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I snort at her comment. “Donuts? Seriously. You don’t even eat them.”

“I love them. I just don’t eat them.”

“Wouldn’t that make Drake the donut in this situation? You want him, but you won’t eat him.”

She laughs, smacking the wheel. “Good one, Bex.”

“You should try Drake’s donut. Maybe you’ll like his frosting.”

She snorts. “Damn, Bex, look at you. Preston has made you a dirty little skank.”

We laugh uncontrollably, until my stomach hurts and I’m gasping for air. She’s right about Preston changing me. He’s so bad sometimes, and I want to do every bad thing with him.

I grab the bag of Cheetos on the floor, stuffed inside my bag. I tear the package open, taking a handful of cheesy goodness, and hold out the bag to Taylor. “Want one? I hear Cheetos have lots of nutritional value.”

She shakes her head. “You’ve been misinformed. They’re all carbs and chemicals.”

I show her the bag. “Look, it says made with real cheese.”

She giggles. “Right. If you so say. And saturated fat and who knows what else. Why are you eating those things?”

“You can’t go on a road trip without proper snacks.”

She shrugs. “I’m good. I got one tasty donut waiting for me in Boston.”

We break out into a fit of laughter, cracking jokes about the guys all the way to Boston.

We enter the rink and find seats closest to the Strickland Senators bench. Preston still has no idea I’m here. I can’t wait to see the look on his face.

“It’s cold as a witch’s tit in this place.” Taylor zips her North Face jacket and shivers. “How can you be so comfortable in here?”

“I’m used to it.”

“I don’t think I could ever adapt to freezing my ass off. I prefer sunshine and margaritas by the pool.”

“That’s because you grew up in California. If you were raised in Philly, you would be used to the cold.”

“I’ve lived in Philly for the last three winters. I doubt I will ever get used to it.”

“You got your early acceptance letter to UC Berkeley. You’ll be back to warmer climates in no time.”

She frowns. “I’m gonna miss you next year.”

My sadness mirrors hers. “I’ll miss you, too, Tay. But we have to grow up and become adults.”

“I am an adult,” she says. “But not like a real adult. I just look like one.”

I chuckle at her silliness. “I don’t want things to change.”

“Me either.” She pats my arm and nods in the direction of the players skating onto the ice. “Maybe you’ll end up with Preston in whatever city selects him.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice?” I smile at the thought of spending the rest of my life with Preston.

Even though it hasn’t been that long, I have a gut feeling about Preston and me. We’re going to make it. I just know it.

“You could be a hockey wife.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me. “That would be fun.”

“I can’t follow him around from city to city. If you rely on a man for everything, you won’t have anything if he walks away. I’m not saying Preston will leave me but anything can happen. I have to at least get my foot in the door at a sports management agency or do something sports related. Otherwise, my four years of college will be a complete waste.”

“You have a very hunky admirer waiting for you to notice him.” Taylor points at the glass.

A very shocked Preston stands on the ice, his gloved hand pressed to the Plexiglas, lips parted. I wave, and the corners of his mouth turn up into a smile. He tilts his head to the side, gesturing for me to meet him where the players exit the ice.

“I’ll be right back,” I tell Taylor.

Preston waits for me, the door propped open, dressed in full gear. He pulls out his mouth guard and says, “What are you doing here? I thought you were staying home and hanging out with Taylor.”

“I am with Taylor. Just not at home.”

“I can’t believe you drove all the way up here. It’s a long ride to only stay the night.”

“I wanted to give you a good luck kiss.” I lean into him, pressing my chest to his, and take his bottom lip into my mouth.

He parts my lips with his tongue, palming the back of my head with his glove.

“Young lady, what are you doing here?” My dad’s voice pulls me from my Preston induced coma.

Preston straightens when he sees my dad and says, “Coach. I was just…”

“You were just practicing, Parker. Get your ass back out there and stop kissing my daughter.”

“You got it, Coach.” He winks at me, and then he skates off.

“Hey, Dad.” I give him a sheepish wave, hoping he doesn’t yell at me. “I thought it would be a nice surprise since this is Preston’s last year on the team and your first year as head coach. Plus, Boston isn’t super far.”

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