Page 16 of Icing on the Cake

“Wow.” His eyes widen imperceptibly. “You’re a junior, then?”

“Yes.”

“Sweet. Me?—”

“I know.”

“Right.” His brow furrows as he thinks of something else to ask. I pray he doesn’t, but God doesn’t hear me.No surprise there.“What’s your favorite part of the job?”

“When it’s quiet.” There’s an edge to my tone, and I hope he takes the hint and shuts up.

“Is it not?”

“Usually, it is. But on a day like today…”

“What’s today?”

My eyebrows shoot into my hair as I throw my head back to look up at him. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“No?” He scratches his head with his index finger, and again, I don’t define it as adorable.

“The season opener? The one you’re playing in?”

“Oh, right!” His cheeks turn ruby red. “That is if I can find my dang hockey stick.”

Dang? What college student purposely censors themselves?

“Which brings me to a question of my own. How do you misplace a hockey stick? Aren’t those things big and long?”

His cheeks redden, and I have no clue why.

“Y-yes. Hockey sticks aren’t tiny. But I tend to be forgetful. Especially if other things are on my mind.”

“And last night, your mind was on…what?”

“Honestly? I can’t remember.”

The elevator stops on the third floor, and the bell rings louder than it should, making me wince.

“You okay?” Gerard asks, clearly still watching me.

“I think I have a migraine coming on.”

“Ouch. I’ve had those before. They suck.”

“Tell me about it.”

The doors slide open, and I step out, inhaling deeply now that I’m not squished into a tiny box with a massive hockey player.

Gerard steps up beside me and places his hands on his hips. The action oozes masculinity, and I avert my gaze before I make a fool of myself and start drooling.

Some people have foot fetishes. Others have muscle fetishes. I, Elliot Jerome Montgomery, have a hand fetish. And Gerard’s hands are the size of my head.

I can’t tell you when I first realized I had a thing for hands. One day, I was beating my meat to a video where this one guy was gripping another guy’s waist, and I blew my load like Mount Vesuvius.

Nobody knows about it. Not Sarah. Not Jackson. Not even my high school ex.

“Alright. Lead the way, Elliot.” He gestures forward with hisright hand, and it takes all my willpower not to grab it. Feel it. Remember it.

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