Page 59 of Something Like That

“Welcome.” A weird warmth slipped through him. “Although, if you want something else, I can go grab it.” He put the tray and the remaining two drinks on the ground at his feet, ready to spring into action. What the fuck was wrong with him?

“No, this is perfect.” As if to prove her point, she took a sip of the tea. Her eyes widened just the slightest bit, and she swallowed quickly. Yeah, it was probably really hot. He probably should have warned her.

He was going to ask if she was okay, but Em pushed to her feet between them. She thrust her latte at Alex, who took it automatically—a total mom move. “I’ve got to go to the bathroom. Be right back.” She hurried out of the row, down the stairs, and disappeared around the corner.

His life had a tendency to move pretty fast, and he was usually pretty good at adapting and going with the flow, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to the workings of a teenage girl. She bounced around from topic to topic and from task to task like she was in a bouncy castle.

Now that the buffer that was Em had disappeared, an uncomfortable awkwardness settled between him and Alex.

His skin felt tight and hot all of a sudden, that buzzy, nervous energy making his muscles twitchy. He glanced around, wanting to look at her, trace the lines of her face with his gaze, but afraid of what she was thinking. Afraid he’d see something he didn’t want to see in her gaze. Disinterest, maybe. Or disappointment.

Fuck, he needed to let go of this shit. It was getting old, and he was tired of feeling this way. Of feeling like everyone was judging him, of being found wanting. It was why he needed to get back on the ice, back with the team. Winning cured everything. Winning would show them he wasn’t a fuck up.

Winning was the only thing that mattered.

To give himself something to do, he reached down and pulled the Americano from the tray. The coffee had cooled slightly, so he took a quick sip. The bitter espresso coated his taste buds, making him feel less fuzzy. Which was probably just his mind playing tricks on him, but whatever.

Unable to resist any longer, he looked over at her. She was staring at the ice, her long, delicate fingers wrapped around her paper cup. She seemed a million miles away.

“Everything okay?” He didn’t know why he asked, because it really was none of his business. He just wanted to know.

She glanced at him and smiled, but it looked forced. “Yeah, just something on my mind, is all.”

“Anything I can help with?”

She shook her head. “No, it’s just something—”

“Shove a bum.” Em, who’d come up on his blindside, gave him a little push in an effort to get him to slide over. She wiggled into the space on his right—a couple of other spectators had taken seats next to him while he was being awkward with the Starbucks—so he had no choice but to slide into her previous seat. “A little farther.” She wiggled a little more, giving him the hint of an elbow, until he slid over all the way.

His hip bumped Alex’s. She gasped. He whipped his head around to look at her. Her mouth—her sweet, luscious mouth—was open in surprise. The need to lean closer, to capture her lips and kiss her senseless rushed through him so fast and so hard, he was surprised he actually managed to stop himself from following through.

“Sorry.” It came out as a mumble. He shifted slightly to his right, so they were no longer touching. And that did not disappoint the hell out of him.

“It’s okay,” she said, the words all breathy. The sound of her voice like that went straight to his cock. The little fucker twitched, wanting nothing more than to rise to attention.

She leaned around him, holding Em’s latte out to her. Her tropical, coconut scent punched him in the nose. He wanted to groan. Either that, or bury his face in her hair and soak it all in. Her arm brushed against his thigh. It was like she’d branded him. His skin burned through his jeans.

An image of her on her knees, her lips wrapped around his cock, slammed into him. Which did nothing to relieve the pressure in his pants.

Down, boy.

He thought about the least sexy things he could imagine. Complex math problems, and trying to name all the state capitals in alphabetical order. A plunge in the icy hydrotherapy tub, and their eighty-year-old high school librarian getting naked…

An image of Alex, wearing naughty librarian glasses and nothing else tried to sneak in, but he pushed it aside before it could take root.

The referee blew the whistle to start the game. Yes, the perfect distraction. He focused on the ice.

The starters lined up for the face off, three forwards from each side at the center line, the two defensemen near the blue line in their defensive zone. The ref dropped the puck and they were off.

The sound of skates cutting across the ice, the slap of sticks against one another, was like a symphony. A light, flying feeling bubbled up in his chest. Now that he’d found the joy in the game again, would he ever get tired of it? It had happened before, when the pressure and the expectations had overwhelmed him.

But now that he knew the triggers, maybe he could avoid it.

Em’s team, the Phantoms, had control of the puck and were cycling it down low. And while the passing was great, they really needed to shoot the puck on net.

“Shoot the puck,” Alex said under her breath. He glanced at her. She was completely absorbed in the game, her gaze following the puck as it slid across the ice from stick to stick.

He turned back to the game just as the Phantoms defenseman flicked a wrist shot from the blue line. The puck sailed through the air, about waist height, heading straight for the goalie.