Page 23 of Arctic Titans of Northwood U: Volume 2

“Technically,” I sighed. “We didn’t have sex. We just…fell asleep. You know what? I don’t need to tell you that. Forget it.” I slipped my phone out and swallowed my annoyance. They were right. We’d had a deal for them to be at the restaurant until I bailed on that whole plan and booked a private houseboat instead. “Here.” I pushed my phone across the dining table to my friends. It was a selfie from the limo.

“He looks like he’s about to harvest your kidneys,” Cole said.

“Shut up,” I snapped. “That’s just mean. He’s a great guy.”

Cole’s eyebrows rose high, his ears turning red. “I’m just fucking around. Jeez.”

“Well, don’t,” I said shortly.

Spencer pushed my phone back. “Why are you cranky? Need a snack?”

I gritted my teeth for a moment. “I’m not cranky. It’s just nasty to mock the guy for looking serious. So what? He doesn’t laugh like an idiot, so let’s all point fingers at him.”

“Nobody’s pointing anything,” Spencer said lazily. “Anyway, you won the bet. It’s over now.”

It was anything but over. This morning, when I startled myself awake, I discovered Avery lying on me. My right arm was numb, but I didn’t want to roll him off of it. He’d been lying on his side, facing me, and I couldn’t stop looking at his handsome face. Those sharp cheekbones and his uniquely sandy hair. I couldn’t bring myself to end the date.

“Oh shit,” Spencer said, looking at me. He had just bitten off a piece of his sandwich. He chewed it, shook his head, and swallowed. “It’s too late. You already got obsessed.”

“I’m not obsessed. Jesus, Spencer.” Hearing that was almost as bad as remembering that I had taken Avery out under false pretenses. But I’d only had good intentions. That had to count for something. Right?

Cole was oddly quiet. Maybe I had been too harsh, but he had to learn to mind his tongue. Spencer took another bite of his sandwich, then wiped his fingers on a paper napkin. “It was just a dare, Cap. Are you catching the feels?”

“Tsss. I’m not catching anything. And if I want to have a second date, I don’t think that’s anybody’s business.” I glanced at my phone. The morning was flying by. I should probably hit the gym before tonight’s drills. I was buzzing with excess energy. It needed to go somewhere.

“You’re serious, huh?” Spencer asked, not unkindly. “It’s not what we planned for you, Cap, but if you like him that much, then I’m happy for you.”

I chewed on my lip, slightly sulkily, although I couldn’t say why. Maybe because this whole setup undermined what I ended up wanting. “I like him.”

Spencer glanced at Cole. “We should start a matchmaking business.”

Cole relaxed a bit and laughed. He met my gaze and shrugged. “Sorry, Gray. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

I nodded. Time was flying by too quickly for one morning but too slowly for a week of waiting. I doubted I could drag Avery out of hiding before next weekend. So, the first thing I did was make a quick trip to Cupid’s. I wrote him a new postcard and canceled the old ones. This one thanked him for a magical night and challenged him to a rematch. I chuckled to myself as I wrote it, then handed it to the middle-aged woman with a kind, motherly look in her eyes.

Conditioning, studying, practice. Day after day, I busied myself to pass the time. It would have been a bleak routine if it weren’t for Avery’s text messages.

Got your postcard. Can this harassment stop?

I accept your challenge, by the way.

I’d almost fallen off the treadmill when the messages showed on my smartwatch. I finished my running session, threw a towel around my neck, and grabbed my phone to reply.

You will be picked up, good sir.

I refuse to be pulled by a horse.

I’ll pull you myself if I have to.

I wore a goofy smile on my face whenever I looked at my screen. We sorted out the details of our next date over the course of a couple of days. It would be a simple one. We’d catch a movie and have drinks after. I was sure Avery would approve whatever creative decisions I made along the way. But we couldn’t catch each other before Saturday night because he played a game on Thursday and I played on Friday. And that just wasn’t good enough for me.

On Wednesday evening, I stood in the shadows, outside the pool of light the lamps cast on the pavement in front of Northwood’s rink. I hugged myself for warmth and waited for his drills to end. I knew his schedule vaguely, so I paced to keep myself busy because I wasn’t sure how long the wait would last.

The chatter and laughter of my natural enemies, the Arctic Titans, inspired me to stay back. They weren’t a violent gang of guys, but I was a lonely rival who didn’t want to push his luck. A few nasty words wouldn’t surprise me, though.

I spotted a few familiar faces. Beckett swaggered with Caden on his heels. They seemed to be in a hurry. The two defensemen I’d often played against, Sebastian and Tyler, walked slower, deep in conversation. Near them was the bulky winger, Jordan, and a couple of newbies I’d seen this season followed him. A handful of guys I didn’t know by name, but I recognized a shaggy golden mane of one and the full buzzcut of another. The last to come out were their goalie and my object of fascination. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to join them like a creep and a stalker, so I grabbed my phone instead.

You’re being followed. Don’t worry. I’ve got you covered. (That jacket’s an excellent choice, by the way.)