"What if you never had to move?"
She blinks. Then she hits my shoulder with the heel of her hand, not hard, just enough to ground us both. "You're being weird again."
"I know. Just say you won’t move out."
"We'll talk about it later." But she's not quite meeting my eyes, and her cheeks are pink, and she's already walking away, phone out, back to work. Back to being professional, back to filming Kuznetsov run edge drills on the far end of the ice.
I watch her go, my heart feeling like it’s two sizes too big for my chest. Today has been a shit show of epic proportions, but at least I’ve got one thing.
I’m going to make Mollie my girlfriend.
Chapter Eighteen
Mollie
Like someone suddenly hits a button on a factory line, my work life starts up, jolting me into a week of frenzied meetings and on-ice filming sessions. It feels weird. Most of the summer, I only worked four or five hours a day. And most of those days included seeing the handsome captain who makes my heart beat faster.
By Friday afternoon, I’m tired. Team management is hyping up Konstantin Kuznetsov and wants every TikTok to be about him, getting fans excited to see a new face on the ice this season. But my shoulders are drooping, my legs throbbing, my head feeling full to bursting with info.
I get a text from Alex, who has saved himself in my phone as ICE KING.
ICE KING
Want to go on a date with me?
My heart starts pounding, my tiredness forgotten. The fact that he even asked me out is shocking. The first time, he shut me down hard.
So yeah. Obviously, I’m in. But I wonder what changed for him? What made being seen in public with me suddenly worth it?
me
Sure. When?
ICE KING
Be ready at seven. Wear one of your little dresses.
Tonight? Oh god. Am I nervous?
My mind spins as I head home. Well, to Alex’s house. Not my actual home, no matter what he said to me earlier. I’m still trying to wrap my head around demand that I not move out as I find Gordie’s leash and take him for a walk.
Gordie looks up at me with an expression of mild sympathy.
"Don't look at me like that," I tell him. "I'm fine."
I’m just going on a date with Alex Thorne, captain of the Seattle Havoc. And if Beck finds out about it, he’ll have a coronary. No big deal.
A date. What does that mean in Alex’s vocabulary? It could be literally anything. It could mean a museum visit. It could mean bowling. It could mean he's taking me to some extremely exclusive underground supper club that requires an elaborate secret knock and a blood oath to eat.
By six-thirty, I've landed on a short blue dress, a soft cream sweater, and my white Converse. Comfortable, but not sloppy. Cute, but not trying too hard.
Alex is waiting at the bottom of the stairs when I come down. He’s dressed up just a little, dark jeans, a heather gray T-shirt, and a black Havoc hoodie that makes his blue eyes pop. He could be taking me on aprivate jet or to an arcade, it’s impossible to tell from his clothing.
“You look amazing,” he tells me.
I blush. “Thanks. You do too. It’s rare that I see you out of sweatpants or hockey gear.”
His eyes crinkle. “Thought I would do the damn thing. You only get a first date once, right?”
