Page 28 of Rule 2: Never Join a Christmas Dating Show
“Did Dmitri help you?”
“Yeah.”
Luke beams. “I was stuck in the interview room.”
“You had a good game?” I ask, even though I know he did.
“The best. Now get on the bus.”
I nod and glance toward the steps. My stomach twists, and I hate it.
It’s a bus.
I mean a bus filled with hockey players who could all crush me even if they didn’t use their hockey sticks. God, some of these guys fight on the ice. Even football players don’t stop to do that during games.
I head toward the steps, conscious of Luke behind me, then board the bus.
I feel like I’m back in high school. I’m pretty sure that’s the last time I was on a bus. This bus is a step up from the yellow school busses I used to be shuttled around in, but not much of one.
The guys give me curious looks when I enter, and Luke slams a hand on my back.
“Everyone, this is Sebastian. He’s going to be traveling with me sometimes. He’s the host ofSeeking Mr. Right.”
The hockey players erupt into laughter, as if he’s said a punchline, and I stiffen.
“Ignore them,” Luke says, his voice soft. “Let’s find seats.”
Most of the hockey players are sprawled onto double seats, manspreading their sizable legs. I keep my gaze focused in front, avoiding eye contact with everyone, because even though I’m in my fucking twenties, right now I’m on a bus filled with jocks, a precarious situation I managed to avoid even in high school.
A warm hand touches my shoulder, and I shiver.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Luke says. “There’s an open seat there.”
I glance at it, my eyes too wide, my voice too wobbly. “O-okay.”
I slide into the seat. I sit straight, my professional face on, my gaze bouncing from muscular athlete to muscular athlete.
This isn’t high school, I remind myself. This so isn’t high school.
But even though some of the people here are over thirty, because I’ve done my research, I don’t think my brain understands, and fear skitters through me all the same.
Luke hesitates then plops down beside me. “This okay?”
“Oh.” I stiffen. His presence shouldn’t feel as grounding as it does.
“Just in case you think about anything for the show,” he says.
“Right.”
I like that he’s on the outside, beside the noise and the commotion so I have nothing to do with it. I place my feet on the floor, and inhale.
The chatter of men doesn’t soothe my nerves. Finally, the bus driver closes the door, and the bus backs from its space, venturing toward something new. I keep my gaze on the gray sky and the equally gray parking lot.
I feel Luke’s gaze on me, but when I turn, he is opening up his AirPod case. I inhale, sucking in the air of twenty different colognes and axe body sprays.
Laughter sounds from different parts of the coach, and maybe I should be smiling too, but instead I think about all the ways they could be laughing at me. Too often I was the joke in high school, and I still stiffen automatically.
But I’m sitting beside Luke, and he is calm and unbothered, and somehow I’m certain nothing has been said that shouldn’t have been. Nothing about me at least.
