Page 25 of Date With Skates

Chapter Twelve

Étienne

The dining hall is busy, even though it’s getting late. A lot of athletes head in here for late night snacks after the games to refuel. I know that because I’m here often, since Nico has been doing his own thing and this is a good place to socialize and eat, which are two of my favorite things to do.

“I love food,” I say with a wistful sigh as we step into the dining hall, and I get a whiff of all the deliciousness.

“Food is good,” Connor agrees, but there is no enthusiasm to his words.

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those ‘I only put healthy things into my body’ types. I deal with that enough from Nico.”

He chuckles. “Nah, nothing like that. I just don’t like to eat when I’m nervous or when I’m playing.

“How come?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “I just feel it sitting in my stomach and it’s distracting.”

“And you don’t need distractions on the ice.”

He gives me a look that I can’t quite decipher. Almost like he’s shocked I understood what he was saying, but wasn’t it obvious?

“No, I don’t.” Now it looks like he’s trying to figure something out.

“What?” I question, because things are starting to feel slightly strange and I’m not sure what I said. Usually, I can pinpoint the weird thing I said. This time, everything that came out of my mouth was normal.

“You said you like hockey. What’s your favorite team?”

“The Tornadoes. Obviously. They’re the closest to home.”

He doesn’t look convinced by my answer, and I still can’t figure out what’s going on in his head.

“If you want to say something, just say it.”

“Okay. Are you trying to throw me off my game?”

My eyes widen and then I burst out laughing, almost bumping into the person in front of me. I apologize, then turn back to Connor.

“Have you been so distracted by me that you’re not playing to your fullest, Connor McVoy? Because damn, that’s not at all what I expected you to say. And if that is the case.” I fan myself. “You’re just making me hotter.”

Sighing, he shakes his head. “Never mind.” He moves to walk off, but I grab his arm and look at him seriously so he knows that I’m no longer playing around.

“I am not trying to throw you off your game. Obviously I’m Team Canada, but I wouldn’t do something to interfere with the outcome. I’m here because I want to be. Because I saw you, and I was interested.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes, that’s it. It’s that simple. Attraction.” I look him up and down. “A lot of it, if you haven’t noticed.”

He nods, then moves ahead. We grab food and take a seat at the end of a table by ourselves. He seems to be over whatever he was worried about, which is a relief because I don’t want to spend time trying to make him feel better about his concerns. I’m not good at emotional support. I avoid it at all costs.

“So, where is your roommate?” I ask, trying to make casual conversation.

“Probably gallivanting with your cousin.”

“You think they’re fucking yet?”

If he’s surprised by my question, he doesn’t act like it. Just answers like we’re talking about his next game.

“I thought so, but now I’m not so sure.”