Page 53 of Gap Control

"Could you sign this?"

I smiled automatically. "Of course. You want it on the logo?"

He nodded and handed it over with both hands.

I signed my name with a little loop at the end—habit—and passed it back. "You play?"

"Yeah. Center, like you."

"Nice." I grinned. "You fast?"

"I'm trying to be. My coach says I overthink."

"Thinking's not bad, but tuck the thoughts under your skates."

He smiled briefly. "Can I ask something?"

"Sure."

He glanced around and then looked back up at me. "Is it weird? Having people talk about you and Ryker like that?"

I blinked. "Like what?"

"Like… you know. The together stuff and the memes. My older brother says it's all made up, but you looked really happy in that photo. And if it is real—I think that's cool."

I crouched a little so we were eye-level. "You know what's cool? Getting to be yourself in front of a crowd and not feeling like you need to apologize for it."

He nodded. "That's what I thought."

"You keep playing center, and don't let anyone tell you that you have to move to defense because you're thoughtful."

A big smile flashed on his face. "Thanks."

He darted away toward the hot chocolate cart.

Right on cue, Mason stepped up beside me. He didn't say anything at first. He stood there, shoulder touching mine as he scanned the crowd.

"You're good with kids," he said softly.

"Only the ones who haven't figured out I'm emotionally stunted yet."

His mouth twitched. "You handled that well."

"Yeah, well, if you miss enough shots in the third period, you start looking for a different legacy."

The next thirty minutes were a blur of smiling until my face hurt, pretending I didn't hear the word "boyfriends" whispered every time Mason and I stood within two feet of each other. We fielded approximately forty-seven variations of, "So when's the wedding?"

We signed hats. Programs. Jerseys. A forehead. (Not mine.)

One fan brought a handmade sign that read"SKATES AND SOULMATES #RYKSON4EVER."Mason saw it first. He nudged me with his elbow and deadpanned, "Do we owe them royalties?"

I leaned in. "Only if we use it as our podcast name."

He didn't laugh, but he didn't roll his eyes either. For Mason, that was practically swooning.

The real danger started when Brady handed me his phone. "Cass from ForgeCast is filming a quick video montage. Nothing major. Only vibes. Look engaged. Maybe say something cute about teamwork. Or brunch."

"Why brunch?"

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