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My fingers clench around soft material that is shoved into my hands. I look down at the white shirt. “What is this?”

He squirms under my confused, yet watchful stare. And if I’m not imagining it, I think I can see traces of redness creeping up his cheeks. “My jersey.”

My heart skips a beat before starting to race rapidly. “And why would I need your jersey?”

“God,” he groans in frustration. “Can you be like a normal girl and just take the damn thing?”

Simply raising my brows, I stare at him, waiting for my answer.

“Okay.” He nods. “Yesterday, after I got home, I was thinking about all of that. How Sanders invited you and shit. I didn’t want you to wear his jersey, and he would do that just to fuck with my mind, so I came here and brought you this.”

“Why should I wear anyone’s jersey?” I frown at his admission, completely confused. “I have my own clothes, you know.”

Derek looks at me, looking for god only knows what, but when he doesn’t find it, he looks in the air muttering, “This girl...”

“Derek?” I shift my weight from one leg to the other waiting for his answer.

He looks at me, and for a few long seconds, we simply stare at each other. “Team colors? School spirit and all that shit.” He relaxes a little. “Take your pick.”

I narrow my eyes at him, not knowing if that’s the real reason, or if he’s hiding something.

“Okay.” I nod, watching his smile spread as he takes one step closer to me.

His hands are still cupping mine. “I should get going now, or coach will have my ass.”

“You definitely should go then,” I agree. “And I should go back inside. I still have to blackmail Brook into going with me.”

Neither of us moves away.

He’s in my personal space, so close that his wide frame is blocking my view of the front yard. His clean, masculine scent surrounds us, and it smells so nice all I want to do is get on the tips of my toes and bury my nose in his neck and inhale him.

“Going?” I remind him with a slight tremor in my voice. If he doesn’t leave soon, I’m not sure I’ll be able to resist doing just that. Talk about being freaky.

“Right.” He smiles. “See you later.”

“See you later,” I take one step back. But before I can even attempt to move a muscle, his lips are down on mine. Hard and fast. And then he’s gone while I keep standing in front of my front door looking at his retreating car.

The door opens behind me. I turn around, preparing some explanation, only to find Brook leaning against the frame looking at me with a big, goofy smile. “So you and King making out on your front porch in broad daylight?” she asks with one raised brow. “I didn’t expect that from you, Lia.”

“Ohh, shut up.”

* * *

“You were right.” I glance quickly at Jeanette before returning my gaze to the ice. “This is fast.”

“And violent,” Brook grumbles next to me, but I think she secretly likes it. “Get that fucker, you dumbhead!”

You see what I mean? She’s got so into it in no time, blending with the roaring crowd around us.

I, on the other hand, am transfixed with the movement on the ice. There is no stopping, and everything happens in a heartbeat.

One moment they are standing right in front of us—as it turns out Max got us tickets right there in the first row, he even got one for Brook although she never said she’s coming—and in the other they are on the other side of the rink, chasing that black thingy, (I think it was called puck or buck or something like that) all over the ice.

A long time ago, somewhere in the first ten minutes of first period and now we were in third, I stopped counting the number of times somebody crashed into the plexiglass or fell on the floor. It happens so much I’m surprised they can still stand on their skates, much less skate from one part of the rink to other in a few short seconds.

“Yeah, he is kind of slow tonight. I don’t understand why,” Mr. Sanders laughs at Brook’s outburst.

I still can’t believe Max didn’t tell me his Dad was coming with us! He is so going to hear me later. I don’t know who was more surprised when we met at the school parking lot—Mr. Sanders to see Brook and me there, the two of us when we saw Max’s exact, although older, replica, or Max when he entered the rink to do a few warm-up laps and saw Brook sitting next to me.

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