Page 37 of Rule 2: Never Join a Christmas Dating Show
Dmitri frowns in the direction of Oskar and Sebastian. “Do you think they’ll listen?”
“Why would they....?” I tighten my grip on my hockey stick. “They like each other?”
Dmitri shrugs. “Everyone likes Oskar.”
My forehead furrows. I’m not completely sure Oskar has dated anyone before. Mostly he sends longing glances at Dmitri. But that probably means he’s single. And I think Sebastian is too? He hasn’t mentioned a significant other. But why wouldn’t someone want to date Sebastian? I mean, if someone were a gay man. Or bisexual. Or pansexual.
Sebastian probably has loads of good-looking, charming Californian men lining up to date him. They probably all want to tuck him into their beds. Maybe that’s why he’s grumpy sometimes. Maybe he misses his fun-filled life. Maybe he hates that he has to spend his time with me and talk about hockey and ask me questions about girls.
Something twists in my stomach.
Some local celebrity is singing the national anthem, but my gaze turns to Oskar and Sebastian again. They seem to be enjoying themselves. And Dmitri might notice things about Oskar.
The whistle screeches, and I snap my attention back to the ice.
The crowd thunders as the puck drops, but my focus slips. I glance at the stands one last time. Oskar leans in close to say something to Sebastian, and my stomach twists, as if Evan is currently pummeling my stomach, and not the puck, with his stick.
My heart races, and not out of anxiety that a game is going to start, and we have another chance to win, and also another chance to lose.
No, the only thing going through my mind now is Sebastian.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Sebastian
Luke is amazing.
I mean, I knew he was amazing before.
But there’s something about going to a live game. Something about seeing how fast he skates, when the rest of us are sitting. He speeds over the ice, hockey stick in hand, towering over other players.
“He’s excellent,” I murmur wide-eyed to Oskar.
Oskar beams. “They all are. Look at Dmitri.”
I nod, but my gaze remains fixed on Luke, even if this is a bulkier version of him, looming in his helmet and pads.
But still, it’s him. I’m transfixed.
I don’t watch him normally. I don’t want him to see me giving him appreciative glances. God, I’m here to help him find a wife.
But maybe while he’s busy playing hockey, I can look. I can admire his height and the breadth of his shoulders. I can admire the way he passes to the others. And I can cheer for him when he gets first one assist, then another.
I miss him each time his line sits back down.
“It’s snowing hard,” Oskar murmurs.
I turn to him. “Did you say something?”
He glances up from his phone. “The weather is horrible.”
“That’s not good.”
“No.” Oskar chews his bottom lip, then texts someone. His fingers fly rapidly over the keys, and I wonder what he’s doing.
“Shit.” He stands. “The driver said the weather is impossible. There’s no way we can make it back to Boston. I have to find accommodation for twenty hockey players and their staff. I’m going to call the hotel. Sorry.”
Oskar hurries away, and I return my gaze to the players as they chase the puck around the ice, unaware of the blizzard descending upon us.
