagine them growing as large as they do in the wild. I remember my parents taking my brothers and me on a road trip when they were little, and we passed by a field so full of yellow sunflowers it was like we’d flipped the car and we were driving through the sunset instead of beneath it.
The echo of voices pulls me from the memory, and I quickly pop the flower into my training bag, on top of my clothes so it won’t get squished, and then pull on my gear and head out to the ice.
I spot Luka laughing and chatting with a few of the guys, and while I try to keep my head about me, his voice keeps pulling my attention, and I almost slip when stepping out onto the ice.
Thankfully, no one notices. In fact, Luka hasn’t looked at me even once since I got down here. I guess if he’s going to act as if nothing happened, and that this is a totally normal practice instead of the first practice after a mind-blowing night together, then I guess I can do that too. Maybe. Okay, probably not, but I’m still going to try.
“Nice of you to join us, Raines,” White calls, and Luka glances my way. The second our eyes meet, the memory of his mouth on minesurfaces, and I get that swirl in my gut that came the first time he bent over at the bar, purposefully tempting me to check out his perfect, round ass. Except we’re at the rink, and the semi that memory has given me is totally inappropriate.
I shake my head as if it’ll somehow help to dispel the flashes of his hot, toned body, and start warming up my legs, skating side-to-side slides with White and Dawes. But then suddenly Luka’s right there beside me, and before I can register what I’m doing, I’ve agreed to talk after practice. I don’t even remember how it happened. I’m in so much trouble.
***
We finish up our power play drills, and I move to the side to stretch before heading in to shower and change. Everything about this is wrong—I know it, he should know it, and if the coaches or the team knew, they would tell us both this is a colossally terrible idea. But no matter how many times I repeat that to myself, nothing about my time with Luka last night feels wrong. One look at those adorable dimples of his and I fucking melt. I’m actually pretty certain that there’s zero chance I will ever again get through an entire day of training without thinking about last night. But I’m not exactly mad about it either. I mean, unless he never wants it to happen again. Then I might need to put in for a transfer.
I turn around, and Luka is in a frog pose, stretching like he’s humping the ice, and holy fuck, nope. I am not this person. I am a grown-ass man; I can control my urges. Nope. That cocky shit just looked right at me and rolled his hips slower. Fuck you, Luka.
Urgh, this is torture.
