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“How old were you?”
“Eight.”
“And you loved it right away?”
I nod. “Yeah. Surest I’ve ever felt about anything. I’m not obsessed with it the way Hart is. His dream would be to only take skates off to sleep and to fu—” I cough, and she smirks. “I likeskating. But my favorite thing about hockey is being part of the team. It’s not like anything else. Hunter and Conor are my best friends, but we’re way closer because we’re teammates too.”
“Did your brother play hockey too?”
I snort. “No. Too lowbrow for him. No one makes business deals between knocking teeth out. He played tennis in college. Golfs now.”
“Lame.”
“Agreed.”
She holds my gaze. The air around us seems to thicken, transparency gaining shape and substance.
Rain keeps coming down as a man’s voice croons about sunlight and rainbows.
Rylan breaks eye contact first, glancing out and startling when she realizes we’ve stopped. That we’vebeenstopped.
She reaches toward her seat belt, fumbling with the buckle. I reach out to help her, my fingers brushing against her knuckles. As soon as we touch, she freezes.
The seat belt unsnaps with a loudclick.
“Thanks,” she says.
“No problem.”
She tugs her sleeves down, covering her hands.
I take a deep breath. “Iamsorry about earlier. Won’t happen again.”
“It’s fine.”
I can’t gauge anything from her tone. If it’sreallyfine or if she’s just saying that.
Another deep breath. “I won’t be around this weekend, but if you’re wanting to have fun… There will be a hockey party next weekend. I can introduce you to a few decent guys, if you want.”
The offer burns like acid on the way out.
But if she’s looking for a hookup, I’d rather it be with a guywho will treat her well. I hear most of the gossip on this campus, stuff Rylan wouldn’t necessarily know.
Instead of responding, she asks, “How long will you be in LA for?”
Rather than tell her the truth—that my dad arranged for my trip to last less than twenty-four hours, I say, “Sorry to disappoint, but I’ll be back for tutoring on Tuesday.”
“I’m not disappointed,” she says. Then opens the door and hops out. “Night, Aidan.”
She’s running through the rain toward her house before I can say “Night” back.
Or ask her what the fucknot disappointedmeans.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
AIDAN
This is even worse than I was expecting.
