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The crowd moves like he’s Moses parting the Red Sea. As he makes his way to the back of the room, people slap him on the shoulder and vie for his attention like a celebrity is in their midst. Most of the patrons tonight have no idea about the phone call he received this afternoon. But they know he’s on his way to the big leagues regardless of the timing. It’s evident in the reverent way they treat him, both the guys and girls. He isn’t just a starting winger on our college hockey team and the leading scorer in the league. He’s a star, destined for greatness. The guys want to be him. And the women want a piece of him.
I move around the table to block the cake from his view. Oakley steps up beside me with Chase to her left. His fingers brush my arm where they lie, dangling across my bestie’s shoulders. The two of them are always connected these days. It’s like they have to be touching at all times. It’s as annoying as it is sweet.
“Hey,” Ollie says, his eyes going to his sister first.
Oakley’s smile turns even more brilliant. She steps forward to wind her arms around his neck. He hugs her back.
“I’m so proud of you,” Oakley whispers next to his ear. “And I’m gonna need one of those jerseys you promised me.”
Ollie vowed to get Oakley a jersey with his number on it as soon as he joined the league.
“You got it,” he says, squeezing his sister before stepping back.
“And I’m gonna need some tickets”—Chase fist-bumps Ollie—“and a private jet to fly up to watch you play.”
Ollie chuckles at his longtime friend. “Tickets I can do. The private jet … you’re on your own with that one. My signing bonus wasn’t that big.”
“Bullshit,” Mike coughs from across the table while shielding the sound with his hand.
I don’t know exactly how much Ollie was offered, but there’s no doubt it’s money that’s beyond all our wildest dreams.
Ollie tips his chin to acknowledge Mike. He continues to greet his teammates around the table. It’s another minute before those sapphire eyes find me. A corner of his mouth tips up into a cocky grin. I lean in to hug him, and his familiar scent engulfs my senses. Ollie always smells clean with a hint of spice. Classically good. I inhale against his neck.
“Are you smelling me again, Mads?” he asks with a hint of humor in his voice.
“I can’t help it. You always smell so good.”
“You know that’s weird, right?”
I can sense the smirk on his face even if I can’t see it.
I shrug unapologetically. “No one has ever accused me of being unoriginal and following the crowd.”
He chuckles. “Nope. You are definitely one of a kind.”
He leans closer to my ear, and I bask in the undivided attention from the hockey stud. I feel more than one set of envious eyes on us right now.
“Are you behaving tonight?”
Ollie’s protective tendencies over his sister usually extend to me as well. But tonight, his tone is flirty rather than overbearing. I pull back until our faces are inches apart and try to ignore the tingling in my lower stomach that’s always there when I’m close to him.
If Mike’s always had a crush on me, I’ve probably always had a secret crush on Ollie. But he’s never looked at me as anything other than his little sister’s best friend. And I’ve never desired to push things, afraid I’d upset the delicate balance of our friendship. Sometimes, the dream is greater than reality—or at least, that’s what I always tell myself.
“Never. What’s the fun in behaving?” I tilt my head coyly. “And I’m gonna need one of those jerseys too.”
He winks. “You got it.” His attention shifts to the table, where he spots the cake sitting behind me.
“Surprise!” I throw my hands in the air.
“I just got the call this afternoon.” He looks at Oakley. “How did you have time to get me a cake?”
“It was all Mads. She insisted. And then she used her charm on the woman at the bakery until she agreed to stay late to get it done.”
“Not true,” I counter. I put my arm around Oakley and pull her closer. “It was both of us. We can’t have a proper celebration without cake.”
“Somehow, I think that cake might be more for you than for me. I know how you feel about sweets,” he states.
I innocently place my hand on my chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
