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“He was staring at your ass while you were on the treadmill a couple days ago. I caught him, but he convinced me that I was hallucinating the whole thing. I was seriously questioning my eyesight fora minute.”
“Nah, you’re all good,” Mason said, obviously enjoying this moment. “He’s always staring at her.”
I looked up inquestion.
Sebastian met my eyes andshrugged.
“Way to be subtle, dude,” I hissed and elbowed him inthe side.
“Not like you’re any better, Riles,” Mason said.
I whipped my head toward Mason and stabbed my finger at him. “That’s defamation. Or libel. Orwhatever.”
He smirked at me from his safe position onthe couch.
Oh,it was on.
I pushed up off the couch … and was immediately yanked back down by Sebastian. “You can’t kill him yet,” he said. “I have to go kick his virtual ass and claim my title aschampion.”
I pouted but let him wiggle out fromunder me.
He took over Jones’ spot, and Jones joined me on the couch. I immediately perked up and reached for my bag on the floor. Digging around, I pulled out two bottles of nail polish. “You ready, Jones?”
He sputtered and started to protest. “Wait. I wasjust kid—”
“Ah, ah, ah. I brought blue and white as requested. There’s no backingout now.”
He glared at me for a moment, but when I didn’t give in to his captaincy presence, herelented.
“Fine but make them look good.” He thrusted his hands toward me, turning to watch the television like he couldn’t bear witness to the defiling of his precious nails.
I gave the bottles a quick shake then started coating his nails in the first layer of light blue.
“I assume you guys are keeping this, whatever it is, from the press?”
“You assume correctly. Secret and very casual. If it ever came out, our careers would be done, and I’m not ready to give up hockey. I’m just getting started and hopefully have a lot of time left in the game. And Sebastian has more than a few good seasons left in him, so this is staying casual. It has to.”
Jones hummed, and I looked up in time to see his eyes flicker toward Sebastian, a weird expression on his face. “Right. Who would want to give up their career inthe NHL?”
“Exactly.”
I finished the second coat of blue then fished out a brush from the bag. The nail art brush was precise and steady as I carefully drew snowflakes on Jones’s middle fingers as accents. When I was finished, I brushed on a quick topcoat and sat back to admire my work.
“Not bad, Warren. I’m keeping these for as long as possible. And when we crush our next game, that little reporter bastard will eat his words.”
“Hell yeah!”
“Riles, I kicked your boytoy’s ass. You up next?” Mason asked.
“Thanks, but I get my ass kicked enough by you without an audience.I’m good.”
Ethan clapped. “Rematch time.”
“Don’t mess up your nails. They’re still wet,” I yelped as he sprang from the couch and took the controller from Sebastian. He better not fuck up my masterpieces.
“I’m never playing Frey again,” Sebastian grumbled and slumpedbeside me.
“Aw. Don’t feel too bad. Mason’s a video game nerd. He’s been playing Mortal Kombat since he was six. Here, do you want me to do your nails? It always cheers me up,” I teased, fully expecting himto refuse.
