Page 55 of Forecheck
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” I told her. “We knew this was coming. Plus it’s not like my game schedule is anything to scoff at.”
At that moment, I was truly struck by how difficult the next few months would be. It was late January, which meant I still had—at the very least—three months left of the season. That wasn’t including a playoff run. And with Berkley intent on burying her nose in a book every free second she had, finding the time for just the two of us wouldn’t be easy.
But I was more than up to the task of making it happen. I wasn’t giving up on this relationship.
“I’m just saying…the next six months are going to be brutal. At least for me. I understand if you don’t want to—”
“Don’t even finish that sentence.”
Before I could say anything else, the waitress returned with our drinks, staring at us expectantly. I hadn’t even glanced at the menu, but I’d been here enough times to know what I wanted. Berkley, it appeared, did as well. Once we’d ordered, she left again, but not before allowing her gaze to linger on me, her eyes openly climbing up and down the parts of my body she could see. It made my skin crawl, and when her back turned, I gave into a full-body shudder.
Berkley raised a brow when I turned back her way.
“You two wanna get a room?” she teased.
I scoffed. “Absolutely not. I can’t control how people react around me.”
“You could try being a little less nice.”
I shook my head. “Nope. My mama raised me better than that.”
The smile that spread over her face didn’t quite meet her eyes, and I reached across the table for her hand. “We’ll figure out the law school and hockey stuff,” I promised. “Even if the only time I get to see you is when I’m bringing you food or coffee to fuel your study sessions.”
“You’d really do that?”
“Berkley,” I said, her name like a sigh on my lips. “I would do anything for you. Haven’t I made that clear by now?”
The pink that tinged her cheeks was quickly becoming my favorite color. “I might need a refresher.”
I leaned forward, elbows on the table, and Berkley mirrored me.
“What kind of refresher are we talking about?” I asked, moving closer still until my ass rose off the chair beneath me, until my palms were flat on the table, my entire upper body suspended over it.
Berkley moved with me, our faces now inches apart. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
I closed the distance between us. My lips barely grazed hers, and I deeply inhaled the heady blend of her perfume. Before I could take things further, a throat cleared nearby. Berkley shot back in her seat, cheeks flaming. I lowered myself slowly, unbothered, merely grinning at my girl.
With little fanfare, the waitress dropped our appetizer between us and stomped away.
On the table, Berkley’s phone buzzed and jumped with a notification. She swiped it up and studied it.
“Oh, fuck,” she whispered at last, eyes going wide.
“What? Is everything okay?”
Wordlessly, she flipped her phone screen to face me, and I read the texts from Lexie.
Lexie: Uhh, Berk…
Lexie: I think you and Brent have been outed
Lexie: *photo message*
The photo was a screenshot of an Instagram story. It featured two people, leaning toward each other across a table, lips inches apart.
I realized with a start that it was a photo of us from moments ago.
Berkley’s head shot up, her eyes surveying the restaurant in search of the culprit, and I did the same. My eyes caught on our waitress, who stood at the hostess stand with two of her co-workers, alternately glancing at her phone and looking at us, a smug smile on her face.
