Page 76 of Yours, Unexpectedly

“I used to play.” He nods toward the screen and then looks at me. “Did you know that? They put me on defense because I can skate faster backwards than I can forwards.”

“Holy shit, that’s so hot. I love hockey romance books, but that’s the extent of my hockey knowledge.”

“So, you’ve heard that hockey players know how to handle their sticks?” he smirks.

“Now, sir, whatever could you be talking about?” I mock. “I’m not sure about stick handling, but I do know they are always hoping for that elusive hat trick.”

He grins and moves closer, grabbing the empty ice cream carton and placing it on the coffee table. He brushes his lips over mine, smile barely contained, and whispers, “You’re trouble, Rebecca.” A quick kiss. “Can we spoon? No funny business.” He holds up three fingers. “Scouts honor.”

I kiss him back and then move everything around so I still have my blanket and heating pad, but now I’m laying with enough room for him to slide behind me. His arm comes around my waist and pulls me closer, so my back is tight up against his front. He buries his face in my hair, inhaling deeply before relaxing closer to me.

“I want to take you on a date next week,” he says, voice muffled by my massive amount of curls.

“Okay… That’s—we can do that.” We haven’t been on a real date in town before, and I’m not sure why the thought freaks me out.

“I just want to be able to go out in public with you. Do normal couple things, okay?”

I nod in response and I know he can feel me when his grip tightens. His dick twitches where it rests against my ass and his whole body stiffens, like he can tell I just felt that. I hold back a laugh and reach down, intertwining our fingers.

“Sorry, I can’t help it when your body is pressed up against me like this,” he mutters. “Actually, I’m not sorry. I would have sex with you right here, right now if you wanted.”

I can’t hold the laugh in anymore.

“I’m not joking!” he insists.

I turn my head around so I can kiss him, even in this weird position. “I know you’re not. And I appreciate you for that.”

He nuzzles into me and we spend the rest of the night spooning, giggling at each other, and pretending to watch the hockey game on TV. Entirely too late, we move to my room and pass out, still wrapped up in each other.

Tonight was… not what I was expecting.

And everything about it was absolutely perfect.

“After looking over all of your assessment information, I do believe you have ADHD. You’ve masked it well, and I’m sure that has taken a lot out of you. Let’s look at some of our options moving forward.”

I wasn’t expecting to feel… relieved.

I’ve been stressing over planning the perfect date for Bex. The perfect first date, depending on who you asked. I insisted this was our first real date and we needed to do it up big. Bex, on the other hand, was convinced New York was our first date. I feel like this is something we will continue to argue about for years to come. That thought makes me smile and dig my heels in even harder.

New York was amazing, don’t get me wrong, but it wasn’t us. I have effectively disinherited myself, so that lifestyle is not my everyday anymore. I want this date to reflect more of what our normal life will look like. Really, I just want to be able to walk down a sidewalk and hold her hand, stop and kiss her if I feel like it—the delightfully mundane parts of being with someone.

Pulling into her apartment’s parking lot, I have a spinning feeling in my stomach. I think this is what people describe as butterflies, but I’ve never felt them with anyone else before. Honestly, they’re a bit unsettling and pop up frequently around Bex.

I hop out of the Jeep and climb the stairs up to the girls’ apartment, flowers in hand. I took entirely too long at the local florist picking out which bouquet I was going to bring. The kind older woman who runs it suggested a mix of pink camellias, hyacinth, and white freesia with some greenery sprinkled in. It’s a very impressive bouquet, but now I’m wondering if it’s the right move.

I’m debating dumping the flowers in the planter outside of Bex’s neighbor’s apartment when the door swings open. Luci pops her head out, gives me a wink, and asks, “How much longer are you going to make her wait?”

I inhale deeply through my nose and then lean in conspiratorially. “I’m hoping this is the last first date I ever go on, so give me a minute here.”

She gives me a wide grin and a salute before turning around and closing the door behind her.

“Nope! Not here yet!” I hear her call on the other side of the door.

Taking one more minute to collect myself, I take a few more centering breaths and raise my hand to knock. For the second time, the door swings open before my fist has a chance to connect.

“Can’t a man knock on the door to pick up his date?” False annoyance bleeds into my voice.

“I’m stressed because my boyfriend won’t tell me what we are doing, and I don’t know what to wear!” Bex responds, the annoyance in her voice is all too real. A beat later she processes what I have in my hands and lets out a quiet, “Oh!”

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