Page 10 of Sweet Boys Love Christmas
I’m normally a tidy person, but after I discovered my parents were ditching me for Christmas, I might’ve wallowed a bit. Or a lot.
Once I’ve picked up the clutter, I wipe down counters, clean up the smear of toothpaste from the sink in case he has to use the bathroom, and stuff my tampons in the cabinet.
As I straighten and close the cabinet door, I catch sight of myself in the mirror, and a curse springs out of me.
I’m a mess. My blond hair is piled on top of my head, and my pajamas are far from cute. I look nowhere near desirable.
Not that I want him to see me as such.
We’re just two platonic friends hanging out.
So, with a heavy exhale, I decide to keep the pajamas. But I have to do something about my hair. I let it down and carefully brush out the knots. How it got so tangled in such a shortamount of time is beyond me. Once my hair is smooth, I spritz a little perfume on, worried that I stink and just can’t tell.
I’ve just put it away when there’s a knock at my door.
Smoothing my hands down the front of my pajamas, I give myself five seconds to catch my breath before I turn the knob and greet my visitor.
Luke takes up the entire doorway. He’s so big in the narrow hallway outside my dorm. Larger than life.
“Hey.” His lips quirk up on one side. “I went ahead and got you a veggie pizza just in case.”
He holds up the two boxes, breaking me out of my trance.
“Thanks.” I step aside to let him in. “I ended up not eating my leftovers, so this is great.”
His dark brows furrow as he sets the pizza on the counter. “Why didn’t you eat?”
“I needed to clean up. This place was a mess.”
A gruff laugh escapes him. “You didn’t need to clean up for me.” He looks around my dorm, taking in the kitchenette and living area with the two bedrooms branching off and a bathroom between. “I forget how nice these rooms are. It’s like an apartment.”
I cross my arms over my chest, but immediately drop them again when I realize I’m not wearing a bra. “You don’t live on campus?”
He shakes his head. “I’m a local, remember? I live with my mom.” His cheeks flame a little at that, like he’s embarrassed about his living situation. “I think that’s part of the reason I got the scholarship here. Help out a local kid or whatever.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s your hockey talent that got you in.” The instant the words are out, I want to slap myself. Now I’m the one whose cheeks are heating.
He grins, making a dimple I’ve never noticed pop. This man was already lethal, but throw in a dimple, and I’m not sure I stand any chance.
“Checking out my stats, B?”
Nobody in my life calls me B except him, and I don’t correct him. For some ridiculous reason, I like it.
“I was looking at the whole team.”
His eyes glimmer with amusement. “I’m sure you were.”
“You know you’re a good player,” I mutter, standing on my tiptoes to grab plates from the cabinet. “You don’t need me to tell you that.”
“No.” He steps up behind me and presses a hand against my waist. “But I do like to hear it.” His body is warm behind mine. “Let me get those.”
Our fingers graze as we reach for the plates at the same time, and sparks zip up my arm like I’ve been electrocuted.
“Sorry,” I mutter, quickly pulling my hand against my chest and dropping down so my feet are flat on the floor.
“No, I’m sorry,” he says, setting the plates on the counter and putting a foot of space between us.
We silently load our plates, then sit on the couch with matching cans of Diet Coke.
