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I skated by Sebastian on my way to the net and flashed a platonic smile at him. He returned it, but when I reached the net and glanced at him again, his face was back to its usualblankness.
I was a little put off by Kingston’s particular brand of play. Sure, everyone was intense on the ice, they had to be, but Kingston took it to a whole new level. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him smile during a game. Not even during the calm lulls. He was always too tuned into the action.
He was also the same during practice. The other guys worked hard during practices to improve their skills, but they also had fun—laughing and joking around as they shot at the goals and practiced their stick handling. Kingston just stood off to the side, watching over everybody and then bringing his a-game when it was his turn to go through the drills.
During our extra practice with Mason, he had shown a smile or two, he had even cracked a joke, but now there was nothing. The only time I’d seen him visibly enjoying himself on the ice was during the charity practice he brought me to.
As I watched him now, barely talking to anybody as both teams warmed up, I wondered if he wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.
Chapter 12
I sat out in the hallway, humming along to my music and nodding at teammates and stadium workers as they passed. I got a few weird looks at my mood, but most nodded back.
Today was the day. I felt amazing, the sun was shining, and I was playing at the Snow Globe Arena like I had every week for weeks now. Any worries I had floated away.
Usually at this time, I would be meditating, juggling, or concentrating on getting my head in the game. But today I woke up ready to dominate. The second I walked into the arena, I knew what was going to happen. I just neededone thing.
Tommy came jogging up the hallway just in time, his head on a swivel, searching. I jumped up, and he stopped in front of me. “Did you get it?”
He held out a plastic bag, and I looked inside to see an assortment of nail polish. I squealed and hugged him. “Thank youso much!”
He looked startled when I released him but smiled tentatively back at me. “No problem, Miss Warren. Is there anything else I can dofor you?”
“Nope. That’s it.”
He wished me a good game and headed off. He was one of the arena workers, and I had asked him to go out to the nearest store and grab me some polish. I couldn’t go myself because I didn’t want to get mobbed. So I was eternally grateful to him for getting a great selection of colors. I had half a mind to dedicate this game to him.
I sorted through the bag as I made my way to the lounge area. By the time I made it, I had settled on the hot pink polish and was shaking it likea maniac.
The locker was half full and chaotic as usual. Guys were in their workout clothes as they lounged around, some in a light stretch, others taping their sticks.
“Whatcha got there, Warren?” Ethan Jones asked. He had seen me suddenly jump up out of my skin and excitedly wave down Tommy thirty minutes ago.
I held up the pink polish so he could get a good look, and his face turned incredulous.
“Nail polish. That’s what you had the kid go get?”
“What? I’ve got to look fabulous, Jones. Not that you would know anything about that, but I could help you out. Want me to paint your nails after Ido mine?”
He looked horrified, and the guys around him laughed. Beside him, Sebastian gave me a confused look, probably wondering why I thought it was a good time to paint my nails. I just smiled at him and took a seat inmy cubby.
Not wasting time, I carefully applied the first coat to my nails then blew on them to dry. The guys all looked at me weirdly. I ignored them. The second coat went on smoothly, and just as I finished my last pinkie, a few more guys entered the locker room, Mason among them.
“Holy shit, Riles! Are you painting your nails?” he askedexcitedly.
“Yep, youwant in?”
He didn’t hesitate and sat next to me, hands held at the ready. I forwent my topcoat and handed Mason the bag of nail polish. Like a homing missile, he found the neon green polish and handed it to me. It was the same color as his Jeep. Laughing at him under my breath, I shook up the bottle. Mason was the only person I knew who had a lucky color.
Not that he needed the luck; lately, he was so on fire that I was surprised the rink didn’t melt under his skates. And it wasn’t hard to guess why. Although Drew had been back in California for a week to get ready to move, their relationship was strong, and any second thoughts Mason had about hooking up with Drew were out the window.
“What the hell, Frey? You too?” Berg asked, looking like he wanted to slap the polish out of my hands with his half-taped stick.
“Yeah, I didn’t think that was your color,” Jones mocked, and another chuckle rolled throughthe room.
To be fair, Jones had a point. As much as it was his lucky color, it did not agree with his skin tone. However, I was not one to mock superstition, so I got to work.
“Don’t underestimate the power of the polish, guys,” Mason warned the guys as I was busy painting. Unlike on my nails, I only did a few fingers on each of Mason’s hands.
