Page 50 of Puck Me Back to Life

He nods. “I figured skating for a living and smoking weren't a great combination.”

“A revolutionary discovery.”

“Thank you.”

“Scientists everywhere are impressed.”

That earns another laugh. The sound feels easier now, more natural, and I like that far more than I should.

I hold up the cigarette. “So let me get this straight.”

Hayes immediately looks suspicious.

“You smoke.”

“Past tense.”

“Okay. You quit a few months ago.”

“Correct.”

“And now you're lecturing me.”

Realization dawns. His eyes narrow.

My grin widens. “A hypocrite.”

“Oh, my God.”

“A complete hypocrite.”

“I quit.”

“When? Two seconds after you stole my cigarette?”

“It still counts.”

“It absolutely does not.”

His groan echoes across the parking lot.

For a moment neither of us says anything. The team has mostly disappeared by now. Only a handful of staff members remain, and the arena behind us hums with distant activity. Hayes shifts his bag higher on his shoulder.

“I should go.”

Instead of agreeing, I find myself studying him. The messy hair. The fuzzy jacket. The book hidden safely in his bag. The way he always seems surprised when someone wants him around.

Something in my chest tightens unexpectedly.

Because I'm looking forward to seeing him again.

Not just tonight.

Not just in bed.

Tomorrow.

The day after that.