Page 101 of Practice Makes Perfect
After she puts her bra back on, I hand her the dress, and she pulls it over her head in one fluid motion. As she smoothsdown her hair and I finish with my buttons, a thought occurs to me. Something I’ve been wanting to ask, but our unconventional start has made it seem out of sequence.
“Em,” I say suddenly, my heart racing in a way that has nothing to do with what we just did.
“Hmm?” She’s busy adjusting her dress, apparently unaware that I’m having a minor internal crisis.
“Let me take you on a date.” The words tumble out before I can overthink them. “Tomorrow.”
Her hands still, and she looks up at me with those wide, expressive eyes. “A date?”
A slow smile spreads across her face. “I’d like that. And afterward, we can have sex.”
The directness of her statement catches me off guard. I’ve spent so much time handling her gently, desperate not to traumatize her or send her running for the hills, and now she drops that particular bomb on me. A laugh escapes me—genuine, joyful.
“What?” she asks, suddenly self-conscious.
“Nothing bad,” I assure her. “I’m in.”
Her smile returns, brighter than before. “I’m glad,” she says.
“Ready to face the music?” I ask, offering my hand.
Em reaches out to take it, lacing our fingers together. “As I’ll ever be.”
I give her hand a reassuring squeeze before turning the doorknob. The sudden flood of light from the hallway makes us both squint, and Em’s grip on my hand tightens as we step out of the bedroom.
The moment we emerge, it’s like walking into a spotlight. The hallway has mysteriously filled with half the hockey team, all wearing shit-eating grins that tell me I’ll never hear the end of this.
“Hey, hey, hey!” Maine calls out, his booming voice carrying over the music still pumping from the living room. “Anyone got a cigarette for these two?”
Em’s face flushes crimson, but there’s a defiant tilt to her chin that makes my chest swell with pride. And something else—something that feels dangerously like falling in love.
“Please tell me you at least changed the sheets,” Declan says.
“Relax,” I tell him. “We stayed above the covers.”
As we make our way down the hall, Em catches Lea’s eye across the room. Her roommate is watching us with undisguised curiosity. Em flashes her a little thumbs up, and Lea’s face breaks into a beaming smile.
“So,” Maine says, falling into step beside me as we head toward the front door, “is this like,officialnow? Because I’ve got twenty bucks riding on it…”
“You bet on us?” Em asks, sounding more amused than offended.
Maine shrugs, unrepentant. “Team tradition. We bet on everything.”
“It’s official,” Em says.
“WINNER!” Maine shouts, earning cheers from half the guys, and groans from the rest of them.
Em buries her face in my shoulder for a moment, her body shaking with laughter. “Well, this isn’t mortifying at all.”
I tilt her chin up, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. “It was worth it, though, wasn’t it?”
Her smile is answer enough.
twenty-five
LINC
The knife makesa satisfying thunk against the cutting board as I dice an onion with practiced precision. There’s something therapeutic about cooking—the promise of satisfaction when it all comes together. Kind of like hockey. Kind of like sex.
