Page 84 of The Puckable Playbook

CHAPTER TWENTY

Len

When Zaiah toldme he wanted to take me somewhere, I wasn’t expecting this.

He leads me into the arena with the goofiest grin, his golden-retriever energy turned up to the max.

“Do you have practice or something?”

He shakes his head.

“A game I suddenly don’t know about?”

If it’s possible, his grin widens even more. “You know when my games are, Little Miss Stalker.”

I bump him with my shoulder as he squeezes my hand. We’ve barely been able to stay separate since last night. We slept in each other’s arms. We showered together, a flirty explosion of bubbles and shampoo, both of us now smelling like my body wash. “Please,” I retort. “I’m the opposite of a stalker. I’m like the anti-stalker.”

He reaches up to move a strand of hair away from my face. “What about now?”

I blink. Sometimes staring into his eyes transfixes me, as if he’s standing in a spotlight and I’m the only other person in the room. “What’s that song? ‘I messed around and got addicted.’”

Ahead, the ice looms beyond the open Zamboni doors, and I instinctually breathe in, taking in the aromas that uniquely belong to a hockey rink. The ice, the tang of forgotten, sticky sodas and old popcorn. It’s like a stale candy shop. But today? Today it smells a little better. Like I can inhale every part of Zaiah.

He bends over to retrieve something and comes back up with a pair of skates. “I hope you skate better than you sing.”

I mock gasp, taking the skates from him. “You’ll have to get used to my concert showers. They happen every morning.”

“Your lips will be otherwise engaged, I’m afraid.”

A shiver flutters through me like the light touch of a butterfly’s wing. Yesterday, I wanted to make ground rules so we wouldn’t take this too far too soon, the idea of having a live-in boyfriend freaking me out. What if he gets bored with me? What if he chews with his mouth open? What if he snores and I can’t get adequate rest?

But the way he spoke to me last night, the tender way he broke down my fears, I’m floating on a cloud d’amour. A love cloud.

“And you got my skate size how?”

“I looked at your shoe size like a proper stalker. You really could take some cues from me.”

I grin. The idea of Zaiah pursuing me is still preposterous in my head, but here we are. We sit on the nearby bench and pull our skates on. I peek over at the expert way he laces up, his nimble fingers wasting no time. “And you miraculously have yours here too? They weren’t in the car.”

“The general manager here loves me.”

“Oh, does he now? Do you want me to take photos with you guys kissing?”

He shakes his head. “He has a beard. It would sting too much. Face rash and all that.”

I laugh. It’s been forever since I’ve skated, and I pray my legs will hold me.

Zaiah offers me his hand when I’m finished lacing up, and I take it as we walk toward the open ice. He does it effortlessly, and I think he looks like a graceful swan, but that was before his blades hit ice.

I stand back in awe, watching while he glides. Hockey is all sharp angles, fast breaks, and severe stops. I didn’t get to admire his fluidity on skates before, but it’s all here in front of me now. The way he shifts from one edge of his blade to another. His hair billowing up on the side. And of course, there’s no pesky helmet blocking his handsome face.

That little, negative voice inside me sneers,You can’t pull in a guy with such good looks. What are you thinking?

But then he skates up to me and reaches out his hands. “Lenore, sweetie, you ready?”

I place my hands in his, like a symbol of faith. Our connection sizzles, the tips of my fingers buzzing with electricity as he urges me out onto the ice.

“I’ve secretly wanted to bring you here for a while. I thought the girl who cheered for me at my game and spouted stats couldn’t hate hockey as much as you said. Then I met your dad…”

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