Page 5 of Stolen Moments

Jackson turns around, and the look in his eyes makes my stomach flip.

“Can’t wait, Sharma.”

Chapter 2

Jackson

I can’t stop thinking about her hands.

It’s been three days since the anatomy session, and I can still feel Priya Sharma’s fingers on my skin. Driving me absolutely insane.

I’ve been with plenty of girls. Had my share of hookups, a few short relationships, nothing serious. But I’ve never been affected like this by someone just touching my skin.

She was so focused, so serious, so completely in control, and I wanted to make her lose that control. I wanted to see her unravel, see what she looks like when she’s not being the perfect pre-med student.

The tattoo comment surprised me. She noticed. Actually looked at it instead of just seeing another hockey player covered in ink.

Most people don’t know I’m an art major. It’s easier to let them think I’m just another dumb jock riding an athletic scholarship. Easier than explaining that I paint until 3 AM most nights, that I’ve been accepted to RISD’s graduate program, that hockey is just my way of paying for my real passion.

My phone buzzes during practice. Text from Priya.

Priya: Tutoring session tomorrow 4 PM. Don’t forget we’re covering molecular orbital theory.

Me: Will I need to take my shirt off for that too?

Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again.

Priya: No. And that was for anatomical study purposes only.

Me: Sure it was. See you tomorrow, Sharma.

No response.

Carter skates up beside me during a water break. “You’re distracted today. Is everything okay?”

“Fine.”

“You missed an easy pass in that last drill. You never miss those.” He studies me too carefully. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Just thinking.”

“About?”

“None of your business.”

“Is this about that TA you’ve been complaining about? The one who’s supposedly making your life hell with Chemistry?” He’s our captain and he knows his players better that we know our selfs, it’s fucking annoying.

“I’m not complaining about her.”

“You literally said last week that she’s ‘an uptight know-it-all who acts like molecular bonding is more important than hockey.’”

“Yeah, well. She’s not that bad.”

Carter’s eyes narrow. “Wait. Do you like her?”

“What? No. She’s my TA and my anatomy model assignment. It’s professional.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” He grins. “What’s her name?”