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“I can get my own, it’s fine.”
Sabrina huffs and rolls her eyes at her friend, smiling up at me. “Ignore her, she doesn’t know how to play nicely with others. Only child thing.”
“Jesus. Okay, I’ll help you though,” Anastasia says, walking off toward the kitchen, dragging Sabrina behind her with her free hand. I jog after them, scooping the empty cups from her grip. “A drink isn’t going to charm me into not being mad about the rink, y’know.”
I can believe that. Nothing about this girl tells me she’s going to be easy to crack, and it’s made this whole rink situation a bit more interesting. “You haven’t even seen how charming I can be yet,” I tease, grinning ear to ear when I catch the corner of her mouth creeping up. “You’re going to be impressed.”
She takes the cups back from my hands and moves in front of me to place them on the counter, getting to work making two drinks. “I’m immune to hockey player charm.”
Robbie wheels his chair to my side and digs me in the leg, mouthingWhat the fuckbehind the girl’s backs with wide eyes. He clears his throat and they both turn to face him. “What about charming assistant hockey coaches?”
“Oh, she’sdefinitelyimmune to those, but I’m not. Hi, I’m Sabrina.”
“Robbie.”
Sabrina elbows Stassie who mumbles a “Hi.”
“This is Stassie. She acts like she’s grumpy but she’s actually very nice.”
“Thanks for coming to my party,” he says, not taking his eyes off her. I don’t know whether to cringe or stand in awe as she flutters her eyelashes at him and giggles.
Unbelievable.
Anastasia has the same blend of confusion and amusement on her face as she looks between our friends. “Brin, I’m going to get into line for the bathroom. Are you coming?” Sabrina’s eyes flick to hers then back to Robbie’s, before shaking her head. “Okay, I’ll meet you back here.”
I hold out a hand to lead her toward the stairs. “Come on, you can use my bathroom.” She looks at my hand once then back up to my face, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “I have a password-protected door and a private bathroom. You can join the line if you want?” I say, pointing toward the people drunkenly draping over the staircase.
She sighs in defeat and drops her hand into my palm, weaving her fingers between mine. “This isn’t me forgiving you.”
“Obviously.”
I navigate us through the crowd, keeping her body close to mine, her free hand resting gently on my waist until we reach the stairs. She walks around me to go first, and I immediately realize letting her go in front of me is a mistake, because as soon as she gets a few steps ahead, I’ve got her ass in my direct vision, swaying side to side as she takes each step.
I usher her in and point toward the bathroom, getting a weird sense of déjà vu watching her after this morning’s antics. At least she’s clothed.Wait, why am I saying it like it’s a good thing?
She exits the bathroom after a couple of minutes, stopping in her tracks when she spots me waiting for her on my bed. I hold up my hands defensively. “I didn’t want you to get lost.”
“It’s fine.” She folds her arms across her chest and tilts her head to the side in a way that almost looks playful. “I’m disappointed you’re here; I was going to snoop.”
It’s nice to see a different side to her after the one I met this afternoon. Not that there’s anything wrong with showing emotion, I just prefer to see her more relaxed.
For the first time, I get a real look at what she’s wearing. Tight leather pants that look like they were freaking painted on, and a black lace corset, showing her body in a way I’m not sure I even know how to describe. What I’m saying but not saying is she’s hot, and maybe getting to know her a little better won’t be a bad thing.
“Don’t let my presence deter you from snooping,” I joke. “I’ll wait right here.”
The sound of her heels clicking echoes around the room as she walks slowly toward my desk, not taking her eyes off me. Her fingers travel across the pile of biology books littering my desk. “What’re you studying?”
“Sports medicine, you?”
“Business.” She picks up a picture from my desk, analyzing it thoroughly before looking back at me. “West Coast kid?”
“Mountains.”
“Wyoming?” she asks, putting the photograph down and picking up the one next to it.
“Close.” I stand and walk over to the desk, taking the picture from her hand and replacing it with one of me and Robbie at our first hockey game when we were five. “Colorado. Eagle County. You?”
“I’m from Seattle. That’s Vail right? Rich kid hockey star from Eagle County is a bit predictable, isn’t it?” I sit on the desk so we’re at eye level, folding my own arms to match her guarded stance. “A little bit cliché?”
