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“It’s like you refuse to voice even a shred of negativity; otherwise it makes you a bad person. Or you feel like you need to be eternally grateful for being born wealthy and gifted.” He wraps his arm around me, his lips gently brushing mine as he strokes his hand down my bare arm. “Just feel what you feel. It’s okay.”
I blink to keep the tears at bay, but they’re threatening to spill over. And not because I’m ashamed by everything I’ve confessed.
It’s the undeniable awareness that I’m developing feelings for this guy.
“I…” I take a breath, attempting to steady my voice. “I’ve never met anyone I felt comfortable sharing all that with.” I peer into his bottomless blue eyes, always floored by how vivid they are. “I don’t feel like you judge me. About anything. Ever.”
“I don’t.”
“Do you feel like I judge you?”
“Never,” he says simply.
Then he visibly gulps, and I know precisely how he feels.
This is fucking terrifying.
Ryder rolls us over so that he’s on his back and I’m draped over his bare chest. He runs his fingers along my naked skin, from my shoulder to my tailbone, before resting his palm on my hip. I shiver from his touch.
“Gisele,” he says.
“Mmmm?”
“Are we dating now?”
A smile tickles my lips. I rise slightly on my elbow and gaze down at him. He’s biting his lip and it’s adorable.
“Yeah. I think we are.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
GIGI
The world is scary sometimes
I SNEAK OUT OF RYDER’S HOTEL ROOM AT AN UNGODLY HOUR because I’m terrified the Briar men’s bus will show up early and somehow Case will see us.
I’m going to have to tell him eventually, I know that. I just hate the idea of hurting him. We were together almost two years. There’s history there.
I assumed Ryder and I would hook up a few times and then it would end. Case would be none the wiser. Never even need to know. But Ryder and I can’t keep hiding anymore. It’s been months now. Which floors me, because it feels like I’ve known him forever. I can’t remember a time when one of his drugging kisses didn’t fog up my brain.
We win our afternoon game, remaining undefeated thus far this season. Then we have an hour to grab an early dinner before going to watch the men play. I haven’t seen any of their games since Ryder and Case went camping in the middle of the road. They’ve racked up four consecutive wins since then, and from what I’ve heard, they’ve been an unstoppable force, but this is my first time experiencing it in person.
Right off the bat, I see the difference. Especially with those two. They’re gelling like I’ve never seen before, a deadly attack squad with Will serving as the third forward. Beckett and Demaine are the d-men, the pair of them also on fire.
“Oh God,” Cami groans. “He has such soft hands.”
She’s talking about Beckett. It’s true—he doesn’t have the speed of Case or Ryder, but man, the ease with which he wields that stick…
“He’s magnificent,” she sighs.
“Have you still not hooked up with him?” Whitney says in amusement.
“No!” Cami whines. “Can you believe this? It’s unacceptable.”
The score is tied 1–1 for most of the game, until midway through the third period, the craziest play I’ve ever seen goes down.
Case takes a hit from his opponent, and as he goes falling to the ice, he manages to tip the puck. And Ryder, who just got checked himself and is in the process of spinning around from the impact, somehow manages to scoop the puck, do nearly a complete 360, and stuff the puck in between the goalie’s leg pad and blocker.
Goal.
The entire rink loses it, even the home crowd. Because that was truly the coolest thing on the entire planet. There’s an explosion of cheers and hollers as my teammates and I jump to our feet screaming our lungs out. An amazed and ecstatic Ryder thrusts both arms over his head just as Case throws his own arms around him. Flashbulbs go off, and I suspect that iconic victory pose is going to be blasted all over the sports blogs tomorrow.
“God, when he smiles…” Whitney says, shivering.
I realize she’s admiring Ryder, who skates past the plexiglass and tips his head in our direction. I told him where we were sitting, and although I don’t know if he sees me, the devastatingly handsome grin he flashes the stands sure feels like it’s for me.
Five minutes later, the final buzzer goes off and Briar wins 2–1.
“Come on. Let’s go wait for the boys,” Cami says, hopping to her feet. “We gotta drag them out to celebrate.”
We follow the people in our row toward the end of the aisle, but it’s slow going. And once we get there, we join another line inching its way to the bottom of the bleachers. I take a step, then stop abruptly when Cami stops, which causes the person behind to bump into me. I glance over to apologize.
