Page 34 of Puck Me Back to Life

“Shit.”

A sane person would ignore that.

A sane person would go to sleep.

A sane person wouldn't be sitting alone in a hotel room wondering what it would feel like to have Ash Grant's full attention.

Unfortunately, sanity and I have not been particularly close for the last two years.

I stand.

Sit back down.

Stand again.

This is ridiculous!

I am twenty-five years old. A professional athlete. And somehow, I've worked myself into a panic because a handsome man flirted with me. The realization is embarrassing enough to make me laugh. Short. Disbelieving.

Then I walk to the door. Because apparently my body has decided we're doing this. The hallway is empty.

I tell myself I can always turn around. Or I can knock and leave if he answers.

I tell myself a lot of things. Somehow, none of them result in me going back to my room.

Ash's room is three doors down. Not that I've memorized where he's staying. I just happen to know. For completely normal reasons.

The hallway suddenly feels very long.

What if I completely misunderstood?

What if he was joking?

What if⁠—

The sound of voices reaches me from the elevator.

Several players are returning from downstairs. Instinctively, I step back toward my own door. Then I freeze because Ash is one of them.

He's laughing at something Dante says. The sound catches me off guard. I've heard him laugh before. Just not like that. Relaxed.

The group moves down the hallway. One by one they disappear into their rooms. Eventually Ash reaches his own door. For a second, he glances down the hallway. Our eyes meet.

The distance between us isn't large. Maybe twenty feet. Less. Something shifts in his expression. Recognition. Like he already knows why I'm standing here.

The thought sends heat rushing into my face.

“Night, Hayes.” Ash disappears into his room.

The door closes. I stand there for another minute or so. Long enough to become genuinely annoyed with myself. Then I walk forward and knock. The door opens and every coherent thought leaves my body.

Ash is shirtless, revealing his tattooed sleeves I've almost committed to memory now. His long black hair has been pulled loose from whatever tie he wore during the game. It falls around his shoulders in slightly messy waves. A pair of gray sweatpants hangs low on his hips like he put them on purely to spite me.

The man looks unfair. Completely unfair.

His gaze lands on me. Then a slow smile appears.

“Kai.”