Page 69 of The Fake Date Agreement

“As have I.” Javier claps my arm and skates away, leaving me alone.

So have I, but that was only because she was trying to get rid of me.

Practice goes as well as it can when all I can think about is Tobie watching me with a vibrating egg inside her.

Which is to say, fucking shit.

At one point, Coach recognizes that all his screaming in my face isn’t penetrating. The screaming has an effect until I glanceover at Tobie, sitting on her own, knees pressed primly together, and then I’m distracted all over again.

That’s okay. I can practice on my own later.

At the end of practice, when Tobie gets up and gathers her bag to leave without having spoken to anyone but Reid and Javier, I don’t know what possesses me to skate over to her.

“Boucher?” Coach calls out. “I need a word.”

“I’ll be right there, Coach,” I yell back. “Tobie!”

She halts, eyes wide as I approach. I step off the ice and walk over to the bench to grab a bottle of water. “How’d I do?”

Her eyes dart from me to the observers.

I know what they must be thinking. It isn’t like me to be anything less than one hundred percent focused.

But we have a deal.

While she’s here, I intend to make it very clear to the girls who have been in the stands whispering, giggling, and calling out my name that I’m taken.

I feel them watching. So must Tobie, who has made it clear she isn’t comfortable being the center of attention.

I step toward her, blocking their view of her. “You said you didn’t like hockey. You like it any better today?” As I take a swig from my bottle, her eyes slide from my face to my mouth.

She shrugs. “It was okay.”

I try not to take it personally if she doesn’t like something I love so much. Not everyone likes sports.

Coach shouts my name.

“You want me to walk you to class?” I offer, setting my bottle down.

She shakes her head, glancing over my shoulder and smiling slightly. “Reid already offered.”

“And after that?”

Her gaze is evasive. “Uh, just hanging out with Reid.”

I study her, curious about what she doesn’t want to share.

Coach’s next yell is high in the decibel range that warns his patience is shot.

I pull off my skates, watching Reid grab his bag, toss it over his shoulder, and throw his arm around Tobie as he leads her out.

Javier is standing on his own, near the edge of the ice, phone against his ear, and he’s frowning. It’s Daniela playing games with him or his parents trying to convince him to drop hockey and take up medicine again. Poor guy never gets a break.

“My office,” Coach says, walking toward the short hallway that leads to the locker room and his office.

Which means a serious talk is coming.

I don’t leave him waiting. Only a fool would do that.

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