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I wanted a break from all that tonight. Or, at least, as much of one as possible.
My costume is hardly deep cover, but at least it’s something of a respite from the celebrity status that’s shifted from being a boon to a burden lately.
I shrug the hesitancy off, though. This girl doesn’t go to Ridley, at least not yet. I’m just going to have to hope that she isn’t familiar enough with the hockey team to put two and two together and realize who I really am just from my name.
“Liam,” I answer.
“You’re a student here?” she asks.
The question rises my spirits. She doesn’t recognize me.
It’s not often that I’m able to interact with a girl who doesn’t know I’m Liam Newcastle, NHL-bound college hockey star. It can be hard to be yourself and connect with someone when they already have a totally preconceived notion of you.
“Yeah,” I answer. “Junior. Where do you go to school now?”
“Let’s do something else,” she says, an unexpected non-response that throws me through a loop.
“Huh?”
“Like you said, there’s nothing less interesting than talking about ourselves, right? I’m more in the mood toforgetmy current life right now.”
Her words reach out and wrap around me. Even though I just met this girl, learned her name just a few brief minutes ago, knowing that she’s feeling the same way I am tonight makes it feel like we’re the only two people here.
The scenes around us seem to blur in my vision, the sounds around us seem muffled—the only thing I see and hear clearly is the girl in front of me.
“I know how you feel,” I admit.
Something flashes in her eyes; maybe the same recognition I just felt, the recognition that, tonight at least, we’re kindred spirits. “Would it be pathetic to admit that I’ve spent the last couple months doing hardly anythingbutpretending I’m someone else,somewhereelse?”
A surge of protectiveness blasts through me. I just wish I could dig into what’s made her feel that way and do something about it. But, instead, I respect her wishes and don’t push her to reveal any more than she wants to right now.
“No way,” I say. “Sometimes you need to imagine what you wish your life could be, before you can start taking steps to make it a reality.”
“Very wise,” she answers with a smile.
I laugh. “Zoey, I promise you, that’s the first time anyone’s ever called mewisein my life.”
“Maybe it’s a side of yourself that only comes out around certain people.”
I lean closer towards her, just a few centimeters. The air between us feels dense and charged with electricity. “Maybe it only comes out aroundyou.”
Her cheeks flush a scarlet red, a deeper and bolder shade this time. If she’s able to bring out a side of me rarely, if ever, seen, then I wonder what sides ofherI could bring out.
She leans towards me in her seat—but, suddenly, the leg of the old wooden bar stool she’s sitting on snaps.
She tips forward, but with lightning-quick reflexes, I catch her in my arms.
White-hot heat snakes through me from every point where our skin makes contact. The softness and warmth of her body overwhelms my senses. I breathe in the scent of her lavender shampoo. It’s so much more intoxicating than the whiskey that I’ve had a couple sips of.
My heart pumps as I savor the feeling of her body pressed against mine. Her weight feels so fucking good in my arms, her soft curves fitting the hard planes of my muscles so perfectly, as if they were matching puzzle pieces.
It seems like the air crackles with heat around us, and I could swear that if a drop of water fell on any part of my skin currently touching Zoey, it would sizzle and evaporate.
Strands of her dark hair swish forward from her momentum, grazing against my bare chest. It feels so silky and soft, and I can’t stop myself from imagining how a thick handful of it would feel wrapped tightly around my fist.
Our eyes lock, just short inches from each other. Her clear, blue eyes are like pristine freshwater lakes. My gaze snaps down to her lips, full and tantalizingly pink, a light coating of lip gloss glimmering from the low overhead lighting.
“I … I think you can put me down now,” she says.
