Page 59 of Face Off
“Team bonding?” Jonno repeats, deadpan. “In the locker room. At midnight. With your tongue down her throat.”
Ollie shrugs, unbothered, his grin widening. “Effective, isn’t it?”
I cover my face with my hands. “Oh my God, Ollie, stop talking.”
Jonno sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You two…” He shakes his head slowly, muttering something about ‘bloody hockey players and their hormones.’ “Look, I don’t care what you do off the clock, but the walls have ears. And eyes. And mouths. Some of the team’s still around. You don’t want this turning into locker room gossip, trust me. And then there’s Murph.”
Too late, I think. Murphy’s probably already writing a ballad about it.
“Yes, sir,” Ollie says, mock-saluting. “Mum’s the word.”
Jonno glares at him. “Don’t get clever. Just use a door next time.” He points toward the exit, then strides out, leaving us in mortified silence.
The door shuts. For a beat, neither of us moves. Then Ollie bursts out laughing.
I swat his arm. “Don’t you dare laugh. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life.”
“Oh, come on,” he says between chuckles. “It wasn’t that bad, we could’ve been naked. He didn’t threaten to bench me. That’s practically a blessing.”
“You’re impossible.”
“And you,” he says, tugging me back toward him, “are adorable when you’re flustered.”
I try to glare at him but it’s hard when his smile is so boyish and warm. My chest does that stupid fluttery thing again, the one I’ve been trying to ignore. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
“Lucky?” He leans down, his lips brushing mine in a teasing almost-kiss. “Darling, that’s a skill. Years of practice.”
I snort, pushing him back. “Practice with who?”
He smirks. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
I roll my eyes, though the heat curling in my stomach betrays me. “We should go before Jonno drags us out by the ears.”
“Fine,” Ollie says, though he steals another kiss before letting me go. “But you’re not getting rid of me that easy.”
Outside, the air is cool against my flushed skin. The city is quiet, the streetlamps glowing, and the buzz of adrenaline still hums in my veins. Ollie walks beside me, hands shoved into his pockets, his stride easy, like we weren’t just caught snogging like teenagers.
“So,” he says casually. “Dinner, locker room snog, public humiliation. I’d call that a successful date.”
I laugh despite myself. “You’re insufferable.”
“You keep saying that,” he says with a grin. “Yet you keep kissing me. Interesting contradiction.”
“Shut up.”
“Can’t. It’s part of my charm.”
I shake my head, smiling. “Charm isn’t the word I’d use.”
“Devastatingly handsome, then?”
“Try again.”
“Magnetically irresistible?”
I arch an eyebrow. “Delusional.”
“Harsh, but fair,” he says, bumping his shoulder against mine.
