Chloe excuses herself to use the washroom before we leave. As soon as she’s out of sight, I unlock my phone again to check my messages. My hopes crash and burn when I find several new texts from Abby and none from Tyler.
Footfalls thud beside me as someone approaches the table. I lift my chin expecting to see Chloe, and my heart does a twirl when I lock eyes with Hades himself.
A fitted black Henley drapes across his firm chest, long sleeves pushed partway up to reveal his inked forearms; a pair of perfectly broken-in jeans emphasize his strong hockey thighs; and the leather watch he’s wearing somehow makes it all ten times hotter.
He looks absolutely, aggravatingly perfect.
“Hey, Ser.” Tyler stuffs his hands in his pockets, giving me a boyish grin that makes my insides turn to mush. If I didn’t know better, I might think he’s nervous. Not sure why he would be when he’s the one who left me hanging.
I paste on a smile I hope looks more genuine than it feels. “Hi.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t write you back earlier. Forgot my phone at the arena after practice.” Tension stretches across his face, and he forks a hand through his sandy hair, mussing it. “It’s been a day.”
A paradox of emotions hits me. Relief, giddiness, along with a strong undercurrent of embarrassment at how I overreacted. I feel silly even though no one else knows I did.
“That’s okay,” I say. “Are you here with the team?”
“Just finished up with my goalie coach. We grabbed some dinner after training.”
Chloe speed walks up to the table, her gaze glued to the phone in her hand. She’s so frazzled, she doesn’t seem to register Tyler’s presence.
“I’m sorry, Sera. There’s an emergency at work, and they need me to come in right away. It’s on the other side of town so I’ll drive you home quickly, and then—”
“I got it,” Tyler interjects. “I’m heading home anyway. I can drive her.”
Her attention lifts from her screen and lands on him, her mouth parting in a little “O” of confusion. I didn’t mention having a boyfriend, and that’s probably what she’s assuming right now. Or she thinks I’m about to leave with some random guy.
I gesture between them. “Chloe, this is Tyler, my roommate. Hence the driving home offer. Tyler, this is Chloe. We have a class together.”
Her shoulders sag with relief. “Would you mind? My boss is such a jackass. I feel terrible. It’s probably something like a clogged toilet he can’t be bothered to plunge himself. Again.”
“All good,” I assure her. I’m more excited about Tyler driving me home than a normal person should be. It’s a ride home, not a date. Then again, we’ve already had one eventful car ride with my audiobook.
Once I get my credit card back from the server, we walk Chloe to her car where it’s parked near the back of the lot.
Tyler turns to me as she pulls away. “Mind if we make a quick stop at the rink to grab my phone?” His words are puffs of steam against the frosty night air.
“No, that’s fine.” Like I’d turn down a chance to be alone with him longer. The minute we get home, we’re going to go our separate ways and act like we hardly know each other, then send a bunch of texts back and forth until we fall asleep.
We fall into step together as he expertly navigates across campus, teaching me several new shortcuts along the way. The chill nips at my ears, and I pull up my hood, but it doesn’t help enough. Between my admittedly impractical outfit and my failure to pack a beanie or earmuffs this morning, I’m frozen and I’m starting to shiver.
“Here, Tink.” Slowing to a stop beneath a streetlamp, Tyler pulls something out of his backpack. Then he tugs down my hood and carefully slides his black falcons beanie over my head, his touch light like he’s trying to ensure he doesn’t ruin my hair. The thick wool covers my ears and buffers the wind on my face, instantly cutting some of the chill.
He studies me for a beat like he’s inspecting his own handiwork, and one side of his mouth tips up. “You’re cute.”
“Cute?” I pout.
“Among other things.” His gaze does a slow coast down my body before he catches himself. Inclining his head, he gestures for us to start walking again. We pick up our pace as Northview Arena comes into sight in the distance, so close but so far from the sweet relief of being indoors.
Tyler opens the oversized glass door and holds it open, motioning for me to go first. Warm air washes over my face as I step inside, and he follows.
“For reference, my answer to your question is cleaning.”
“Cleaning?” I can’t remember what my question was.
“You asked what I do when I’m stressed out,” he says, taking a left to lead me down a hallway. “I clean. Or when I have more time on my hands, I get tattoos.”
Picturing Tyler with a mop in one hand is both oddly cute and surprisingly endearing. I hadn’t pegged him for the domestic type.
“Does that also include the occasional piercing?” I ask.
I nearly fell over when my hand wrapped around his cock in the bathroom at XS to find not one, not two, but three silver barbells at the base. A full-on Jacob’s Ladder. I’d never been with a guy who had piercings before, and let’s just say I’m a newly converted believer. It hit the spot—literally.
“Just the once.” A grin tugs at his cheeks. “No plans for any more of those, I don’t think. Your turn to answer.”
“Truthfully? Probably go out with my friends and pretend whatever’s stressing me out doesn’t exist, but as you know, that strategy doesn’t seem to be working out so well for me lately. It looks like shopping is going to be my coping mechanism moving forward. I’m big into retail therapy.”
“The constant carousel of online deliveries gave me some idea,” he says wryly. “As did the fact you’ve started to take over the hallway.”
“I’ll organize my room… Someday.” I really need to finish unpacking. Maybe I can pay someone to come help me. How much do professional organizers cost? Probably worth it.
“Hopefully before you move out.”
I groan at the reminder. “Oh, god. Things have been so crazy that I haven’t even looked for an apartment.” It’s one of the billion balls I’ve dropped since moving. Others include working out and eating an adequate amount of fruits and vegetables. At the rate I’m going, the guys are going to get sick of me long before I manage to find a place to live.
“I’m not in a big hurry to see you go, Ser.” His voice softens, melting me right along with it.
In a few more turns, we reach the doorway to the Falcons locker room. Finally warm enough, I slip off Tyler’s beanie and tuck it in my purse. I smooth my static flyaways while I hang back, waiting for him to enter his ID for access. He holds open the crimson-painted door for me, and I brush past him, savoring the familiarity of his masculine, clean scent.
Much to my surprise, the dressing room smells fresh, tinged with a hint of Windex and cleaning solution—a far cry from what I assume it smells like after a game. The door clicks shut behind us as he flips a switch on the wall, and a three-dimensional Falcons logo in the center of the ceiling lights up, illuminating the space. It’s spotless; sleek and modern, all shades of red, black, and gray.