Page 103 of Facing Off
Him.
Hughes has his back firmly, almost insistently, pressed against his seat. The corner of my eye also snags on another detail. I can’t help but notice it. His knee. It’s jostling slightly side to side.
Does anyone else see all this?
It’s not obvious. They’re such small details and easy to miss, especially when he’s acting like this. When he’s fully living up to his reputation of being a cocky, arrogant hockey player.
I pull on my bangs, struggling not to be affected by the signs only I seem to be reading. Little indications that the man beside me might not be okay.
I should be…fine with this.
It means he’s more like me than I ever imagined he could be. Externally composed (cockily, in his case), no matter what rages on inside. What beautiful control. My molars hurt from grinding as I tell myself to be impressed.
But I’m not. I can’t stop thinking about that bad feeling on the plane I felt when he first boarded. How he was kind of acting like this, too. And the more the gameplays on, the more my gut folds smaller as I pick up on other things.
Long fingers twist the band of his watch, sliding it back and forth on his wrist. His foot taps this irregular rhythm. And Hughes’ smirk hasn’t wavered once, like it’s stuck on with glue.
Ignore it.Ignore it.You have to ignore it, Sonya.Remember how you locked yourself in that bathroom.You don’t want this.To get confused and feel things…
Hughes laughs. It soundssofake, and I hate it so much that I shift—and my knee goes over and presses against his knee.
He completely stills. It’s as if he’s stopped breathing.
Sitting next to each other, we’re already close enough. I’m subjected to the visual presence of long legs, wide shoulders, a perfect body, and that continuous tempting hug of his signature smell. But this is different.
I’mtouchinghim when there is room to not touch him. I should pull away. I don’t know why I’m doing this, only that I can’t stop. I wonder if he’s going to turn his head and question what I’m doing. Flirt. Smirk harder.
He doesn’t.
The game continues in front of us, a frenzy of boisterous activity. By contrast, Hughes quietly shudders beside me. I hear each of his choppy inhales and exhales.
We still haven’t looked at each other, which is why I almost jump out of my skin when I feel his hand. He’s brought it close to mine, and then Hughes’ finger touches mine. It’s the barest fraction of an overlap, and yet multiplewhooshestumble in my belly. They get worse when he speaks in that low, barely audible tone.
“Can I?”
It’s a question.
I discreetly shrug and nod, reminding myself that Kaviwon’t be able to see anything from the angle she’s sitting. There’s no proof. Just like when I was on his lap in the dark, it will be like it never happened.
In fact, Kavi exclaims something about referees not calling icing. Hughes loudly agrees with her.
Meanwhile, calluses. That’s what I first feel. Then the warm solid weight of Hughes’ hand as it rests partially on mine. There’s a shake to his fingers, but I neutralize it by hooking in some of my fingers with his—and then some more.
Our hands are now interlaced and our thighs still press against each other, and I don’t know how to stop this absurdity. Us holding hands in public.
What’s worse is that I’m not sure I want it to stop.
Team Canada wins, but I have my own confusing private victory sweeping through me. The longer Hughes and I touched, the more I felt his body, little by little, ease its secret tension.
But again, we never looked at each other. Not once.
And when it was over, we let go and leap apart.
41
SONYA
After Team Canada wins,we join everyone to celebrate. Quinn breaks off from talking to his teammates as soon as he sees me.
