Page 8 of Switching Skates
While hockey players are born with an ability to flirt, these ones should quickly learn that I have zero interest in ever dating a hockey player again.
But until then … I wouldn’t mind having a little fun. What’s the harm?
“Oh, you are too sweet, Chet.” I bat my eyelashes, glancing at the blue drink in his hand. “I could actuallyreallyuse a Gatorade.”
Chet’s smile falters just slightly as his jaw unhinges.
Ross bursts out laughing, his head tipping forward and his damp dark brown hair falling down his forehead.
Chet stares at me, dumbfounded, as Ross takes the unopened bottle from him and hands it to me.
“He did say anything, didn’t he?”
I nod, taking the bottle with a grateful grin. “He sure did. Thank you.”
Twisting the cap off, I take a sip and put the lid back on before walking around the boys with a smirk on my lips.
Melissa follows me, chuckling. The boys silently watch us as we wander around them.
Walking backward, I face them. “Chet?”
He blinks rapidly. “Yeah?”
I toss the bottle through the air to him, and he catches it with ease.
“I didn’t really want it. To be honest, I didn’t think you’d give it to me.”
“I’d give you a whole lot of things.” He winks.
“Chet,” Melissa groans, warning him, and he lifts his hands up in surrender with a dirty smile.
“Sorry, Chet, I don’t date hockey players anymore.”
I shrug my shoulders, and he forces a dramatic frown.
“Anymore, huh? That sounds like there could still be a chance.” He crosses his fingers in the air.
“Not at all.” I laugh.
“A sad day for sure,” Chet whines and sulks as he steps away and continues on his day with Ross at his side.
I’ve known plenty of hockey players like Chet. Where their only form of communication is flirting. He probably won’t think twice about this entire interaction ever again.
“Already breaking hearts? You’ve only been on campus for five minutes.” Melissa laughs.
I roll my eyes playfully. “Oh, I think he’ll be just fine.”
“So do I.” She pulls the door to the rink open, and we step into the chilly room.
But the goose bumps that break across my arms aren’t only caused by the frigid air, but also by the same reaction I always have when I’m about to step onto the ice … excitement and a sense of peace because on the ice is where I belong.
After watching a bunch of three- to five-year-olds impressively skate around the ice for ten minutes, Melissa and I head to her office to get all the paperwork done.
Three forms and one picture for my ID tag later, I’m set free to go about my day. I’ll be student coaching the first couple of classes with her starting tomorrow evening.
Remembering my path from her office to the exit, I ascend a set of stairs to the hallway where I ran into Chet and Ross earlier, feeling my duffel bag bounce against my side. Around the bend of the hallway, with glass windows decorating one entire side of the walkway, I hear a deep laugh, one I’ve heard many times before, and I stop dead in my tracks.
Shit.
