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“On a perfect night, I’d have a game—and we’d win, of course.”
“Of course. A game and a hat trick?”
“I’ll always be happy with a hat trick.”
“And after?” she asks.
“I’d go home. With pizza—olives optional.” This makes her grin. And her smile makes warmth spread through my chest. “And sitting on the couch in sweats watching footage or TV.”
Something I’ve done almost every night with Felix since I moved in. He and I have fallen into a pretty easy routine. We don’t ride to practice together but hang out at night. Watching Sports Center, while he also reads a book. In the mornings, we have coffee and protein. It’s almost … domestic.
So much so that I was almost tempted to take him up on his offer and stay. But I won’t be a burden, and I know from experience, the longer time goes on, the more likely this will be the case. Plus, I have an even better place to move into with the best location I could ask for.
Do I still think it’s a bad idea to move next door to Parker? Probably. But I find that I just don’t care. I like the idea of being closer to her, and I’m not going to examine it too hard.
“Any particular show you binge to unwind?” Parker asks.
“Downton Abbey.”
Parker laughs so hard she fumbles her phone. I zip forward, catching it before it hits the ice. The phone has a sturdy case—a sturdypinkcase. Because of course it does.
When we were younger, there was one shade she used to insist was called Parker Pink. The memory makes me smile now.
I hand her back the phone, our fingers brushing. She’s still laughing, and the sound of it loosens me up even more.
“Downton Abbey,Logan?” she says. “Really?”
“Can’t a man likeDownton Abbey?”
“A man can absolutely likeDownton Abbey. I just didn’t expectyouto like it.” She pauses. “Do you even know what the show is about?”
“A woman named Abby? Who lives down … ton?”
Parker smacks my arm, but she’s grinning. “Logan! You’re the worst. You know that?”
“I do.”
She messes with her phone for a moment, not looking at me. I allow my gaze to fall on her lips, thinking. Too much thinking. It’s like Parker mentioning not kissing has everything in me laser focused only on that.
I reallyamthe worst.
She looks up, and I’m glad I’m not still watching her mouth. “For the next questions, how about we try with you skating backwards and me following you.”
I pick up speed before spinning to face Parker. She has no trouble keeping up with me.
“So, you still skate?” I ask.
She rolls her eyes. “Obviously. I stopped competing years ago. But I get out here when I can.”
“Do you miss it?”
“Figure skating?” She makes a face. “Not really. I never wanted to be a figure skater. Though Iamcompetitive, so once I got into it, I was all in.”
I remember seeing Parker come home from practice, exhausted but glowing and happy. Every so often, we’d be at the rink at the same time, but I wasn’t super into watching figure skating then.
Now, I wish I had. I wish I’d paid attention to her practicing on the other side of the rink while we were lacing up. I wish I’d gone with Brandon to see her compete. He invited me a few times. It was obvious his parents made him go, and it wasn’t where I wanted to spend my time.
Meanwhile Parker was at every one of our games that I can remember, cheering and trash talking and wearing Brandon’s jersey, screaming for us both.
