Lunch is leftovers. He rants about a class, waving his fork like a weapon. I listen, hanging on every word, and when a piece of hair falls into his eyes, I brush it back without thinking.
His breath catches. My hand stays exactly where it is. Eventually, I drop it and shove a piece of sandwich into my mouth to cover the panic.
Smooth, Artemis. Really smooth.
Xavier stares at me for a long beat, wheels turning behind his eyes. I both hate and love when he thinks around me. I want to climb into his brain and get to know every thought that crosses his mind.
“You know…” He puts his pen down and levels me with a stare filled with insecurity and questions. “You don’t have to stay here all day. I know you’re busy.”
I arch a brow. “And leave you unsupervised?”
“You think I’m going to go through all your secret drawers?”
“I think you’re likely to fall down the stairs to your death.”
He grunts. “I’m not a toddler.”
“You tripped over your own shoes this morning.”
“That was an accident.” He jabs his pen at me.
“Which is exactly what toddlers say.”
He throws a napkin at me. I catch it without looking. He goes pink in the cheeks again. And just like that, pink might be my new favorite color.
A little while later, he shuts his laptop and stretches, the hem of his shirt rising just enough to ruin my sanity a little bit more.
“Wolves have a game tomorrow.” His voice is casual, buthis tone is a smidge too careful, too cautious, it sets off a warning bell somewhere in the back of my brain.
My pulse punches upward. It’s cute he thinks I haven’t studied his game schedule. I know he came to watch one of my games, but I’m not sure I’m there yet. That’s… a lot of people, a potentially very public display of affection. I school my face into something neutral. “A game.”
He nods, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He’s nervous, hopeful, clearly trying not to be in the way he’s sitting, arm slung over the back of the chair next to him like he’s totally at ease.
“You want me there?”
He shrugs. He looks to be trying for nonchalant and failing miserably. “It’s always nice having someone to look for in the stands.”
It hits me somewhere low. I take a slow breath, my rational mind leaving my body on the exhale. “I can come.”
His smile ignites, jumping straight to full wattage. This man is pure sunlight. It slams into me like a body check against the boards. “Yeah?”
“If I’m free,” I add, because I’m a coward and a fool. I’m absolutely, positively not free. I have four thousand different things to do tomorrow, but I can’t extinguish the hope in his eyes when it was me that put it there.
He rolls his eyes, but the smile stays. “Right. If you’re free.”
I look at him, really look, and there it is again, a tug in my chest that feels suspiciously like surrender. “Text me the time.” I know the time. It’s the same time every hockey game ever starts.
He arches a brow, calling me out. “Because hockey is infamous for that changing start time.”
I roll my eyes at him now. “Sometimesit changes depending on the day.” The argument feels flimsy on my tongue.
But for a moment—a long, risky moment—it feels like the floor between us has tipped. Like we’re teetering on the edge of something neither of us can take back. Something I’m not sure I’d stop even if I could. “I’ll make sure I’m there.”
CHAPTER 33
Artemis
I’m not a blend in and go unnoticed kind of guy. Thankfully, most of the fans around the rink don’t pay attention to me. A few people stare for long moments before they shake their heads like they must be wrong.
