So I demonstrated again, and Blake pressed against my back, his arms coming around to "contain" me against an imaginary board. Except there was no board, just Blake's very solid chest and his hands carefully bracketing my waist and the way his breath stirred my hair when he leaned down to murmur, "Like this?"
"Yes. Exactly like that. You can let go now."
"Are you sure? I want to make sure I've got the positioning right. Maybe we should try it from a different angle."
"Blake!"
"Or what if the opponent is moving? We should practice that too."
"Blake, I swear to—"
"My turn," Nolan announced, and I swear I saw Blake smirk as he stepped away.
Nolan, at least, had the decency to look slightly apologetic as he moved into position. "I appreciate your patience with us. I know this is probably frustrating."
"Thank you. At least one of you has some—"
"However," he continued smoothly, his hands settling on my waist with infuriating confidence, "I think there's a technical issue with how Blake was positioning his hands. The center of gravity is all wrong. Let me show you what I mean."
And then he proceeded to "demonstrate" the "correct" hand position, which apparently required significantly more contact than the previous two attempts and involved him explaining, in excruciating detail, every minor adjustment while his thumbs traced patterns on my hipbones through my shirt.
"This is ridiculous," I finally said, stepping away from all of them. "You're not learning checking techniques. You're just finding excuses to—"
"To what?" Nolan asked, all innocence.
"To..." I gestured helplessly between all of us. "This!"
"We're just being thorough students," Logan said, but his grin ruined any pretense of innocence.
"You're sabotaging my professional boundaries."
"Were they working?" Blake asked.
"No, but that's not the point!"
"Actually," Nolan said thoughtfully, "I think that is exactly the point."
I was saved from having to respond by my phone buzzing. A reminder that I'd agreed to help with campus tours that afternoon. Perfect timing.
"I have to go," I announced, gathering my materials with shaking hands. "We'll continue this discussion later."
"Looking forward to it," all three of them said in unison.
Traitors.
The campus tour was supposed to be a brief escape. Ninety minutes of showing prospective students around, talking about athletics programs, and definitely not thinking about three hockey players who were systematically destroying my sanity.
Of course, the universe had other plans.
I was midway through explaining the history of our athletics center when I saw him. Sam. Walking across the quad with his arm around a brunette who was gazing up at him like he'd personally hung the moon.
I froze.
"Mira!" Sam's face lit up like he hadn't destroyed my entire life. "What are the odds?"
The odds of seeing him again were exactly as astronomical as I'd calculated them to be. But apparently, the universe thought I needed more character development.
"Sam? What are you doing here?" I managed to keep my voice level. "Didn’t you transfer to Westwood?"
