“Is he a good player?”
His brow furrows. “Oh, yeah. He’s annoying, but man, that kid can play hockey. He’s going first round.”
“First round?” I ask, confused.
“Yeah, he’s projected to go first round. Earlier than me, probably.” He looks at me and realizes I have no idea what he’s saying. “He’s going pro.”
I gasp. “Oh my god.”
Benson smiles. “He is, somehow, the third-leading scorer in our conference.”
I smirk. “I have no idea what that means.”
He shakes his head. “It’s alright.”
He stares at me like I just enlightened him. It makes me blush.
We keep eating our food and talking.
I can tell that Benson loves hockey and he loves his life at the Hawthorne House. He hasn’t admitted it, but I can just tell by the way he’s talking about them. He’s letting me in on his world, and I’m so glad that we’re doing this instead of sitting in a library. I didn’t know I’d be so interested in hockey, but after this, I really want to see him play.
At some point, Donna takes our plates. The booth has gotten warmer with the sun on it. The diner is half full. Benson is full of stories. He’s lived a lot of life, thanks to hockey. I can’t help but stare at him as he talks. He might be the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. His eyes are hooded and glimmer whenever he looks at me. His nose is large from the side, but from the front, it’s perfect. He still has a boyish jawline, but it’s prominent when he chews. I really want to run my fingers through his hair. And don’t get me started with his lips.
“You have something,” he says, reaching over. I freeze, staring at him. He wipes it off, staring into my eyes. “Got it.”
He leans back in the booth and says, “I did not shut up about hockey this entire time.”
I laugh. “I liked hearing about it.”
He narrows his eyes. “Are you lying?”
I shake my head. “No.”
His eyes look down at my lips and then back up. “Then we might be in more trouble than I thought.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, leaning forward.
He leans forward. “That I didn’t bore you to death.”
“As if,” I tease.
He takes a sip of his water, keeping his eyes on me.
The tingly feeling in my lower belly comes back again.
Chapter 23
Benson
Ihavebeentalkingnonstop about hockey to a girl who has no clue about the sport. I honestly don’t even think she cares. She’s giving me these fucking eyes that I can’t stop staring at. I want to know what she’s thinking, but I can nearly feel it in my bones every time she smiles. The tickle in my chest tells me that this is going in the right direction.
I look at her mouth.
I am going to have to stop doing that.
I look back at my plate.
The waitress comes by with the coffee pot.
