Page 157 of The Fake Date Agreement

“Hey.” My eyes drift over his shoulder to find his teammates staring, their mouths hanging open. “Uh…”

He turns around and snorts. “Ignore their ogling. They’ll stop soon. Weren’t you bored? I thought you’d bolt the second practice was over.” He takes a long gulp from his bottle, and I watch his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

“Surprisingly, no. It’s more fun than I thought it would be watching your coach scream at you,” I joke.

One corner of his mouth lifts as he twists the lid back on his bottle, sets it on the ground, and steps off the ice. I watch him curiously as he picks up two long blue pieces of plastic from the side of the rink’s entrance and slips them onto the blades of his skates.

“What are those?”

“Skate guards to protect the blades and stop me from embarrassing myself in front of a beautiful woman.”

My breath hitches as he looks right at me when he speaks. “And how would you embarrass yourself?”

“Trip over my own feet. So you can understand why I’m wearing them.”

“Why don’t you just take the skates off? Practice is over.”

“Not for me. I have to go through a couple of things with some of the guys in a bit.” He leans against the plexiglass and crosses his arms as he looks down at me.

“Captain’s responsibility?”

He nods and points his chin up to the stands. “What were you working on up there?”

I cock my head, confused. “I don’t understand.”

“You had your laptop out.”

“I thought you were focused on practice.”

“And I was.” He pauses, eyes hooded. “Some of the time.”

Our stare extends, and I look away as the tension ramps up between us. “My grad school application. That’s what I was working on.”

Maybe if I wasn’t so frazzled by his heated stare, I might have come up with a lie instead of talking about something I never talk about with anyone.

“You didn’t mention that before.”

“I’m still trying to decide what to do.”

He’s silent for a beat. “Because that future was tied up with your ex?”

My eyes fly to his. “How did you know?”

His lip quirks. “Most of the people in my class going to grad school decided what they’re doing and where they’re going weeks ago. A couple of them, months ago. You seem the sort to have that figured out early rather than later unless your plans have changed.”

After a moment, I nod. “We had a dream. Marc would take over from his dad and be the new attorney in our town, and I would be the new librarian.”

“And was this dream yours or his?”

“Ours. Both of ours.”

Caleb’s gaze is intense and probing. “Then why do I get the impression it’s more his than yours?”

“What makes you think that?”

“You’d have found another grad school instead of me catching you staring into space, so confused I could feel your confusion from the ice.”

I don’t have an answer for him. I don’t even have an answer for me.

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