Page 31 of Heated Rivalry 1
Obviously the first option was the most sensible. Certainly the safest.
Also the most unappealing.
Fuck.
Shane slowed the treadmill to a cool-down speed and grabbed his water bottle.
Yeah. No. Okay. He definitely had to end this nonsense with Rozanov. He’d made it to the NHL and was at the beginning of what he hoped would be a very impressive career. A giantfucking scandal probably wasn’t the best way to kick things off. And Shane couldn’t see a way that they could possibly keep this thing quiet if it continued.
Why was he eventhinkingabout that? A long-term secret relationship with Ilya Rozanov? Was that what some part of his dumb brain was hoping for?
No. Definitely putting a stop to this. This was just Shane being...nineteen. He was nineteen and horny and oddly lonely, for a star athlete. Just because Rozanov was making himselfavailabledidn’t mean Shane had to accept.
Pleased with his decision, he stepped off the treadmill and headed to the chin-up bar. There would be nothing to it. Rozanov would text him to ask for his address, and Shane would write backno.
Next week—Montreal
Lily: I need your address.
Shane: No.
Shane smirked at his phone, very pleased with his prompt and clear reply to Rozanov’s text.
Lily: Fuck off. What is it?
Shane: None of your business.
Lily: Fine. Your loss.
Shane stopped smirking. He sat down hard on his couch and turned on his brand-new lamp. The Bears would roll into town the day after tomorrow. They would play later that evening, and then...
Shane chewed his lip, thinking. It’s not that he didn’t want to...seeRozanov. If he was being honest, he’d been obsessivelythinking about it since the All-Star weekend. He just didn’t want his archrival coming to his home. That seemed like too big of a line to cross.
He wrote back.Could we meet somewhere else?
He felt a flush of embarrassment as he hit send. God, why couldn’t he just have left it where it was? He’d successfully rejected Rozanov. Why give the power right back to him?
Lily: Like where?
Shane: I don’t know!
Lily: Figure it out. Let me know.
Shane hated how relaxed Rozanov was about all of this. It wasn’t fucking fair. He almost wrote backForget it, but instead just stood and slipped his phone into his pocket.
He would figure it out.
Shane: 1822.
Lily: ?
Shane: Room number.
Lily: OK...where is the room?
Shane: Same hotel you’re in.
Lily: See you soon.
