Icebound Rivals (Arctic Titans of

Northwood U Book 4) MM Hayden Hall

Visit to download the full and correct content document:
https://ebookmass.com/product/icebound-rivals-arctic-titans-of-northwood-u-book-4-m
m-hayden-hall/
Copyright © 2024 by Hayden Hall
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 979-8-8725-4626-9
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written
permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover photo by XramRagde
Cover design by Angela Haddon

Edited by Sabrina Hutchinson

Written by Hayden Hall
www.haydenhallwrites.com
Created with Vellum
 Contents

1. Grayson
2. Avery
3. Grayson
4. Avery
5. Grayson
6. Avery
7. Grayson
8. Avery
9. Grayson
10. Avery
11. Grayson
12. Avery
13. Grayson
14. Avery
15. Grayson
16. Avery
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Rebels of the Rink
Acknowledgments
Also by Hayden Hall
About the Author
 About the Book

Grayson Reed is into me.

We are each other’s fiercest opponents in the rink. But now, Grayson’s eyes are stripping me down whenever we cross
each other’s paths.
I don’t mind being the object of another guy’s desire, but I also refuse to jump into a stranger’s bed so quickly. It’s just that
I’m not really dating material.
And of all the guys on Earth, Grayson Reed is the last person I would give a chance. But if there is one thing everyone
knows about Gray, it’s that he is not a quitter.
The more I push him away, the more he tries to get closer. And as he struggles to win me over, I stumble into the very thing
I swore I would avoid.
Love.
Our struggles on the ice are nothing compared to the conquest of each other. And when I find out about the dare that had
brought us together, my trust is shattered. It will take a lot more courage to fix this mess than it took to win a date with me. And
I just don’t know if this playboy is brave enough for a relationship or if his story ends with the conquest.
 ONE

Grayson

THE AIR PULSED WITH THE THUMPING BASS . BEER FLOWED LIKE A RIVER AND PEOPLE MOVED WITH A SWAY IN THEIR STRIDE. OUR
small pack of outsiders stood in the midst of chaos and our opponents bristled on the other side of the spacious common area.
The Alpha Kappa Phi frat house welcomed students from all over the city, not exclusively from their university. That meant
we often crossed paths with our rivals. But it was worth it. Northwood campus parties were notoriously superior to ours. That
was the extent of their qualities though. Their university ranked below ours in academic achievements; their volleyball team
hadn’t won a game against ours in a year; their flagship hockey program had once been the pride of Northwood. Their Frozen
Four victory last year would be short lived.
Since I took over the Blizzard Breakers and the new season kicked off six weeks ago, we had scored two out of two
victories against the Arctic Titans, which was the first in living memory, and I was determined to keep this streak going.
I tapped Spencer’s shoulder. “Get us something to drink, bud.”
“Sure thing, Cap,” he said. Spencer was my right-hand man and best friend since childhood. When we joined the Breakers,
we added our teammate Cole to the group. We were also the main offensive on our team, with me taking center and my friends
playing on the wings. We were the dream team that the Breakers had been waiting for. We had known that last year, but we
were starting to prove it to everyone this season.
“Is that Caden Jones?” Cole tugged on my sleeve. I followed his gaze and, sure enough, found the Titans’ winger, Caden,
striking up a flirty looking conversation with some dude. You go, buddy, I thought, respecting an openly gay guy on a hockey
team with all my heart but also preemptively gloating about kicking his ass in the rink this weekend.
I looked around and found that Caden wasn’t the only Titan in the room. I spotted their goalie, Sawyer, and a couple of
their defensemen. Tyler and Sebastian, if I recalled correctly.
Our third friendly game against the Titans was only two days away. I could feel the current of the electric excitement
course through my veins. To come face to face with Beckett Partridge, the nephew of the very popular, very skilled NHL star,
Nate Partridge, and snatch the third victory from under his nose was a dream come true. As a bonus, I hoped to face off against
my long-time rival in one of the periods. There was nothing I liked more than hard-checking Avery Collins. I’d crossed paths
with him countless times. So often in fact that I knew he wore an alpine breeze cologne with strong notes of sage and cypress,
lemon and musk, juniper and cedar.
As if I had Beetlejuiced him, Avery Collins flung the front door open and drew my attention instantly. He scanned the
crowd with his steel-gray eyes. His lips were pressed tight and thin, the Cupid’s bow even more pronounced with the tense set
of his facial muscles, and his nose was perfectly straight. The way he shaved two lines on the outer side of his right eyebrow
marked him as a fuckboy. I was rarely mistaken about that.
He turned his cold gray gaze to me as if I had summoned him. It was as intense as touching a bare wire. It stirred something
deep inside of me, but I didn’t look away. He was only scanning the room for his friends, so his gaze left me like I hadn’t even
been there.
I had seen him up close often enough. I knew both what it felt like to slam into him and trap him against the boards and to be
trapped by him in turn. Beneath the layers of his Arctic Titan jersey and the pads under it, I knew he had a firm, wiry figure.
His broad shoulders were rounded with exercise and his stride was as determined on a hardwood floor as it was on the
polished surface of the ice. He charged through the crowd, emotionless and focused, like a mystery in a tight T-shirt.
For an entire year, I couldn’t get a read on that guy. The most I saw was pure contempt. For me. For my team. For everyone
outside his social circle. I was almost certain that was what it was. Whatever brewed beneath the cool mask he wore every
day, Avery hid it well. But I had also seen the bloodlust and the sparks in his eyes when we battled one another in the rink. He
had been hellbent on besting me, but the feelings had always been mutual.
Spencer returned with three plastic cups full of beer and handed them to Cole and myself. I toasted to our upcoming victory.
“Because there’s no way we’re losing against the Titans,” I insisted.
“You’re very sure of yourself, Captain,” Cole said, but he drank to it anyway.
I harrumphed. My gaze trailed Avery Collins across the room as he coolly nodded to their goalie, Sawyer, and the nerdy-
looking guy standing next to him. Another couple. I wondered how one team could attract so many guys from across the
spectrum when my own team was as straight as an arrow now that Jonah Hamilton had graduated. I was the last gay man
standing on the Breakers. “Only three things are certain in life, my friend. Death, taxes, and the Titans blundering this season.”
Cole and Spencer nodded reluctantly. “Your hubris outshines a Shakespeare character, Gray.” Spencer wore his skeptical
mask, but I knew the fire in those eyes. He was ready for battle.
“Not even the best bard could imagine the likes of you,” Cole said, deadpan.
I shrugged. “I’m telling you, we bagged it already. Their morale is low after two consecutive defeats. Their leadership is in
shambles. Look at them. They’re worried even now.”
My friends looked at the scattered Titans around the room. “They look fine to me,” Spencer said.
“You’re not gonna go tragically mad if we actually, you know, lose, right?” Cole asked with exaggerated concern for my
sanity.
“We haven’t lost a game in six weeks. We’re not about to start this weekend,” I said firmly.
Spencer was the one who seemed genuinely worried. “Yeah, but what if we do?”
“Knock on wood, dammit,” I said.
“You’re the one tempting fate, Gray,” Spencer insisted.
“I would never,” I said, incredulous. “I’m just that confident.”
Spencer shrugged. “Alright. Are you willing to put that to the test?”
Cole’s ears perked and his eyes glimmered with mischief. “Ooh, are we betting against ourselves?”
Spencer laughed it off while I considered this. “Not betting against ourselves, just testing how confident our Captain really
is.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “That way, we can ward off the evil spirits he is summoning.”
“How so?” I asked flatly.
“Simple. If you keep pushing that we’re an unsinkable ship, I am willing to bet we’re on a collision course with an iceberg.
However, if this is just a test of your daring, then it’s got no reason to tickle any hockey god’s wrath.” Spencer laid his case
like he was a tribe shaman.
“We athletes really are a superstitious bunch,” Cole huffed.
“You know what? Whatever. I’ll prove it to you.” I drained my beer, set my cup on the windowsill, and crossed my arms.
“Let me hear your terms, traitor.”
Spencer narrowed his eyes. “If we win the third game against the Titans, I’ll never again question your prophetic powers.”
He bit his lip, then added: “For a month.”
Cole snorted and I shook my head. “Nah, if I’m right, you’ll wear their jersey in public the weekend after.”
Spencer’s eyes widened. “You are cruel.”
“You wanted to make it personal,” I said with a shrug.
“That’s actually fair,” Cole offered.
“Easy for you to say,” Spencer said.
“And if we lose?” I asked, putting a stop to their banter. “What do I do?”
Spencer glanced around. I felt a moment of dread before he spoke. And when his words poured over his lips, my fright was
justified. “Easy enough. You have to hook up with one of the Titans.”
Cole’s eyes widened with shock and then a grin split his face. “Nice.”
“Out of the question,” I shook my head. “I’m not sleeping with anyone on a dare. What if none of them want it? Do I lose?”
Spencer raised his hands in defense. “Fine, alright. Take one out on a date, then.”
I considered it. A date could be anything. We could see a movie or have dinner. It didn’t necessarily have to be the most
romantic night of our lives. As my eyes narrowed, Spencer inhaled to continue.
“But I mean the mother of all dates, do you hear me? Cole and I will be nearby to make sure you are doing everything in
your power to seduce him. Fair enough, you don’t have to get into his pants, but you have to do your best.” He crossed his arms
and pushed his chest out.
My lips pursed in thought. Most of the Titans were probably more gay than straight, so much so that I had heard them called
the Arctic Unicorns once or twice. Aside from the coupled ones, there had to be one willing to go out on a date with me. Not to
brag, but I was a cutie when I dressed up and a hottie when I dressed down. I had never gotten a ‘no’ in my life. At least when
it came to taking someone out on a date.
“Which one?” I asked Spencer. “Or is at least that much up to me?”
My best friend sucked his teeth. “Jones.”
I threw my head back and laughed out loud. “And here I was, thinking this would be fun.”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Cole asked.
 “Too easy,” I said quietly. “But I wouldn’t trust you to pay attention. Caden Jones has been on a bender since before the
season kicked off. I can go over there and get his number before you even finish your beer.”
Spencer bristled, but Cole cocked his head. “How about one of those two?” Cole pointed at the defensemen, Tyler and
Sebastian.
“Nah, we don’t want to create friction in their relationship,” Spencer said.
“They’re straight, dude,” I pointed out.
“How do you keep tabs on everyone?” Spencer asked, mock concerned about his privacy.
“We have a mutual friend,” I said. “Those two have girlfriends.”
“So, Jones is too easy. Defensemen are too hard. Who else?” Cole summarized.
I looked around the room, my gaze landing on the Mount Everest of all dates. He had slept with a guy I knew, although
discreetly, so he wasn’t totally straight. It was just that we had fought against each other so many times that it was all we knew.
As I examined him, knowing where Spencer was headed, my best friend sealed my fate. “Avery Collins.” He nodded to
reaffirm his decision. “That’s who you need to take out on a date.”
Fuck. I had no excuses. “He hates my guts,” I said.
“Perfect,” Cole said, clapping his hands together. “When has that ever stopped you?”
“It’ll be more of a challenge,” Spencer said.
And I knew it was the sort of challenge that I craved. I liked winning. Sue me. I liked it more than anything. And if I got his
number and scored a date that wasn’t a total flop, then it would be a victory for the ages.
I sighed. “That guy’s a robot. A psycho, probably.” I’d found myself inadvertently in his arms, although not particularly
romantically, more than a few times. I knew what sort of roughness I was getting into.
Cole shrugged. “Why does it matter? We’re gonna win anyway. Right, Cap?”
Spencer lifted one knowing finger. “You can’t pull out, Gray. What’s done is done.”
I forced a calm wave to pass through me. It was the same thing I did out on the ice to focus on solutions, rather than get
dragged into battles. “I’ve got nothing to worry about.” And I meant it. I was about to take this team to the greatness it hadn’t
seen in years.
Spencer disappeared for a minute, then returned with three more beers. “Let’s drink on it.” He raised his cup between the
two of us and I mimicked his solemn expression as we sealed the dare by draining our cups. I wiped my mouth with the back of
my hand, laughed at the childishness of the whole thing, and scanned the room again.
Avery Collins.
I ran a mental checklist on him. Of all the whispers I’d picked up through my friends, anything regarding him was the
quietest. I knew he had been with a guy last year and I knew he was single. If he was on any dates recently, the word didn’t
reach me.
I had no idea what he did this summer or if he was pursuing anyone privately. What I did know was not comforting. Scoring
a date with him would be a real challenge. But if I was right, it would never have to come to that.
So why wasn’t I satisfied with that? Why did I feel like winning the next game was going to lose me something I had never
had?
The sneakiest idea crossed my mind and I banished it as quickly as it had arrived. It was a ridiculous thought. I would
never jeopardize my integrity and the benefit of my team for something as silly as a boyish dare. Not even if it gave me a good
reason to walk up to Avery Collins.
 TWO

Avery

THE TENSION WAS PALPABLE. EVERY MUSCLE IN MY BODY BURNED . MY MOUTH WAS DRY. I HELD MY BREATH WHILE THE CROWD ’ S
cheers and boos increased. As the final minutes counted down, I was ready for a tie.
Heading for me was their captain, Grayson Reed. He sent the puck viciously to the left Breaker and attempted to avoid me.
His eyes on the puck betrayed him. He was going to bait and switch, then take the puck. And as he neared me, he lifted his gaze
in a surprise move. He looked right into my eyes as our bodies collided and I carried him off toward the boards. I slammed
into him, holding him just long enough that he had no chance of retrieving his momentum and his position.
We were locked. “Ah, fuck,” he scoffed as he crashed. “That’s…rough.” But in the next heartbeat, I was turning away from
him. I watched Beckett snatch the puck from their left player and Caden blazed after him.
It was possible that every last person who filled this rink, including all the Arctic Titans, Blizzard Breakers, Coach
Murray, and Beckett Partridge himself, were shocked at that moment. Even I could hardly believe it. The two played off each
other almost like they had been hockey partners for ages.
My heart stopped as we all froze and watched the last seconds tick away. The puck flew between their goalie’s skates.
Since Beckett had taken over the captaincy following Riley’s graduation, we had been on a losing streak. It wasn’t the guy’s
fault. He had been overwhelmed with the weight of the responsibility — a thing I never would have wished to have placed on
my shoulders. And if that wasn’t enough, one of our finest players had decided to protest Beckett’s captaincy by making himself
pretty useless out here.
The team had been forced to make an impromptu intervention for Beckett and Caden a while back. We’d given them an
ultimatum. Either they would cooperate, or they would both be off the team. We couldn’t afford a losing streak because of the
discord within the team.
And for a change, we finally won. Traditionally, we kicked the Breakers’ butts every season. They were a good team but
never great. Last year, they had upped their game but still fell short of taking us down. This season, however, was a whole
different story. Their freshly appointed captain, a sophomore student with his eyes on the prize, had shaken things up for the
Breakers. Where Beckett Partridge struggled to keep the team together, Grayson Reed seemed to easily weave all his
teammates into a single-minded focus on the ice, following their coach’s direction to a dot and winning two friendly matches
against us. Not the third, though.
Our luck was turning around. I could feel it.
Madness consumed the rink. Nobody had expected this victory, and even Beckett shouted and cheered from the top of his
lungs.
I scanned the ice. Ahead of me, my Titans celebrated. A tickle of joy passed through me. My face was hard as stone, but I
knew that my eyes twinkled. The corners of my lips quivered as my friend and our goalie, Sawyer Price, skated over and
clasped my shoulder. “Look at you. You’re positively ecstatic.”
“Am I?” My eyebrows rose as I pulled my helmet off.
“No.” Sawyer threw his head back and laughed out loud. I wasn’t sure why. He tended to laugh at most things when talking
to me. I had learned quickly that he wasn’t mocking me, just having fun. The truth was, all the guys were quick to laugh, and the
jokes seemed to fly over my head — or, more likely, weren’t very funny.
I was happy we won. Obviously. But did I feel the need to risk twisting my ankle by jumping up and down while wearing
my blades? Hell no. I was smarter than that. And I didn’t like pointless risks. They did nothing for me.
So, while my reckless teammates jumped up and down, including even the pouty newbie, Asher Sullivan, I looked at the
losing team. Most of them were taking their helmets off roughly as if wanting to smash them against the ice. But one of them
wasn’t angry at all.
Grayson Reed.
 He blazed around on his skates and tossed his stick to a teammate while taking his helmet off. And when he did, he wore
the goofiest smile I had ever seen. You would have been excused for thinking he had just scored the biggest victory of his life.
Someone on his team said something and Grayson Reed threw his head back and laughed out loud. As he slowed to a halt, he
twirled on his skates. Like he could feel my cool gaze on him, he turned his head and looked directly into my eyes.
Even from here, I could see him clearly. I’d clashed with him countless times on the ice. Last year, he was promoted to
assistant captain after only a couple of months. He had been on the offense like me since he joined the team. I knew his eyes
were chestnut. I knew how veins appeared on his neck when he exhausted himself. I knew what his dusty blond hair looked like
when it sweated under his helmet. And I knew those lips both when they sneered and when they grinned. I’d seen him bare his
teeth under his helmet countless times. I’d seen him challenging me and mocking me in too many encounters.
A cold wind washed over me. The muscles in my neck stiffened. It was as though I was being pulled toward him by an
invisible rope.
Grayson mock-saluted me with two fingers touching his temple. I didn’t reply but turned away from him. My teammates
were preparing to leave the rink and I followed. In the locker room, the atmosphere was more relaxed than it had been in ages.
The victory had brought us closer together, even if it was for just one moment. Beckett and Caden exchanged a respectful nod.
Even Asher wasn’t as sullen and pouty as he usually was. Sebastian had Tyler in a headlock, rubbing his head with his
knuckles, and Phoenix was next to them, laughing out loud. Jordan, Asher’s stepbrother, wore a subtle smile. Sawyer was on
his phone, probably making plans to see his boyfriend, Noah, for a round of celebratory drinks.
After we showered and dressed, some of the guys took a raincheck, Beckett gave in and decided to join us for one drink but
warned us not to go wild, and Caden shrugged and said he would sit with the team for a bit. I wondered if he had a date later or
if he just didn’t want to be exposed to Beckett all that much. Whatever. I was in a good mood after the victory. It spoke of a
turning tide.
Not that the Breakers were that hard to beat, but our season was already in shambles, so I would take what I got. When the
smaller group of us walked out of the rink, we headed straight for the Thirsty Thinker tavern. It was a sizable establishment, so
it wasn’t a big surprise to find a lot of the Blizzard Breakers congregating on one end. We smartly followed Beckett to the
opposite side of the bar.
The chatter and the music of the bar were enough of a buffer between us and our opponents that we could safely joke, laugh,
and celebrate without rubbing it in too much. A little was allowed, though.
We kicked things off with a round of beers. Our freshmen, Asher and Phoenix, waited for our seniors, Sebastian and Tyler,
to bring a double order of drinks. Nobody asked too many questions at the Thinker, but we never pushed our luck by sending
the baby-faced teammates to get their own drinks.
The party grew smaller after the first round. Jordan said something to Asher about drinking and Asher threw his hands up
so wildly that it was obvious he was fed up. He drained his drink, slapped his roommate, Phoenix, on the shoulder, and said
they would talk later. Phoenix, for his part, turned a friendly smile to everyone he came across. His tattooed arms and neck —
and as I had noticed in the locker room, chest, and some parts of the sides of his torso and smaller areas of his legs —
attempted to give him a bad-boy aura, but his grin shattered those ideas.
Jordan remained, shaking his head, and rolled his eyes when Beckett said something I could barely hear. “…him time.
He’ll understand.”
Caden didn't stay with us for long. He moved over to the bar and struck up a conversation with some guy. It didn’t take a
genius to see where things were headed. Even so, Caden made it clear after a time. He and his date were all handsy with one
another, never missing a chance to lean in while laughing. Since Beckett had been named the captain, all Caden did was flirt
around. I liked it. He deserved to have some fun. But there were moments when I felt like he was doing it in a much more
destructive fashion.
Not my place to lecture him, I decided.
Beckett clapped his hands after putting his phone inside his jacket pocket, said something I missed, and then headed toward
the bar. I watched him as he ordered drinks and the fury in his eyes when Caden and the guy kissed, bumping into Beckett’s
elbow and spilling some of his beer. The altercation was brief because Jordan intervened, but it lasted only a minute, and then
he returned, shaking his head. The two soon left the tavern one after the other and I didn’t see them for the rest of the night.
The shrinking group on our side of the bar ordered another round of drinks. Sawyer’s boyfriend, Noah, joined just then, and
my friend’s attention was redirected completely to him. I didn’t blame him. Noah was an interesting guy and objectively
handsome as hell. It was only right for Sawyer to forget about the rest of the world when Noah entered a room.
I looked to my left, where Jordan mulled over something, finished his drink, and decided to head back to the house. Across
from where he had been sitting, the conjoined twins, Tyler and Sebastian, had their phones out, tapping hurriedly. They were
probably texting their girlfriends, whose names I couldn’t remember and whose faces I couldn’t distinguish. I had seen them
both, but I would be hard-pressed to match them with their boys. Both guys were smirking. And to my right, Sawyer and Noah
were still experiencing their honeymoon phase even though they had been together for over half a year — I was starting to think
they were just simply happy.
 That left me. Alone. The fifth wheel.
My gaze wandered around the tavern. Fewer and fewer students remained. Most of the Breakers had left, too. And as I
scanned the mostly empty tables Grayson Reed’s team had occupied, my gaze landed on his oblong face.
He had been staring at me. I didn’t know for how long. But when our gazes met, I saw the spike of panic on his face. He
almost looked away but instead cocked up one side of his lips and lifted his head in a greeting. He was about to drink, so he
paused and saluted me with a tall glass of foggy beer.
My eyes narrowed. A sort of humming filled my ears. My hands were clumsy when I reached for my glass like someone
else was controlling them. I lifted the glass, pursed my lips for a moment, and then drank. Even when I looked away from him
and then returned my gaze back to him, he was facing me.
Why? Was he mocking me? Or was he angry that I had blocked him to secure the win? It was his own fault. He had been
careless, cackling like an idiot instead of focusing on the puck.
Sometimes, I felt like Sawyer was right. Maybe I was a robot. I had no clue why Grayson wasn’t talking to his friends but
instead looking in my direction every so often. I tried to be cool about it and not reveal that I was observing him, too, but he
caught me at it three or four times.
“We should head to your place,” Sawyer said to Noah. I looked at him, then checked the time. It wasn’t even eleven. Last
year, before Sawyer had met Noah, he had been a menace. Taking him out usually meant staying until dawn. Occasionally,
Sawyer would disappear for an hour or two, then reappear with the goofiest smile on his face. I’d always played along, but I
hadn’t been all too happy seeing my friend waste his time on meaningless hookups.
Not that I wasn’t guilty of quite a few myself. But the tales of my bedroom conquests were greatly exaggerated. Back then,
Sawyer had often assumed that if he was sleeping around, everyone was. Especially me. The truth was, I had never bothered
correcting him. It changed nothing and it would have involved a lot of explaining of things that even I wasn’t sure of. I’d been
around the block with a few people, but it had never felt right and so important that I would need to brag about it.
“Are you staying?” Sawyer asked me. “We’re watching Bride of Frankenstein. You can come with us.”
I wasn’t thrilled about third-wheeling tonight. “Nah, I think I’ll stay a while longer.”
“Your loss,” Sawyer singsonged.
“I really don’t think it is,” I replied.
He found it amusing and laughed, then tapped Noah’s shoulder, and the two left. I stayed, even though I wondered why. We
had done the celebrating part, we had done the falling out that was almost a tradition of the season at this point, and now I
stayed for another drink.
“Are you having another beer, guys?” I offered. “I’m buying.”
Tyler and Sebastian drained their glasses. “Never say no to a free beer. That’s my motto,” Sebastian said. His dark locks
went in all directions and his brown eyes glinted. He was tipsy, I realized.
“Right,” I said carefully, getting up from my chair. “But let’s maybe try and savor it.”
Sebastian laughed, although Tyler met my eyes with a sliver of concern. “I dunno, A. Maybe I should take him back to the
house. There’s beer in the basement if you wanna hang out.”
I instantly knew it was the best way to go. Sebastian needed to rest else Beckett would never stop riding him about it. And
Tyler was right. We had a mini fridge full of beer in the basement if that was what I wanted. But I also realized that beer wasn’t
at all what I was after.
“Can you take him?” I asked. “I think I’ll stick around a little longer.”
Tyler checked the time. “I don’t know where you find the energy.” He laughed softly. “All I want is a soft pillow under my
head and you’re going fishing at this hour.”
I snorted. Fishing. I wouldn’t correct him any more than I would Sawyer. If Tyler wanted to believe I was some sort of
Casanova, getting laid whenever I wasn’t in his field of vision, he was welcome to that fantasy. I tipped my head and winked
as the two left. There was a drunken sway to Sebastian’s stride.
Instead of sitting alone at the row of tables we had joined together, I transferred to the bar. I didn’t look left or right as I did
this, but curiosity burned within me. I’d glanced only once at the tiny group of Blizzard Breakers. Their captain sat idly,
watching his few teammates stare at their phones. He was bored.
I sat down and ordered another beer for the sake of looking occupied. Rather than pulling out my phone, I looked at the
mirror behind the shelves with booze on the other side of the bar.
The tension I felt in my chest was a strange feeling. I didn’t know what I anticipated. Grayson Reed was a skilled player
and a respected captain. He was uniquely attractive, although that didn’t matter a great deal. His good looks helped grab my
attention but did nothing else to me. Not that I couldn’t hook up. But doing it had never left me feeling particularly happy. I’d
gotten together with a few girls and a couple of guys, but it always lacked something in those encounters. I hadn’t been able to
exactly put my finger on it.
Maybe I just disliked sleeping around with strangers. And maybe I wasn’t the fondest of people who spent all their hours
chasing a cheap thrill. But then there was this guy, ruining what little I understood about myself.
 Whenever my gaze met Grayson’s, a nagging thought told me that I should entertain that option, but I couldn’t make myself
obey my own advice. I could see how handsome he was just like I could see how handsome Noah was, or Sawyer, or any of
the guys on our team for that matter. And still, I felt nothing other than a platonic appreciation of beauty.
When I looked at the mirror behind the bar again, Grayson Reed wasn’t in his chair. But the shifting figure behind my back
pulled my attention. I hadn’t even noticed him sneaking up on me like that.
“Is this spot free?” Grayson asked, his voice husky and calm. His pearly teeth closed around his lower lip. The creamy skin
on his face had a touch of pink.
What the hell was I doing here? “Yeah,” I said. “Knock yourself out. I was just leaving.”
I slipped off the chair, resolving to stick with this decision. I couldn’t tell what had made me stay here and open myself up
to him, but some sense still remained within me. He was the guy who had tried to best me on every turn all of last year. And he
was the guy I had humbled in the rink tonight.
Whatever he wanted, he wasn’t getting it from me.
 THREE

Grayson

“WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED ?” I ASKED THE EMPTY CHAIR.

My ears rang with his blatant disregard for what I had to say. I mean, I expected him to be a difficult catch, but I didn’t think
he would be impossible.
I balled my fists and turned on my heels. Spencer and Cole were snickering when I looked at the table where I’d spent the
entire night waiting for the opening.
Fuming from my ears and nostrils, I returned to my table, plopped down into the chair like an armful of wet laundry, and
pressed my tall glass of wheat ale against my pursed lips. A long sip later, I exhaled. “That did not go as planned.” Tension
slowly left my shoulders and neck as I focused on the next move. The stab at my pride was still raw, but it wasn’t a mortal
wound. “He’s elusive, that one.”
“You don’t say.” Spencer wore a lopsided grin and shook his head.
“What’s the plan, Cap?” Cole asked over the rim of his glass.
I rolled my shoulders and stretched my neck left and right, joints cracking. “Gotta think about it. I might throw out some
bigger bait.” I considered it carefully.
“You should be careful,” Cole said.
“You spooked him,” Spencer said bluntly.
“He’s not a deer,” I pointed out. Then, the voice of David Attenborough came to me and I inhaled through my nose. “Avery,
sensing the impending shift in his night, took a step away from the bar, leaving behind both the stool and the remnants of his
untasted drink. A silent cue, perhaps, to the unfolding drama of the human social ritual.”
“Makes you sound like a predator,” Spencer said.
I shrugged. “In the same way cats are, I suppose. Cuddly, but with sharp claws.” Avery was nothing like a mouse. “I’ll get
him, though.”
“Sure you will,” Spencer said skeptically.
“Maybe we picked the wrong target. Maybe it should have been Jones after all.” Cole’s dampening mood was going to kill
me.
“No,” I said, setting my glass firmly on the table after another sip. The competitor in me awakened to his fullest extent. He
wasn’t a quitter, even against the highest odds. “This was a temporary hiccup. How long do I have before you declare me a
loser?”
Spencer and Cole exchanged a look. Spencer scratched the back of his head. “We didn’t think about that, huh? A week?”
“Tsk,” Cole cut in. “They’re going out of town, right? I heard them mention some game in Milwaukee. Should be longer
than that.”
Spencer narrowed his eyes in thought. “Alright. You have to take him out on a dream date by the end of the month, then.”
I pressed my hands together and bowed to my friend. “How very generous of you.” By the end of October, I would build a
happy little family with the fucker.
Nobody dismissed me without hearing my case first. It wasn’t fair. Besides, he had caused me to lose the game and the
winning streak tonight. If it hadn’t been for him and his swinging shoulders, I would have kept my eyes on the puck and
wouldn’t have let myself get distracted.
I suppose it was the pressure of the bet hanging over my head. I lost my mind when I saw him come out to play the third
period instead of Phoenix. My heart had begun racing and I knew immediately that he would come for me without a shred of
mercy. He was their secret weapon and my kryptonite.
We finished our drinks and got a cab to take us to our campus and dormitory. Spencer was knocked out the moment his head
touched the pillow, but I stayed awake. I thought. I planned. I fantasized.
 My eyes had been practically glued to him the whole night. I had kept a vigilant watch in order not to miss him. And when I
saw an opportunity, I took it. For nothing.
Not for nothing, my calm voice of reason said. It’s a start.
And in truth, it made things more exciting. The very reason I hadn’t leaped at the opportunity to ask Caden Jones out was
the fact it would have happened after a few glances and a quick chat. The guy was on a bender.
Imagine the bragging rights when you actually score this date, I told myself. Spencer will eat his helmet and weep.
My brain worked through all the loops and always returned to the same conclusion. I knew nothing about my target. I
couldn’t plan my moves when I couldn’t predict his responses. All I knew was that he wouldn’t give me the time to present
myself based solely on my swaggering walk, my suave entreé, or my good looks.
My next step was obvious: get to know the guy. But to do that, I needed to get close to him.
I slept on it. In the morning, over a bowl of cereal, I searched the web for clues about Avery Collins. His Facebook profile
hadn’t been updated in seven years. His Instagram was locked up and displayed zero posts. If I texted him there, he would
never see it. He did not have a LinkedIn profile, which was a relief. His TikTok was also postless and private. And the biggest
relief was that I found nothing of Avery in the wasteland that had once been Twitter but had now boiled down to porn and
racism.
Stalking him online simply wasn’t going to cut it. So, I decided to apply myself the only other way I knew how. Firstly, I
discovered a frat party on his campus tonight. Immediately after that, I ordered a few open invites to be delivered by noon to
his team house and a few more to my room. I added a bunch of other student addresses to the courier all over the Northwood
campus as a decoy. Then, I left a note to my sleeping roommate to make no plans for the night because I would need a wingman
at the party.
My morning raced by. I spent a couple of hours at the gym near campus, conditioning and bringing myself to the brink of
muscle failure. It cleared my mind of everything and I spent the energy that would have otherwise gone into tapping my foot and
pacing around the dormitory. After I showered at the gym, I returned to campus, grabbed a bite on my own, stalked Avery some
more online to no avail, and returned to my room. The notes from this week’s lectures had piled up, but I ignored them to first
confirm with Spencer that we were going to the party.
“I’m inviting the impartial third party,” he joked, leaving the room to find Cole. It was a good plan. I had rarely been to a
frat party on Northwood’s campus without crossing paths with a few of the Titans. I could feel his presence already. And in the
worst case, I would strike up a conversation with someone who could give me Avery’s phone number, email address, or fax
number, depending on how rustic he was. In fact, I was prepared to send a bird if necessary.
For the rest of the day, I tried to focus on the workload that had been growing exponentially since the semester had started.
Not a lot of it agreed to sink in, so I found myself drifting away into daydreams. He was hot, that Avery Collins, in a fucked up,
psycho way. He could stare you down to shreds. I had never seen him smile. Not once. And those eyes. Cold like steel.
When it was finally time to go, I pushed the quality stock paper invites into my pocket and joined my friends. We got a ride
to the Northwood campus and walked into the Alpha Kappa Phi frat house with innocent smiles. I wondered what my parents
would have said if they knew how much it cost to print and deliver these fake invites at a moment’s notice. I wondered if they
would have cared.
Firmly putting my parents out of my mind, I inhaled a deep breath and waved the invite at one of the frat bros who hosted
the party. “Thanks for the invite, man?”
“You too?” he asked, scratching his head. “That’s weird, dude.”
I made a confused expression at him and the guy turned away, shaking his head. He decided to forget about the strange
invites by getting kegged on the far end of the sprawling common area of the old colonial house.
My friends and I found drinks and formed a private triangle. The first round took the edge off my nerves as I looked around
the house for any sign of the Titans. But when I brought us the second one, I was beginning to worry that my plan had failed.
Maybe they were just too busy. Maybe they were staying sober before the out-of-state game. Maybe Beckett Partridge tightened
the leash on his teammates.
Just as I considered that I spotted Caden Jones. He walked in with the newbie, Asher, and looked around the crowd. He
waved my fake invite at one of the hosts, who threw his hands up in despair. It made me laugh and I quickly pressed my cup
against my lips to conceal it.
The night dragged on. The techno beat of the music pounded through me as I waited. Cole and Spencer were in a heated
debate over Ali versus Tyson if both were in their prime. I had my own debate. If Avery Collins didn’t enter this house in the
next ten minutes, I would have to march up to Caden and demand help. Or beg for it. Except, I had seen a couple of guys
approaching Caden and getting a cold shower of his disregard. He was in a mood tonight.
My heart clenched and I bit my lip. I had absolutely no interest in the uppercuts Cole and Spencer mimicked to prove their
individual points. Instead, I stared at the door. Walk in, dammit. Walk the hell in. Now. Three… Two… One. Damn. I rolled my
eyes and turned away, licked my lukewarm beer, and decided to exchange it for a fresh one.
People shifted around as I marched to the open kitchen and poured myself a cold one. As I looked around, I decided to risk
it. Caden. I knew him better than that goalie, so he had to be my link. Whatever his mood was, I could at least try and get
Avery’s number from him.
I plastered on my best smile and walked up to him. His sullen face almost made me turn back. “‘Sup, Jones?”
“What do you want?” he asked.
I let out a descending whistle. “It’s nice to see you, too. Me? I’m doing great. You look ravishing tonight.”
“I’m not interested,” he said flatly. He looked to Sawyer for help, but the goalie was texting.
“That makes two of us,” I said, then bit my speeding tongue. “Can’t a guy just talk to you?”
Caden crossed his arms and leaned against the green and brown wall. “I’m not feeling conversational, Reed. What do you
need?”
“Jeez,” I moaned.
“Besides, it’s not a good look, conspiring with the enemy captain,” he added testily.
“I’ve seen your game this season. It’ll take more to convince me that you actually care what this looks like.” I laughed to
soften the blow, but it was one I couldn’t resist.
“Why don’t you walk away now while all your teeth are still in place.” Caden said quietly, seething.
I lifted my index fingers, one hand still holding my cold beer. “Because I need to humble myself by asking for your help.”
Caden stared at me. Not even a ‘go on.’ His lips were pressed into a tight line.
After a moment of awkward silence, I found my balls. “I would appreciate it if you could give me Avery’s phone number.”
“Why?” His frown was outrageous.
I rolled my eyes impatiently. “I’m trying to reach him about his car’s extended warranty.”
Caden wasn’t amused. But the goalie lifted his gaze and spared me a smirk. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” He pointed
somewhere behind me and my heart freaking tap-danced. I spun away from the moody prick and discovered my target’s
expressionless face. He was holding the fake invite and an increasingly intoxicated frat bro was shaking his head while
clasping Avery’s shoulder.
I marched toward him immediately, not even caring that I didn’t have an opening.
“…asked around. Nobody I know sent them, but you’re welcome to stay anyway,” the drunk host said.
I grinned. “So weird, huh? We all got these mysterious invites. It reminds me of Agatha Christie.”
Avery turned his cool, gray gaze to meet mine. It was all-consuming and focused like a needlepoint. “Reed.”
I shrugged and pushed myself right into the small group. “Let’s hope we all survive the night, huh?”
Avery tucked the invite into his back pocket. “What’s up?”
The frat bro sauntered away when a few of his buddies chanted the chugging call. “Hanging around,” I said. “Funny I
should run into you.” I barely kept the smirk off my face.
“Why is it funny?” Avery asked, deadly serious.
“No reason,” I said, remembering that I was talking to an actual wooden doll who had wished to be a real boy. “I didn’t get
a chance to talk to you last night.”
“That’s correct,” Avery said.
It was lucky I was an avid gym goer. Few people had the back muscles to carry the conversation like me. “You kind of ran
away from me.” My grin softened the jab in my words.
Avery narrowed his eyes and I wondered why that made him twice as sexy. Damn. He was something. I was grateful for the
crowded space when someone passed behind me and I scooted closer to my unsuspecting date-to-be. “I would never run,”
Avery said. “How many times have I crashed you into the boards instead of running?”
My temper flared faster than I could tame it. “Crashed me? Please…” I bit my tongue. I had outdone him more times than I
could count. And the number of times he had hard checked me was far inferior. But I remembered what my purpose here was. I
licked my lips and then stretched them into a warm smile. “Anyway, I was going to join you for a drink when you…left.” Not
ran.
“I didn’t realize you were going after me.” Avery’s expression was as blank as ever.
I frowned. “Seriously? I asked to sit next to you in an empty bar.”
Avery shrugged. “It was the nearest chair to the tap. Maybe you wanted your beer extra fast.”
“I wanted to talk to you,” I insisted.
My prey lifted his gaze to somewhere behind me. He gave a little nod of greeting to his friends, then looked at me again.
We were nearly the same height, although his shoes might have given him an extra inch. His smooth face and sharp lips pulled
me in. I found myself wanting to lean in. “Why?”
“Oh, wow, okay. Straight to the point.” I forced out a laugh. “If you really wanna know, I was going to ask you out.”
“While being out and sitting next to me?” Avery asked, cocking his head.
“Well, yeah, but it’s not the same. Dude. I wanted to ask you out on a date.” My words left my lips, but it was hard to tell
based on his statuesque expressions whether he comprehended them.
“Er…” He cleared his throat. “Look, my friends are waiting for me.” He winced a little.
 I grabbed my chest. “You’re breaking my heart, man. They can wait a minute longer.”
He visibly held his breath.
“So, from one to America, how free are you next weekend for a date with me?” I had an urge to cross my arms protectively,
but I didn’t want to send any mixed messages. The truth was, I was scared to hear his answer.
He didn’t laugh. “Why would you want to go on a date with me?” he asked. That was as close to a genuine surprise as I had
ever seen him. “You don’t even know me.”
I bit my tongue for an instant. “Do you know what? That’s exactly what I was thinking. And it came to me that when two
people don’t know each other, they arrange a time and a place to correct that error. You know? Like a date.”
“Are you being condescending?” he asked, eyes narrow in suspicion.
“I’m making a joke, Collins,” I said lightly.
“That’s your idea of a joke? I think you need to work on the delivery as well as the punchline.” He deadpanned so well that
I barked out a laugh.
“That’s a good one.” I dared to clasp his shoulder. Fuck. He was tense and muscled. I wondered what it would feel like if
he wasn’t wearing a shirt and an undershirt. My fingertips tingled when I touched him and I just knew a lot more would buzz in
my body if we got to touch each other more. The fact that he was so composed and cool made him a million times sexier. And
the fact that he was practically immune to my charm frustrated me as much as it inspired me to do better.
“Not a joke, Reed,” Avery corrected me, but his tone was a little more melodic and amused.
“Come on. It’s just a date. How horrible can it be?” I pressed on.
“At best? As bad as this. Can you give up, please?” He didn’t step back, though. He let me hold his shoulder. It was
electric and exciting. Warmth pooled in my stomach.
I shook my head while smiling. “Charming. But no. I’d like to get to know you. I think we have a lot in common. We’re both
wingers. We’re both loyal to our teams. We’re both handsome as fuck. Wink, wink.”
He didn’t bite. “We’re opponents, Reed,” he said flatly. “You’re a Blizzard Loser; I’m an Arctic Titan. You’re my worst
nightmare out there. And we should remain loyal to our teams.” He sighed. “So, this,” as he gestured his hand back and forth
between us, “is not gonna happen.”
And yet, he wasn’t pulling back. But I knew how far I could stretch a rubber band. “Look, I’ll cut you a great deal. I don’t
want to turn on my stalker mode, but I will if I have to. So, I’ll let you go now, but you have to let me keep trying.”
The corners of Avery’s lips quivered. There was pure suspicion in his eyes, but I was getting to him a little.
“Give me your phone number. I swear to use it only when it’s appropriate. And only to convince you to go out with me.” I
pulled back from him and extended a friendly hand for a handshake. “What say you?”
Avery hesitated. He could have told me he didn’t want to be convinced. He could have told me to go fuck myself. Yet he
said neither of those things. “You’re really hell-bent on trying, huh?”
“You know it,” I said. “Gimme.” I pulled my phone out and handed it to him.
Reluctantly, Avery took my phone and typed in his phone number. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he muttered. And, as he
handed me back my phone, he looked into my eyes warningly. “This is not a yes. Don’t get your hopes up.”
I grinned with unfiltered pride. “You won’t regret it.”
 FOUR

Avery

I REGRETTED IT .
Around four in the morning, my phone dinged. I had been sleeping lightly. Sawyer was staying with Noah, so the room was
all mine, and I had drifted to sleep with a lamp on. I glanced at my phone. I didn’t need to have his number memorized to know
it was Grayson Reed.
Serious question: if aliens invaded the Earth and you were the first human they encountered, what would be
your intergalactic icebreaker?

I stared at the message for a hot minute. Was he serious? At four in the morning? Sighing, I switched my phone to silent. It
wasn’t a bulletproof solution, but I slept for another couple of hours. My phone vibrated only once more in the time I dozed.
And when I carried it downstairs with me for breakfast, I discovered another text from the same number.
Bear with me, Collins. If you could have dinner with any celebrity, dead or alive, who would it be? And more
importantly, what are we ordering for takeout tonight?

I didn’t have much time to think about Grayson Reed. Whatever his plans were, they wouldn’t come true. We were natural
foes. That was simply our fate. Besides, I was desperately bored of sleeping around. In all the years of college, I had learned
that much at least.
Days seemed to race by one after the other. Practice, lectures, practice, and lectures again. I didn’t see Reed, although I
kept getting a steady volume of text messages throughout the week. One time, after practice, I grabbed my phone to check the
time and found a new level of weirdness.
If you were a dance move, which one would you be? I’m feeling like an awkward penguin waddle. Wanna
practice on the dance floor tonight?

The night before we left for our out-of-state game, I was skimming through a textbook at the library, and my phone dinged,
causing a few annoyed exhales nearby.
Not even kidding. If you were a pizza topping, would you be a classic pepperoni or a fun pineapple? More to
the point, care to come by and help me make the perfect flavor?

I shook my head and gritted my teeth. I would have to block this number. And burn this phone. And fake my death. And start
a new life overseas as a Flamenco dancer. Yet I couldn’t deny it; the relentlessness was amusing. For now.
The morning of our departure for the game in Milwaukee, it finally looked like he was about to lose interest in me.
How do you expect us to get to know each other if you never fill out any of my surveys? Apply yourself,
Collins.

Part of me was fine with putting this whole thing to rest. It wasn’t going to go anywhere. Why drag it out? Another part had
gotten used to the constant flow of texts.
I wanted to let it go. Truly. I knew that the best thing I could do was keep silent and hope for it to blow over. He would lose
interest — they all did — and move on. Then, I could go back to my peaceful existence. Even so, I kept glancing at my phone
every so often, but he had stopped the avalanche.
So we went to Milwaukee and something strange happened that took my mind off Grayson Reed. We won the game. It was a
struggle, but we were victorious on our second night there. And the strangest part was the fact that our victory was squarely
earned by Caden and Beckett’s cooperation. Something passed between them in the moment of the highest tension that I filed
into a separate compartment of my mind, like one of those unsolvable mysteries, and I decided to just be glad of the win.
 I was ridiculously happy afterward when we found a bar a couple of streets away from the hotel room. Caden, who had
gotten a rough treatment on the ice, had disappeared for a short time, then showed up and talked to Beckett like they had truly
been friends for ages. Sawyer was on the phone with Noah, and I was fiddling with my phone, wondering if Grayson was
playing a game tonight.
Not that it mattered.
But he usually texted by eight in the evening.
I scrolled through his silly texts, sniffing at a few and almost chuckling at one. Guys around me talked, joked, and laughed,
but I drummed my fingers against the table and reminded myself over and over again that it was safer not to engage.
Even I was a little surprised when I realized I was typing.
Bert, I suppose.

It was short and crisp, and it didn’t invite a reply, exactly, but I had to bite down my grin because Grayson’s message came
almost instantly after.
Figures. That would make me Ernie. You do realize they are a couple, right? Should I pop the champagne?

Nope. We’re not doing that.

Fair enough. You can’t blame a guy for trying, though.

When my ears hurt, I realized they were perking so hard that my face was stretching and my lips were…oh god. Am I
smiling? Damn him.
If you were a fruit, you know, just hanging out on a tree, which one would you be? I'm personally feeling like
a rebellious banana today.

What kind of a question is that?

Duh. Silly me. It’s obvious. You’re a coconut.

I don’t get it. How am I a coconut?

See, if you weren’t a coconut, you would totally understand. But this way, you’re just proving my point. I
propose you prove it some more in person. Over a Sauvignon. With the view of downtown Detroit.

I didn’t agree to a date, Reed. And I knew replying was gonna be a mistake.

You wound me. Anyway, what will be the theme song for our date next week?

No.

Oh, I got it. ABBA’s ‘Lay All Your Love On Me.’

Nope. ‘Knowing Me, Knowing You.’

No fucking way!!! Dude. You know ABBA songs? Dude! Also, that’s a fucked up choice. Very pessimistic.

I chuckled under my breath and looked around, trying to think of a response. He beat me to it, quick and witty as he was.
Hold on. You picked our theme song. So, we’re going on a date?

Why do you even want to go on a date with me, Reed?

He wasn’t coming near my bed, I was sure of that. No matter how handsome, I wasn’t going to sleep with him. Or anyone,
for that matter. I had to take a step back and figure myself out.
Do I need a secret agenda? It’s a date, Avery. I think I’ll wear a bowtie to impress you.

I bit my lip and closed my eyes. Grayson Reed wearing a bowtie was not something I had expected to be daydreaming
about. Yet here I was, imagining him straightening it. My heart clenched and I swallowed the knot in my throat.
“Earth to Avery,” Sawyer was saying. “Are we ordering another one or not?”
“Huh? Oh. Yeah. Sure,” I said, my mind still swirling around the monolithic idea of Grayson Reed in a bowtie, arriving for
our date. There had been some commotion around me and Beckett and Caden weren’t around. I didn’t think about them for too
long, though, because my thoughts quickly returned to Grayson. If his mission had been to confuse me or distract me the next
time we faced each other in the rink, I was afraid he nearly succeeded. I wouldn’t let him, but it was hard to keep this weird,
tickling sensation out of my fingertips.
 “You’re awfully cheerful, buddy,” Sawyer said.
“Last I checked, it was still legal,” I pointed out.
Sawyer opened his mouth and widened his slanted, hazel eyes. “Are you getting cheeky with me?” He shook his head
playfully. “I like it.”
Our drinks arrived and thankfully interrupted my friend’s curiosity. We toasted to our victory and I set my phone aside
despite the excruciating itch to check if Grayson had texted some more. It wouldn’t hurt him if I left him hanging for a while
longer.
After Sawyer and I returned to our room, we were fairly quiet. Our room had two single beds with nightstands between
them. There was a small flat-screen TV mounted to the wall and a coffee table below it. Two chairs were placed around the
table. A dresser, a closet, and a mirror made up the rest of the furniture. A small private bathroom was attached to our room.
I expected Sawyer to call Noah for their goodnight chat, but he didn’t.
I lay still, my fingers twined on my stomach, my gaze glued to the ceiling.
Sawyer tapped at his screen while I resisted the urge to do the same. He could wait until I figured out what to do with him.
This sudden desire to go on a date with me wasn’t sinking in.
“You didn’t stay out,” Sawyer said casually as he tossed his phone on the nightstand.
I turned my head right to look at him. His legs were tangled in the twisted comforter. He wore a white T-shirt and boxer
briefs, ready for sleeping. I hadn’t undressed yet. “Did you want the room?”
“What? No.” His voice cracked a little. It wouldn’t have been the first time we were out of town and Sawyer missed Noah
so much that they needed to “chat privately.” I resolutely did not think of what Sawyer did in our shared room on such
occasions. “I’m just asking,” he explained. “You never miss an opportunity when we’re away. That’s all.”
“Oh,” I said. That wasn’t entirely true. It wasn’t completely false, either. “I’m tired.” It was a lame excuse. I held my breath
for a time, then exhaled with a new sense of determination. “I gotta tell you something…” And the determination rocked.
“Shoot,” Sawyer said.
I was silent for a long while, looking at the ceiling again.
“You’re starting to spook me, Avery,” Sawyer said in a darker tone. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. It’s not like that.” I drummed my fingers against my chest. “It’s just…I don’t…” Why was this so hard to get over
my lips? “I don’t actually screw around.”
Sawyer might have laughed had I said this outright. Instead, he looked at me worriedly. Probably because he could see that
I was having a hard time talking. We had always been close, but neither of us was particularly chatty. Our friendship was built
on mutual understanding and respect rather than long-winded conversations.
I sat up abruptly, set my feet on the floor between our beds, and rested my elbows on my knees. “I mean, I was, but not as
much as you think.”
Sawyer sat up partially, lifting the pillow to rest his back on it against the headboard. “Um…okay? Wait, is there something
bad about that?”
I thought about it for a moment. The worst of it was simple. “I lied. By omission.”
Sawyer flattened his eyebrows and snorted. “Half the guys exaggerate, Avery. We’re good.” And after a moment, he added,
“Are you sure everything’s fine?”
I scratched my head in frustration. “It’s just that I can’t make a lot of sense out of it myself.” And I wasn’t sure I wanted to
spill all the details to Sawyer. I didn’t even know what this thing with Grayson Reed was except that it tickled me somewhere
deep in my chest. “We’re in college. Everyone’s always hooking up and then telling the tale. It’s almost part of the mandatory
curriculum at this point.”
Sawyer laughed. “Your comedy classes are paying off.”
I wasn’t taking any comedy classes. It didn’t matter right now. “For the sake of being honest, I gotta admit, I never liked it
that much. So I was thinking, maybe there’s something wrong with me. I remember you last year, before you met Noah, living
for it. Night after night, dude. You didn’t miss a single party on campus for an entire semester. Me? I couldn’t care less if I
scored with someone.”
Sawyer let out a long exhale. “There’s nothing wrong with you, man.”
“You think so? Because I feel like there really is. I feel like I’m seriously messed up because I’m not nearly as interested in
hooking up as you all were.” I rubbed my face.
Sawyer’s silence was short. He shifted and set his feet on the floor. “You need to remember that I lost all that interest when
I met the right guy. Frankly, it was a little sad. I didn’t know what I was missing before my lessons with Noah started. Maybe
it’s everyone else that’s mad. Did you think about that?”
I snorted. “Right. That’s not really how madness works, though.”
“Let me ask you something,” he said carefully. “What brought this on?”
It was my turn to be quiet for a time. And when I spoke, I tried to be as careful about the details as possible. “Okay…
there’s this guy. He’s really attractive. And I mean, really hot.”
 “Grayson.”
I looked up at Sawyer’s amused smile, my heart torn between leaping at the mention of his name and sinking with dread at
the secret being out. “Not naming any names.”
“Oh. Got it. But…it’s Grayson.” Sawyer laughed out loud.
“Why would you even think that?” I demanded.
“Because he asked for your number,” Sawyer explained. “And I told him to ask you personally.” He rubbed his hands,
excitement rising to his face. “Alright, so what about this ‘hot guy?’”
I sniffed. “This doesn’t leave the room, alright?”
Sawyer gestured to zip his lips and nodded his agreement.
It had been easier to talk when it was a secret, but I was too deep into it to pull out now. “I dunno. He’s into me, I guess.
He’s been asking me out on a date nearly every day since the party. I said I wouldn’t, but he isn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer.”
“If he’s bothering you…”
I interrupted him right there. “It’s not like that. Between you and me, I kind of like it. He’s really trying.”
“And the problem is?” Sawyer nudged. He seemed genuinely happy with what I was telling him, even if it felt like a perfect
storm inside my head.
“The problem is that I’m not into hooking up with anyone, let alone the enemy captain.” I blinked twice at Sawyer. I was
pretty sure the problems were obvious.
My friend nodded deeply. Then, he looked into my eyes. “Let’s set aside the fact that you apparently can’t mess around with
him because he’s a Blizzard Breaker. Why do you think he’s only trying to hook up?”
It seemed obvious to me. Why else would he want to go out with me?
“Maybe he likes you. You know? Maybe he really likes you. Or he’s attracted to you and wants to see if you feel the same.
And maybe — bear with me — you could go on a date with him and not fuck him if you don’t feel like it.” Sawyer was
grinning more with each sentence he said. “People are complicated, man. You’re no different. If sex for the sake of sex isn’t
your thing, then just don’t have it. But don’t deny yourself the opportunity when you like someone.”
I scoffed. “Who said anything about me liking him?” I wasn’t even sure I did.
“Oh buddy, if you didn’t like him, you would never have given him your phone number.” His smile was obnoxiously
victorious. And I had to give it to him. I was curious about where Grayson was going with this. I absolutely wouldn’t get my
hopes up. And I wouldn’t hurry into his bed just because I thought everyone expected nothing other than sex. And I definitely
wouldn’t make it easy. When had I ever done that about anything?
I thanked Sawyer for listening, flicked the lamp off, and found my phone under my pillow. I couldn’t remember leaving it
there. The message on the screen made me bite my lip.
Grayson: My bowtie must have left you speechless. Prepare yourself. I have plenty more surprises for you.
A chuckle escaped me. Damn him.
“Dude,” Sawyer whispered. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” I muttered. I wanted to bite the pillow.
“Nah-ah, you laughed,” Sawyer said, his voice strung with held-back laughter.
“I didn’t,” I said flatly. “I choked.”
He was silent for a few heartbeats. Then, like an afterthought that didn’t need any debating, he mused, “You really should
go on a date with him.”
I shut my phone off, undressed in the dark, and turned away from my friend. When I pulled the comforter up to my neck, I
shut my eyes, and the same old image of Grayson Reed in a dotted white shirt, wearing a bowtie and maybe a pair of
suspenders like a hot geek, floated before my eyes.
It was the image I went to sleep with. And he was still on my mind when I woke up the next morning.
 FIVE

Grayson

I CHUCKLED AT MYSELF AND THE WORK I HAD DONE. ALL IN ALL, IT WAS A PRODUCTIVE MORNING . I STARED AT THE STACK OF
postcards. I am so gonna get you, I thought.
Two streets away from my dormitory, there was a shop that matched all my needs. At Cupid’s, they specialized in grand
gestures, the art of seduction, and happily ever afters. From personalized chocolate box combos to elaborate flower
arrangements, from suggestive and naughty toys for laughs to specially tailored plushies, they had it all. And the best part? For
a fee, they provided local delivery services for secret admirers. Not that I planned on being anything but bombastically loud
and obvious. I wanted Avery to have to face the courier each morning.
I grabbed the stack of cards I’d filled out, the grin on my face indestructible, and headed out. Spencer was hanging out with
Cole on a bench in a sunny spot, although cold air was winning the battle of seasons, and the two of them spotted me.
“Captain Reed, Sir.” Cole saluted.
“Speak, peasant,” I said, earning a punch in the shoulder. It was absolutely warranted. “Careful,” I cried. “I need these
intact.” I clutched the bundle of cards.
Spencer snickered. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Not even close,” I corrected him. “I am dead serious. What do you think?”
My friends grabbed the cards and split them between each other. “There’s got to be thirty cards here,” Cole pointed out.
“Thirty exactly,” I said.
“You only have eighteen days left, Captain,” Spencer said, shuffling through the cards.
“Don’t mix them. I ordered them precisely for that reason. After the last day of the bet, they get increasingly more pathetic,”
I said, shrugging.
Cole flipped one of those around and read it out loud. “Newsflash, heartbreaker: I am Tinkerbell. Your disdain for my
letters has made my fairy wings sag. I am on my pixie deathbed. Send attention. ASAP. Winged and wounded — your Snarky
Tink.”
I was damn proud of that one, but my friends rolled their eyes.
“Dearest Avery,” Spencer read. “I write to you with the utmost urgency to request your attendance at Tiki Lounge for a day
of pampering. Please check the box for the date that suits you best and return to the sender. Note that there is no way to decline
this. You are absolutely trapped. Yours desperately, Grayson Reed.” Spencer shot me a contemptuous look. “Have some
dignity, dude.”
I laughed out loud. “Don’t you worry about my dignity.”
“Dear Avery, it looks like you are a hard guy to drag out of your room. Let me bring a date to you, then. No one has to
know. I’ll bring a ladder and sneak in through your window. Gray.” Cole chuckled at that one and shook his head. “Do you
maybe think we’re harassing the poor guy?”
My heart dropped. They didn’t know Avery. I mean, I didn’t know him either, but I knew a whole lot more about my date-
to-be and rink-rival than my friends did. Deep down, Avery was enjoying it. His text messages, while sporadic as fuck, had
told me as much. “He’s fine,” I said. “Now, I need to mail these out.”
Spencer sorted the cards for me the way they had been, then handed them back to me. But as I took them, the grip tightened
on his end. “You’re really taking this dare seriously.”
I looked into his eyes and attempted a mix of iron determination and friendly playfulness. “Don’t dare me if you’re not
ready to see me in action.”
Spencer surrendered the cards, but his expression remained unsure and reluctant.
“What?” I asked.
He shrugged and exchanged a look with Cole. “Nothing.” Sometimes, silence was a bigger motivator than any question you
could ask. Spencer simmered in it for a minute, then finally broke. “You have an obsessive personality, Gray. I’m wondering if
it was smart to challenge you like that.”
“I do not,” I said, incredulous, and grabbed my chest with over-the-top surprise.
“Oh yeah? Remember when you watched the original Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy every Friday for a year? You could
quote the whole thing. More to the point, you never missed a chance to tell everyone it was the greatest movie trilogy since The
Lord of the Rings.” Spencer’s piercing gaze was solely on me. Cole snickered at the revelation.
“Because it is,” I insisted. “I like my swashbuckling pirates swaggering on their ships. And Davy Jones is the greatest
villain of all time.” I fake-choked up. “It breaks my heart to think about him.”
“That’s what I was telling you about,” Spencer explained to Cole, then turned to me again. “The fact is, when you get into
something, you go all the way. And this isn’t the time to get distracted, Gray. We just lost our winning streak ten days ago. We
should be focused.”
“You’re making a problem where there isn’t one,” I said coolly. I was the captain of this team, not my best friend. He
needed to remember that. “I am giving it my best. This thing with Avery? It’s all for shits and giggles.”
Spencer surrendered. “If you say so. Alright.”
“You go get him, Cap,” Cole added, but not nearly as lightly as before.
I walked away with the cards in my hands. My friends were wrong. I wasn’t losing focus because of Avery. I was as
dedicated to my team as ever. This whole thing was pure fun and nothing else. It was no different than hanging out with friends.
As for my obsessive nature, Spencer might have had a bit of a point. I tend to love things hard and fast. But those things
passed, too, so it wasn’t like I had a problem on my hands.
My phone buzzed in my pocket when I turned the corner and saw Cupid’s at the end of the street. I might have been a tad too
excited when I felt the vibration against my leg. I pulled my phone out and chuckled with delight.
Just when I thought I was out of choices, you finally gave up!

I was letting you catch your breath, honey. You’re never getting rid of me.

Avery left it at that, not even suspecting that he was about to receive a wizarding school level of mail unless he went out on
a date with me.
“That’s an impressive stack,” the young man behind the counter said while counting the cards. Each card was from their
shop and each was uniquely designed. I had decided against repeating them for these thirty days.
“I’d like him to get one each morning. Is that possible?” I already knew the answer.
“Absolutely,” the guy said. “We can have them delivered first thing every day.”
“And don’t stop unless I call and say so, please,” I said. In case Avery agreed on this date, I would flood him with gifts
other than cards. For now, though, this was as good as it got.
The guy took my card and enabled a repeat payment option, then assured me they would start delivering them the following
day. He wished me luck with my romantic endeavors and suggested I should look around the shop for more ideas. I said I was
fully aware of their entire assortment and had grand plans, which made him laugh.
As I returned to campus, I wondered if Spencer would suggest dropping this whole dare. He seemed close to calling quits
on it earlier. And what would I do then? Chase a guy mercilessly without a cute excuse? Creepy. Or worse, would I have to
stop?
The thing about Avery Collins was that talking to him always made me laugh. Not that he was a comedian type — we could
safely rule that one out — but his attitude cheered me up. His cynical views and the way sarcasm flew over his head made me
chuckle. The way he enabled my silly jokes made me feel good about myself. And whenever he engaged with my wacky side, I
felt a little closer to him.
It was odd to run into him three days later. Not that it was a surprise, though, since I was the one who crossed the city to
crash a party at the Northwood campus. Cole had accompanied me and Spencer had scored his own date. So when I spotted
Avery on the far side of the frat house, I debated leaving my friend hanging immediately or leaving him hanging a little later.
Avery’s rate of replies to my text messages was around four-to-one these few days, but they were good replies. And they
were made better when I caught him looking at me from the corner of the large common room. His teeth clamped on his lower
lip when our gazes collided and I felt like a cartoon character who had just smelled a freshly baked pie. I wasn’t going to let
myself float all the way there. I didn’t want to spook him. But I also had a good feeling about winning the challenge tonight.
And scoring a date.
The truth was, I didn’t care about the challenge at all. It was an easy excuse for sappy behavior. And it was a shield that
protected me from feeling lame. Who chased a guy this hard for such small returns? Not someone who didn’t have a pretty
solid way to protect his ego by saying it had all been a ruse.
But it didn’t feel like a ruse when his gray eyes met mine and his ears perked. His high fade and soft, stylish hair begged to
be felt by my fingertips.
It occurred to me that I hadn’t bothered scoring a date since the dare. Avery had been the sole target on my mind. Maybe I
was getting a little obsessive, but it was something I could control.
“What are you waiting for?” The voice asked. For the briefest of moments, I imagined it was Avery urging me to go for it.
Then I looked at the source and found Cole watching me with a cheeky smirk.
“Let him wonder,” I said confidently. “He expects me to go there. I’ll bet you anything he has a list of places to get to as
soon as I come close. He’ll let his guard down if he starts thinking he’s free of me.”
“You think about these things too much,” Cole said lazily.
“Doesn’t everyone?” I asked.
My friend laughed out loud. “Last I checked? Nope.”
“How do you seduce someone who is convinced you’re a bad idea, then?” I asked.
Cole’s face went blank with confusion. His brow wrinkled a little and he cocked his head. “I…don’t. I move on.”
It was my turn to be shocked. “But it’s the sweetest when you work hard for it.”
“Man, I’ve got enough struggles on my plate,” he said. “Dating is not one of them. If a girl rolls her eyes at me like Collins
does at you, I would be out of there and never try again.”
I pressed my index finger against Cole’s chest. “You, my friend, are missing out. Avery doesn’t actually hate me. And he
doesn’t really think I’m an annoying stinkbug who solely exists to pester him. Dating is all about freestyling, and the sooner you
get that, the sooner you’ll discover how fun the chase is.”
Cole considered it and dismissed it. “Sometimes, I think you enjoy the chase more than the actual rewards.”
I would have said something clever, but it was my guard that was down, and it was Avery’s hand that slapped my shoulder.
“Not even a ‘hello?’” His voice was pretty flat, which I was starting to learn meant nothing at all. He was a tame, composed
creature. He was as stable as a mountain. His steady demeanor wasn’t a show of disregard. It was just Avery Collins.
Cole smirked and pulled away, melting into the crowd. And the crowd dimmed in my field of vision. Everything grew still,
and all that remained was this tall, handsome guy, his composed posture, and his intense gaze.
I felt a tingling rise from my stomach and take hold of my heart. “Why waste breath on that when we could be making out?”
Avery’s lips stiffened and his face hardened. I wondered if that was almost a smile. “Slow down, soldier.”
“What for?” I asked. This might have been the wrong course to take if I wanted to convince him a date with me was
something he would enjoy. Then again, I couldn’t let my gaze drift to his lips without feeling the fire blaze in me and wanting to
kiss him.
Damn. I am really starting to like this guy.
“I’m here,” I pointed out and laughed it off. “And you keep resisting.”
Avery moved his hand behind his back and pulled something out of his back pocket. A card. One of mine. It featured two
illustrated dinosaurs with the caption: “We could be dino-mite together.” He licked his lips and read the back. “If I were a
painter, you’d be my masterpiece. Let’s brush strokes together at your place. GR.” Avery lifted his gaze to meet mine and
pushed the card back into his pocket. “I got it this morning.”
I shared a proud smile. “And the other two? Do you carry them around as well?”
Avery’s eyes twinkled for a moment before the spark went out. “I forgot it was in my pocket.”
“Ah, of course,” I said and nodded gravely. “Stowaway cards are such a modern-day nuisance.”
“Alright. Fine. I expected to catch you,” he admitted levelly.
“And you figured you would RSVP in person. Delightful!” My smile was genuine. I lifted my free hand and set it on his
shoulder. Normally, it would help the other person lean into a positive reply, but this was more about my need to feel him near
me. I wanted him. It was that simple. Nothing Spencer and Cole said could change this little fact. Avery was elusive yet oddly
flirtatious. He acted like he didn’t care either way. These things only made me want to show off more. “What will it take for
you to agree to that date of ours?”
“I was going to ask what it would take for you to stop flooding my inbox with lovesick cards,” he said softly. The corners
of his lips twitched a little.
“Oh, darling, we both know the answer to that.” My grin was hard to control. He was going to say yes. I could barely keep
my heart from blowing up. “Besides, I can’t make any promises as to what you will or won’t receive. I know where you live,
Collins.”
“I’ll move, I swear to God, Reed.” Avery played along. I knew it in my bones. He loved this careful dance as much as I
did.
“If you really want me to stop,” I said and pulled him closer, wrapping my arm in a friendly way around his shoulders and
leaning close to his ear. “All you have to do is join me for a date.”
His ears perked up, but he remained calm and composed. “And then you will stop stalking?”
My smile widened. “If you still want me to by the time our date ends.” I crossed my heart. “But you won’t.”
Avery slipped from my hold and looked into my eyes. “You are really sure of yourself, Reed. You know, that’s why I love
slamming you against the boards.”
Flutters filled my stomach even as my competitive nature roared to life. We’ll see about that the next time you face me on
the ice. “If it makes you happy, babe, I’ll let you slam me all the way.”
His eyebrows fell flat over his eyes. “Even I can tell that’s an innuendo.”
I reminded myself that Avery wasn’t someone who exhibited a great deal of physical attraction or his sexuality. What I
knew were rumors. I knew he was into guys enough to entertain the idea of going out with me. Or to text me when he was
bored. I switched the subject. “I heard about Milwaukee. Great job.”
“You just wait until we meet again,” Avery said, wagging his finger between us. “We’re turning the tide.”
“No shit. It only took you guys half a semester,” I said, laughing.
He shrugged. “That’s true. We had a couple of false starts. But we’re coming for you now.”
“Ooh. I’m ready. Take me, big guy.” I winked at him and reveled in the slight ghost of a smile that touched his lips. He
shook his head right away as if shaking the smile off his face.
The curious look in his eyes was all that clued me in on the fact he was actually amused by me. “How do you do that?” he
asked, but I was sure he was just wondering aloud.
“Be this irresistible? It’s in my blood,” I said with my cockiest grin.
He sniffed a chuckle. “How do you just pick someone and decide to annoy them into having a date?” he asked bluntly and
without hesitation.
I wanted to laugh so hard that my stomach shook, but I threw my arm over his shoulders and pulled him close enough to
practically press my lips against his ear. “Maybe I just like you a lot.”
My heated breath must have tickled his earlobe because he slid away from me, craning his neck and tilting his head. “Why,
though?”
“Check yourself out in the mirror, dude,” I said, incredulous. “Why do you think?”
He looked straight into my eyes and I felt like he was reading my mind and gazing into my soul. There was such fierce
intensity in that look. For all the emotion lacking on his face, his eyes carried an abundance of feelings. It was easy to miss and
just assume his looks were nothing more than a cold disdain. I liked that it took effort to see what was below the surface. “If I
do this, Reed — if — I’m not going to sleep with you.”
“Never say never, Collins,” I said lightly.
He shook his head thoughtfully. “I mean it. I’m not a playboy.”
“Reformed?” I teased, but it flew over his head as usual.
“Bored,” he explained, but his voice was low, like he didn’t want anyone overhearing. “It’s not my thing.”
“Good,” I said.
A short silence lingered between us. Avery appeared stiffer and cooler. He quickly blinked twice and licked his lips. “Do
you still…want that date?”
My heart grew quicker than I had imagined it was possible. He wanted it. He actually wanted it. And he was afraid that the
terms had changed. Oh, Avery. You need a hug. I smiled. “Did you really think I only wanted us to hook up? That’s what
Grindr’s for.”
Avery’s face hardened a little more. He pressed his lips into a tight line. Such insecurity. He couldn’t be sexier if he tried.
“Isn’t that what everyone always wants?”
“Not everyone. And not always.” I shot him my sweetest smile. You’re only winning a bet, asshole, I thought, and a pang of
guilt clutched my heart. It wasn’t true. It wasn’t just that silly dare. I’d been thrilled when they pointed to Avery. The challenge,
the possibilities, and the rewards. I wanted this guy to like me.
Avery nodded. “Okay, then.”
I laughed out loud because I couldn’t contain it. “Excellent. When? Are you playing on Friday? I need time to figure out the
details. And don’t think I’ll stop with those cards until you show up to our big date.”
The skepticism on his face was precious. “Ah, alright. Friday’s fine. After practice. I can meet you around eight.”
I didn’t want to show him that I was ecstatic. The whole dare thing paled in comparison with the excitement I felt about
this. Just the two of us, romance in the air, and a bit of razzle-dazzle. “I have a better idea. I’ll pick you up after practice.” I
shot him a grin and waited for him to chew on that. He sighed like an exhausted rabbit who accepted his fate.
“I guess that works, too,” he said. He tipped his head, held my gaze a moment longer, then pulled back from me.
I couldn’t take my eyes off him. The smooth fade of the sides of his head and the clean, soft skin of his neck held my
attention. I watched his broad shoulders swing, the earring in his left ear dangle subtly, and I noticed a slender line of ink
extending from behind his ear down his neck. It was sexy as hell. It made me wonder where else he was tattooed.
He wouldn’t show me such things on Friday. I was sure Avery wasn’t a liar. He was probably incapable of a lie. And he
wasn’t into a quickie. Not that it was part of that damned dare, but I was growing more and more interested in what Avery had
to offer.
I knew there was something insatiable deep inside of me. I knew I had a perpetually simmering lust within me. And Avery
was fanning those embers better than anyone I’d ever met before. Maybe it was the very fact that he wasn’t willing to give in so
easily. Maybe it was just the calm and composed presence that he was.
I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, but there had to be a reason why I couldn’t get Avery Collins out of my head.
 SIX

Avery

I DIDN ’ T REALIZE IT UNTIL THE LAST MOMENT , BUT THIS CRAZY THING I HAD AGREED TO HAD BEEN HANGING OVER MY HEAD FOR
the entire week. True to his word, Grayson continued sending the postcards. On Friday morning, the day of our dreaded date,
the courier brought a card and a box of chocolate. “Increasing firepower,” he explained with a casual laugh. He couldn’t have
been much older than me, if at all. He looked like a college student with a part-time gig.
“He’s driving your sales off the charts, huh?” I accepted the gifts for the day.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” he said.
I eyed the courier and wondered if he was part of Grayson’s elaborate plan. Was he supposed to sweet-talk me into liking
Grayson? I wouldn’t admit it to a stranger, but Grayson’s effort was wasted. I already liked him despite my best efforts not to.
“Do you do this a lot?” I asked, chatting idly.
“It’s my mom’s shop,” the guy said. “I practically grew up there. I’m telling you, guys like him don’t come that often. We get
two, maybe three, consecutive orders before they give up. Or win their sweetheart over.” He had a dreamy way of speaking,
and his big, blue eyes shone like he was being swept off his feet by Grayson’s efforts.
I exhaled through my nose, holding the heart-shaped box of chocolate, and shook my head. “Thanks,” I said.
That day, I felt the anticipation stronger than ever. He was on my mind during the lectures, while I conditioned, and at the
drills. I couldn’t put him out of my head without feeling the absence, which in turn led me back to thinking about him.
Why me? I didn’t get it. It was too quick, too abrupt, too out-of-nowhere.
Even as I managed to keep my focus on the puck and do the hard drills with my teammates, part of me had to wonder. What
did he expect? Nobody put so much effort into a one-night-stand. And if that were what he was doing, he would be
disappointed. I had decided, once and for all, I was done chasing the high of a hookup. It was unattainable. I didn’t like it. And
I wouldn’t force myself to try it again.
I wasn’t sure about anything else. That was the only line I had drawn in the sand.
“You have to do what feels right for you,” Sawyer had said a couple of days ago. We had talked again and his position
hadn’t changed. “But I’m glad you’re giving him a shot.”
I wasn’t sure if I was glad. The risks were high and there were too many unknowns. And the worst of all, I liked him. I
liked him just enough for it to suck if it all fell through. But it wouldn’t kill me.
I told that to myself as I got ready after practice. Text messages kept my phone awake for the final hour before our agreed
time.
Sixty minutes, Collins. Counting down…

The bow tie is locked and loaded.

I changed it to a regular slim tie. Can’t decide.

[View attachment.] Can you help me pick one out?

When I opened the last text to check out the photos he had attached, my heart hammered rapidly in my chest. Two bathroom
selfies greeted me. Grayson wore a towel securely around his waist, but that was it. Around his neck, he had a striped white
and blue bowtie in one photo and a cornflower blue tie reaching to his belly button in the other. He wore a fake frown of
indecision and a ghost of a cheeky smirk on his lips.
Let me see what you are wearing so I can make sure we don’t look the same. I’m leaving that level of
codependence for the second date.
 I’m not wearing anything. Let me get ready.

I swear, I hadn’t meant to be provocative. I had merely stated a fact and hadn’t realized how he had taken it until he replied.
You can’t expect me to stop typing NOW. Lemme see!

I swear to God, I’ll block your number.

[View attachment.]

My heart grew as I clicked on the photo. I didn’t want it to be what I thought it might be. Yet when the image loaded to
reveal a fake sad self-portrait, I was both glad and mildly disappointed. It was mere curiosity, but I wondered what he hid
behind that towel.
I found myself biting my lip against a creeping smile.
There was a sweetness to him in that photo. His eyes were innocent, even if his inherent naughtiness dominated his look.
Something warm spread through my chest and descended through my stomach. I felt it in my abdomen and then in my groin. I
felt the heat of curiosity and the tingling of my libido. A mere tickle, but far more than what any random hookup had made me
feel.
What was his game? I had to know, but the moment had elated me so much that I found myself snapping a selfie. It went as
low as my abs but not more than that. I wasn’t ashamed of myself. I simply didn’t want to give him the wrong idea. It would be
a bummer if he made a move and I had to push him back.
Dude… I called it. I always knew you were hot as fuck. Saving this one for the fridge.

I rolled my eyes, shook my head, left my phone, and looked at the mirror. The corners of my mouth were annoyingly wide
and dragging up.
Can it be date o’clock already?

I should have resisted glancing at my phone, but the buzz of a new message was becoming addictive. And his words sent a
bubble of air out of my lungs. It hitched in my throat and I scolded myself for almost giggling like a kid.
When it was five minutes to ‘date o’clock,’ I did a final check. My black pants were rolled up a little, letting a couple of
inches of my ankles show. I wore a cream shirt with tight cuffs and a good fit that hugged my broad shoulders and pecs, the
sleeves slightly tight around my biceps. I chose to be casual and comfortable, keeping the top button undone and wearing no
accessories around my neck. I threw a jacket over my outfit and nodded to myself. I looked decent. I’d used a bit of hair
product to sculpt my hair the way I liked, but that was the extent of it. It shouldn’t send any wrong messages, I thought.
Sawyer marched into the room just as I finished brushing my teeth and wiping my mouth.
“Is tonight the big night?” he asked.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I replied truthfully. Why would it be big?
Sawyer looked at me for a short time. Emotions I couldn’t name played over his face. He bit his lip and smiled. “You’re
nervous.”
“I’m late is what I am,” I corrected him.
“This is what you’re like whenever you’re nervous,” Sawyer said. “But let me tell you, you’ve got nothing to be worried
about, buddy. You look great. And he’s already into you. You can relax.”
I didn’t know he was right until he said the last few words. Something tight and hard loosened in my stomach. It was like a
steel grip had relaxed in me and I inhaled a deep breath of air. Damn. I’d been nervous. And I still was, but not as much. Just
enough to drum my fingers against the sides of my legs as Sawyer winked and pointed at the door. “Go get him.”
I forced a dismissive snort but discovered that I truly wanted to ‘get him.’ And I really wanted him to be the kind of guy
who wouldn’t walk away after I cut things short tonight. Well, short of undressing, at least. If we got that far at all, I reminded
myself as I left the room and walked downstairs.
I hadn’t been on a proper date in ages. Ever? I’d gone out with a few girls and an odd guy or two in my time without
hooking up. The thing was…they’d never called back. And when it was the people I’d slept with, it was me who never got in
touch again.
Holy shit, I thought as I stepped out of the house and glanced around. A sleek, black limo glided slowly and came to a halt
while I struggled not to let my mouth hang open. Was he insane? The answer was a resounding yes. He was absolutely mad.
The door of the limo flew open and the goofy smile he wore was so blindingly brilliant that I felt my pulse rise.
“Hop in, handsome,” he called, stepping out of the car. He held the goddamn door open for me.
“This is crazy,” I told him in a leveled voice as I approached. The door behind me opened, and I heard a distinct wolf
whistle, which made the hairs on my neck stand. I shot my teammates a look over my shoulder as I approached the car. Beckett
Partridge was grinning at the door, Caden standing behind him with a surprised expression on his face, and Sawyer wore the
smuggest face he could pull off. “Great. Now they all know I’m being wooed by the enemy.”
“You kids have fun,” Sawyer called after me.
“I’ll bring him back in one piece,” Grayson said, bowing theatrically to my friends before he slipped into the limo with me.
The black leather seats were soft when I sat down and the heat inside made me regret wearing the coat. The sectional was
spacious enough to host six or eight people easily, so the fact that it was just the two of us allowed for some privacy but hinted
at intimacy, too. Of all that space, Grayson chose to sit right next to me. “Make yourself comfortable,” he said. “It’ll be a little
while before we get there.”
“Get where?” I asked.
Grayson winked. “It’s a surprise.” He wore his cologne with notes of vetiver and leather and black pepper. It made me
think of a metropolis and a confidently worn leather jacket. It brought to mind an adventurous city explorer with an easy smile
and windswept hair. It was Grayson. He checked all those boxes. Blond, brown-eyed, handsome, flirtatious to a fault. Luckily,
he wore more than just a bowtie, but that was his standout accessory. Combined with a midnight blue shirt and light beige
pants, he looked like someone who had a personal stylist.
“Did I say crazy? I meant batshit crazy,” I said, the corners of my lips quivering.
Grayson laughed out loud. “You haven’t seen anything yet.” He pulled out a bottle of Prosecco from the bucket of ice on the
side of the sectional as the car left campus and joined the traffic in the heart of the city. The ride was so smooth that Grayson
easily popped the bottle open and poured each of us a splash of the sparkling beverage. “Have you ever been on the sort of
date where you felt like a Disney princess?” he asked.
I couldn’t help it. A laugh broke out of me before I could tame it.
“Because you’re about to be,” he said with a grin. “Salud.” He brought his glass to mine and waited for my reluctant
surrender. I didn’t hesitate too much. Still, my experience advised caution and I checked to make sure my walls were in place.
But Grayson had a way of luring smiles out of me and I couldn’t fight it. I tasted the Prosecco and exhaled through my nose.
“I got your chocolate,” I said. “Thank you.” It was the polite thing to say, right? It was hard to think. Grayson was very close,
and very happy, and he smelled too good. “You look…great.”
“You know, I can’t believe you said yes,” he admitted. “I was starting to think you’d never crack.”
I looked at his eyes and almost lost myself in them. “No one ever called you a quitter, huh?”
“Not once in my life,” he said, raising his glass. “Good things happen to those who try.”
I bit my lip before I could think about it. “That’s a nice thing to say.”
“I mean it,” he said. “I don’t want to spook you. It’s just…you gave me such a chase. How long has it been? Three weeks?”
I nodded. Two weeks until I’d agreed to this and another week of ensuring I didn’t change my mind. “Aren’t your friends
going to give you crap for going out with your rival? You’re the captain.”
“They should trust my judgment,” Grayson said calmly. “I’ve had my eye on you for a while.”
A frown wrinkled the space between my eyebrows. “Really?”
“It’s true. You’re a scary guy, though.” He laughed a little nervously before looking at his glass and speaking into it. “You
don’t look like the easy-going, approachable, fun-loving person I think you actually are.”
“I…don’t know if that’s a compliment,” I told him.
He chuckled. “Truth is, you’re a little intimidating at first,” he said and looked at me.
“What made you come after me, then?” I asked. I wasn’t offended. Maybe a little. I couldn’t be sure. Even so, I disguised
my voice so he wouldn’t notice.
He gave an easy shrug. “I like you. You’re a fierce hockey player, you’re beautiful, you do a mean hard check, and that is
not a complaint.”
“Good. You’ll be getting more of those,” I told him.
Grayson threw his head back and laughed. “We shall see. I’m not a little kitten, either.”
I knew he wasn’t. He could slam me into the boards so hard I would see the stars. It had happened on numerous occasions.
“Eh, I can take it. If you manage to get close enough to me.”
“Nothing gives me more pleasure than facing you on the ice, Avery. Oh, that’s a lie. This does.” He clinked our glasses
again and we drank. “But it’s fun. You’re a good enemy to have. And I suspect you’re a pretty cool guy to take out.”
Frankly, I struggled to get any words out over the welling bubble of…something — was it joy? — that insisted on inflating
in my chest. “I don’t know what gave you that idea,” I said, although my voice was a little strained.
Grayson laughed. “Funny.”
I wasn’t sure if it was. My sense of humor didn’t often receive standing ovations. But I couldn’t come up with a single
reason for Grayson to lie to me.
“Date selfie for our scrapbook?” Grayson asked. His phone was out before I answered. And when I rolled my eyes and
said it was fine, he snapped a dozen photos.
We sat in a comfortable silence for a short while after. The car was sliding smoothly down the road. “Why won’t you tell
me where you’re taking me?”
 “I thought a lot about this,” Grayson said. “You didn’t bite any of the baits I threw at you. Spa day, movies, moonlit dinner
on the roof of my dormitory, Scrabble at your place. You’re a hard guy to entice, Avery. Remember when I suggested we take a
horse-drawn carriage? Nothing. Not even a ‘maybe’ from you.” He shot me a pleased smile. “And if you think I’m stalling,
now, it’s because I am.” He looked out the window. We were on an open road and had been for a while. The car was slowing
down and Grayson smiled. “A few minutes.”
I sat tight as the car left the wide road for a much narrower one. I sat quietly and watched the glimpses of Lake St. Clair.
We had left the city behind us and traveled north to Anchor Bay. I hadn’t been paying attention to anything other than Grayson.
He could have taken me anywhere. Would I have noticed?
I was letting myself get too absorbed in him. Where the hell was my guard? I knew what would happen if I gave in and just
slept with him for the sake of it. I knew I would resent him tomorrow and not care if I ever saw him again. It had happened
before. I had ruined potential friendships, even relationships, by rushing into something I wasn’t sure I wanted. Something that I
had done because of expectations placed on me.
The car slowed down. This part of Anchor Bay wasn’t cluttered with houses, but the shore was dotted with houseboats. I
had seen them advertised as getaways for all sorts of purposes. I knew Sawyer had celebrated his quarter-versary with Noah
on one of these, although I wasn’t sure if it was here or on Lake Eerie. He’d visited both. One was a weekend and the other
was just a picnic.
Grayson had gone out of his way. We got out of the car. Grayson walked around it and spoke to the chauffeur for a short
while, then nodded heartily and stepped back. When he looked at me again, he couldn’t hide his anticipation. “What do you
think?” he asked. “No. Wait. Don’t tell me. I’ll ask you when we’re inside.”
My heart clenched and I lifted another barrier by instinct. Give him a chance, I whispered to myself, then followed my date
as he swaggered toward the houseboat. The long ramp creaked under our feet as we left the shore behind us and got onto the
deck terrace of the boat. The structure was fairly sizable, all wooden like mountain cabins, and with tinted windows. Out on
the terrace, there were potted evergreens, making the scene lush. Water splashed the shore and the sides of the deck, tilting the
entire house gently left and right.
A single yellow light above the entrance door lit our way. Grayson unlocked the door and then pulled it open for me to
enter.
As I stepped inside, warmth washed over me. He’d had the place heated before picking me up, I made no mistake. It was as
cozy and snug as a countryside cottage, except it swayed lightly on the restless lake. It was all lit with corner lamps. The short
hallway led toward the spacious dining area with a table already set for a dream date — white cloth, burning red candles, a
bottle of red wine, dinner placed in the middle of the table and covered with a silver lid, and two comfortable chairs on
opposite ends — and the sound system played a familiar tune. Lay All Your Love On Me by ABBA. He remembered a passing
joke and made it real.
Who the hell was this guy who cared so much about someone he barely knew? And why?
“Let me get your coat,” Grayson suggested, and he took it before I knew it. There was a good chance I wouldn’t have fought
hard if he had tried taking all of my clothes.
“Grayson, this is…” I looked around. The small kitchen had a bar separating it from the dining area. The floor-to-ceiling
windows gave us a nice view of the open lake, lit by moonlight and stars, beyond the front terrace. “A lot.”
“Can’t have too much of a good thing,” he said smoothly and pulled out a chair.
As I circled the table to take my seat, I looked around. A lounge area was set on the far side of the house. There was a
small table, lamps, a cozy sectional, and a window view of the lake and the specks of light in the distance. But above us was
the loft, where I assumed there had to be a bed.
I pushed those thoughts out of my head and sat down. I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. “So, you went all out on this.”
He shrugged as he poured us wine. We sat across from each other and I could have stayed like that for the entire night. I
could have watched his red lips in that playful curl. I could have gazed at his big chestnut eyes. I could have broken my only
rule and encouraged him to flirt with me.
But Grayson smiled and made a small gesture with his eyebrows. “Tell me about Avery.”
“You’ll have to be more specific than that,” I said.
“Noted. Not a generalist,” he said and laughed. I had to admit, it quirked my lips, too. “Why the Titans? What made you
join them?”
I cocked my head. Good question. “Funny enough, I received a scholarship from your university a week before I got the
Northwood one. I’m not sure what made me tip over. I’m not dissing. I always thought the Arctic Titans were the top team.
Coach Murray left a great impression, too, so when I got their letter, I instantly knew.”
Grayson grabbed his heart. “You wound me.” He laughed. “No, but I hear you. You’re on a great team. The Breakers were
a pretty obscure team until a few years ago. Some leadership changes helped put us on the map, but it’s a long road.”
“I didn’t feel that way,” I explained. “I was excited when they accepted me, too.”
“Excited? I would love to see that,” he teased. His lips seemed redder with the wine. The house tilted with a stronger tide
but settled after a few moments. “We’re making progress,” he said a little more seriously. “I’m not gonna let this opportunity
pass. We’re making serious progress as a team.”
I licked my lips. “Look, I’m always going to want to see you defeated when we face each other, but I’ll admit it, you’ve
been doing better than last year. Or the year before.”
“I keep forgetting you’re junior year,” Grayson said.
“And you’re a sophomore,” I pointed out. “Does it matter?”
Grayson’s eyes widened. “Of course it matters. How are we going to make it work? When we’re happily married and you
graduate, I’ll still have a year before I’m out.”
I blinked at him, but laughter bubbled in me despite my best efforts to remain cool. “Let’s not get married,” I proposed as a
solution.
“Pfft. If it were that easy,” Grayson said, shaking his head gravely. “I’ve made you go out with me. There’s no stopping this
train, now.”
“You have a reputation, Grayson,” I said.
“I dread to think,” he joked.
I shrugged one shoulder. “Are you as much of a playboy as they say?”
“Direct. I like that about you,” he said. I was torn between swooning and pointing out that he was dodging my question.
“I like to clear things up before any confusion,” I said.
Grayson gave a firm nod. “Let’s eat.” He uncovered the dish between us. It was a huge tray of spinach- and chickpea-
stuffed portobello mushrooms with roasted garlic quinoa pilaf, lemon tahini drizzle, and sides of balsamic glazed brussels
sprouts and herb-infused roasted sweet potatoes.
“Has this been here since this morning?” I asked.
The sparkle in Grayson’s eyes was pure naughtiness. “I wouldn’t know. Racoons could have dragged it in.” His smile
lingered while I chuckled. “The staff left a few minutes before we arrived,” he assured me. “I was punctual, for once.” We
shared a little smile, or a hint of it, and he started serving us. Matter-of-factly, Grayson returned to our earlier conversation.
“It’s exaggerated, I think, whatever you’ve heard. But, I mean, I’ve been around the block.” He served me a portion and then
filled his plate. “More wine?”
I hadn’t realized I’d finished it. He refilled my glass. “Thanks.”
“I guess you could call it being a playboy, but who isn’t?” He looked at me mischievously.
My heart clenched. “There are people who aren’t.”
“Prove it,” he demanded jokingly. “Show me those people.”
I bought myself some time by taking a bite of the stuffed mushrooms. They were delicious. “Are you a vegetarian?” I asked,
noting the lack of meat on the table.
“No,” Grayson said. “But I forgot to ask if you were. Better safe than sorry.”
“Are you that careful with all your dates?” I couldn’t help but grin. Properly grin. It hurt my muscles. Who was that attuned
to other people’s needs? What sort of a person thought of everything?
“You assume I go on many dates,” Grayson said and laughed. “I don’t. Last year, I was like an excited golden retriever, just
let off his leash. I was picking up guys left and right. But that gets old. And that doesn’t require the effort of going on an actual
date.”
“That’s true,” I agreed. If I could just relax and take this for what it was, I would say this was the kind of date I had been
missing. But I couldn’t. I waited for the secret motives to surface. I waited for him to make a move and get shot down. Or
worse, I waited for him to convince me and to wake up tomorrow regretting the whole thing, feeling empty inside and detached
from him and the world.
“You’ve got a reputation, too, I think,” Grayson said.
I sipped my wine. “Lies. Slander.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Not all of it. Or?”
I shook my head. “Ah, I don’t know what you heard. I’ve been with people. Obviously.”
“That should prove my point,” Grayson said, popping another mushroom into his mouth. For dramatic suspense, he didn’t
speak for a long while, chewing innocently and looking at me. I went from tense to laughing in the time it took him to speak
again. “Not everything you hear is true. We’ve both done our fair share of screwing around. And here we are anyway.”
I thought about it while we ate. It was a nice, light dinner and paired with an excellent wine. “Here,” I mused. “You know
what this place is, right?” I looked around. It was designed as an aphrodisiac. Every little detail was fully devoted to romance
and intimacy. There were no sounds coming through from the outside. The windows were tinted so nobody could see through
them from the neighboring houseboats.
“I mean, that’s not the only purpose,” Grayson said. He almost scolded me with his tone. Like I was the one hinting at
something else happening. “Besides, I promised your friends to bring you home in one piece.”
I almost spat. I laughed so hard that my stomach hurt. “Are you suggesting that us sleeping together would rip me apart?
I’ve got a newsflash for you.”
“Do tell,” he said, and his eyes sparkled.
I pressed my lips tightly and kept my silence.
Grayson was the first to clear his plate. He waited a minute while I finished eating, then picked up his glass and the bottle.
“Let’s get cozy.”
I followed him to the spacious sectional on the far end of the houseboat. I could see the bathroom with an elegant walk-in
shower tucked in at the bottom of the stairs. It was discreetly placed there. My attention went to the stairs and up to the loft. It
was a date boat. It was a sex boat. Those were the facts.
Why does that scare you? The voice asking me that was my own. I didn’t know. Maybe because I still needed to figure
myself out. Maybe because it had always been a bad omen. Maybe because I had never gone beyond the first date with anyone.
“Avery, are you alright?” Grayson asked. We were sitting about an arm’s length apart. He leaned closer to me and examined
my face with that warm, fall-brown gaze.
“Huh? Oh. Yeah.” I couldn’t have fooled a toddler with that.
Grayson pulled his lower lip between his teeth and set his glass on the small coffee table before the sofa. “It’s just that you
got really tense all of a sudden.”
I clenched my teeth. “I’m fine.”
“Alright. But if you’re not, it would be okay,” he said.
Silence. It felt like it would never end. When I inhaled, it was a wheeze. I set my glass on the table next to his and carefully
turned to face him. “Look, this was nice. I mean it. The whole thing. The limo, the houseboat, the dinner. And you’re sweet for
making sure it was vegetarian just because you forgot to ask on time.” I held my hands together because a brief shiver passed
down my arms. My fingertips tingled. “But this can’t happen.”
Grayson frowned slightly and cocked his head. “Why not?”
I held a breath of air as I sorted through my thoughts. My hands were on my knees suddenly and I leaped up. I walked
across the room to the massive glass windows. The soft orange lights inside were strong enough to turn the blackness of the
night into a mirror. I saw my reflection in the window and the emotionless expression I carried for everyone to see. “I’m…
messed up, somehow. I’m weird. I can’t…” I paused.
“Whoa, hold on,” Grayson said. His feet thudded along the wooden floor as he neared me. “What are you talking about?
Weird, how?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered. Bitter disappointment filled me. In my fear of fucking it up, I fucked it up. Great.
“Because I disagree,” Grayson said. “You’re wrong. You’re not weird at all. And you’re not messed up, Avery. If I did
something to upset you, I apologize. I wish I knew what it was, though.”
I shook my head. “It’s not you. Seriously, you did nothing wrong. I’m a mess, actually. I, uh…” How much worse could I
make it? The whole thing was already a total blunder. I’d wasted a shot with someone who seemed like a pretty good guy. I
turned to face him. “Grayson, I’m not going to sleep with you. I don’t know what my problem is, but I know I’m not into it. And
forcing it is only gonna make things worse. I’ve been there. I’ve done it. I hated it.”
Grayson’s tiny frown played on his eyebrows. “Is that what this is about?”
“I wasted your time,” I said flatly. “I’m sorry.”
His shoulders relaxed and I realized how tense he had been. He laughed softly, then louder. “Seriously? Jesus, Avery. I
thought there was a problem. I thought I said something stupid. I can’t always trust my mouth, you know. It’s just that?”
“I mean, isn’t that why we’re here? And don’t just be polite for the sake of it.” I was looking at the relief that washed over
his face.
“That’s absolutely my bad,” he admitted. “I should have realized what message it sends. And hey, I figured, if things go
well, who knows? Maybe? But if you think that’s the reason I wanted to go out with you, you’re wrong. Getting you to come
around was more work than any hook-up deserves.” He laughed harder. “And there’s nothing wrong with you if you don’t want
to sleep with a guy on your first date. Come. Sit.” He put a hand on my shoulder, and I adored the warmth, strength, and courage
it lent me.
I followed him back to the sofa and we sat a little closer. “You don’t mind?” I asked. My voice was tight and reserved like
I expected it to be a prank.
“Mind? I actually like it. It’s better that way. All I wanted was to get to know you. And to show you that I’m not just your
worst nightmare and a superior hockey player. I’m also kind of a nice guy who is interested in you.” He licked his lips quickly.
“There are so many other things we could be doing, Avery. It doesn’t have to be that.”
“I don’t know. Social cues fly over my head. I look around, and it feels like it’s sex first, exchanging names second, and
maybe appearing in public if we’re serious about it.” I lifted my glass and drank a little.
“That’s a good way of putting it,” Grayson said, chuckling. “I’ll be honest with you. I didn’t plan for it. I didn’t prepare for
it. It was on the periphery of possibilities.”
Each word he said was a new level of relief to me. “You’re not just saying that because I freaked out?”
 He shook his head while looking into my eyes. And I believed him. “Not even a little. I like you. I’d like to hang out more
often. And I think that’s as far as I want to plan. Do what feels right, huh?”
I nodded. Exhaling was like waking up from a nightmare. I found myself in a nice, safe place. “You’re a good guy, Grayson.
I appreciate it.”
“I’m glad you think that.” He had some of his wine and relaxed. He leaned back and eyed me. “You said you didn’t know
what it was. You sounded like…I dunno, like you’re worried.”
I thought about it briefly. “Sort of. A little. It’s like, whenever I went out with someone, and we went to their place, and we
did the thing, it never felt right. It’s like I missed something important. Even if everything went well, I still felt like we lacked
something huge, and I would just leave after showering and never look back.”
Grayson nodded with understanding plain in his eyes. “Been there.”
“I’m not asexual. I think. I’ve got the drive.” I stopped talking. He didn’t need to hear about it. Even today, when we
exchanged a few photos, I felt it. I’d felt that spark.
“Tell me if I’m crossing the line. I don’t want to intrude. But did you ever think it might be about the emotional
connection?” He looked at me hopefully and with pure interest. “Even I know sex is better when you like the person you’re
with. And I don’t mean physically. I mean, when you like their soul.”
Something in me wanted to trust him completely. And when he shifted and leaned toward me, I knew it was his innocent
curiosity and nothing else. “Maybe,” I said. I thought about it, but it was hard to put my finger on it.
“You might be demisexual. Just throwing that out there. I’m not saying I know best. Maybe you need to meet someone and
get to know them. Maybe you need to trust them and like them.” He laughed a little nervously. “It’s not like I’m hoping to be the
lucky one.”
My heart picked up the pace at his words. He’d said them in such a cute tone that even I couldn’t miss their real meaning.
“You weren’t kidding,” I said and looked at his handsome face. “You like me.”
Fire blazed in his eyes. “I knew I’d get that through your head eventually.”
I chuckled softly. It was a sound I wasn’t used to making, yet I’d done it more times than I could count tonight.
At that moment, I knew with absolute certainty that I could trust him. I knew he wouldn’t take it the wrong way. I knew he
wouldn’t misinterpret it. I knew he would take it the way I was giving it. And he would understand what it meant.
As soon as his teeth released his lower lip, I surrendered to the current that carried me there. I leaned in and tossed the
dice. Whatever came next, it would be alright. He wouldn’t be just another bored player in search of a quick release. Grayson
Reed was so much more than that.
And knowing this made it so much sweeter when my lips touched his. The warmth of his flesh and the sweetness of wine on
his lips left a print on my mind, on my soul. I embraced him, one hand on the back of his head and the other on the side of his
ribcage. He kissed me back gently, almost carefully, but I felt the smile stretching his lips a few moments later.
I didn’t want it to stop. Everything in me hummed happily. Everything told me this was right. It was nothing like the rough
making out with a stranger I didn’t care about. It was softer, more careful, more meaningful. His kisses were like cuddles and
shows of actual affection.
It elated me with its blinding shine. It was like being lost in the dark and seeing the golden rays of the dawn sunlight.
His scent tickled my nostrils and brought the images of an immense city skyline to my mind. His grip on my bicep was
strong, but the way he cupped my cheek with his other hand was soft and caring. He kissed me for a moment longer, then pulled
back. “Now, that was very nice.”
I couldn’t believe how giddy it made me to hear those words. “It was.”
He took my hand in his and looked at my palm. With the tip of his index finger, he traced the longest line. “I grew up in a
conservative home,” he said carefully and eyed me as if he expected me not to be interested. When he saw my gaze locked onto
his face, he nodded. “Well, I grew up and watched all the boys and girls in school exchanging notes, holding hands, and
kissing. The whole nine yards. I never had it. My parents…ah, it doesn’t matter. I grew up. I started fooling around with guys.
But I never had that. You know? The excitement of sharing a kiss just for the sake of kissing.”
My ears perked. I wanted to say something comforting, but that was a social field I was the least experienced in. Instead, I
turned our hands around and held his instead of letting it be held by him.
He repaid me with a pearly smile. “This was very special to me, Avery.”
I liked how he matched my forwardness. It was the only way I knew how to speak. And it was the surest way for me to
understand. “It was special to me, too.”
He wore that smile for a few heartbeats longer, then leaned in and pressed his lips against mine. I welcomed him
completely. I didn’t worry he would go too far or ask for too much. It was like we had made a promise to each other. And
every moment of our lips pressing together made the fire in me burn brighter.
I found myself hoping for a second date. And a third. I wanted us to cross these bridges one by one, hand in hand. I wanted
him to be the person with whom I tried something I had never tried before. Something more than just a cheap one-off.
Something big and scary and complicated.
 Our paths had been tangled for an entire year. We had faced each other with anger, even fury, countless times. But this was
something else completely.
I kissed him not because he was the captain of the enemy team who’d badgered me for a date. I kissed him because he had
earned it. He wanted it, and he was willing to go to such lengths for it. And I felt it in my core, this burning desire to be close
to him.
So I kissed him more. I kissed him softer and slower and for a long time. I kissed him like we were two teenagers who had
never had this crazy chance before. I kissed him the way we both needed to be kissed tonight.
 SEVEN

Grayson

I WALKED ACROSS THE SPRAWLING FRONT LAWN IN FRONT OF THE DORMITORIES MUCH LATER THAN I HAD PLANNED . THE NIGHT
had been magical. We had been making out until our faces had gotten sore and then I invited him up to the loft.
Avery’s moment of hesitation had been priceless. I could imagine how afraid he must have been that I had turned on
everything I had said earlier. “A. Trust me.” And he had. He’d given me his hand and followed me upstairs. The bed was laid
out in the middle of the loft, but the true purpose was the huge window that gave us the view of the night sky and the canopy of
stars. That was why I had brought him up.
“There he is,” Spencer said. He was having breakfast in the kitchen on our floor at the beginning of the hallway. “You look
like shit.”
I snorted. It was true. I hadn’t slept much last night. Now, I wore my shirt untucked and my bowtie was hanging from my
fist. I had dropped Avery off at Northwood before directing the chauffeur to bring me back here. Truthfully, I hadn’t wanted to
leave the houseboat. It was too good to leave behind.
“So?” Cole asked as I entered the kitchen and dropped into an empty chair. There were only the three of us in here. “How
did it go?”
I stretched my lips before I could stop myself. The smile spilled out of me and I shook my head to diminish it at least a
little. “It went great.”
Spencer drummed his fingers against the table. “Got proof?”
“I, uh…” Traitor, I snapped at myself. I’d asked him to trust me. And for what? To win a silly bet.
“What happened?” Cole asked. “I thought he agreed.”
“No, he did,” I said.
“Well?” Spencer was growing slightly impatient. “You changed the terms, Cap. We need to see the proof. Unless it’s
explicit. Then I’d rather pass.”
That set my ass on fire. “It’s not explicit.”
“Didn’t you sleep with him? You look like you did,” Cole said, snickering.
“Technically,” I sighed. “We didn’t have sex. We just…fell asleep. You know what? I don’t need to tell you that. Forget it.”
I slipped my phone out and swallowed my annoyance. They were right. We’d had a deal for them to be at the restaurant until I
bailed on that whole plan and booked a private houseboat instead. “Here.” I pushed my phone across the dining table to my
friends. It was a selfie from the limo.
“He looks like he’s about to harvest your kidneys,” Cole said.
“Shut up,” I snapped. “That’s just mean. He’s a great guy.”
Cole’s eyebrows rose high, his ears turning red. “I’m just fucking around. Jeez.”
“Well, don’t,” I said shortly.
Spencer pushed my phone back. “Why are you cranky? Need a snack?”
I gritted my teeth for a moment. “I’m not cranky. It’s just nasty to mock the guy for looking serious. So what? He doesn’t
laugh like an idiot, so let’s all point fingers at him.”
“Nobody’s pointing anything,” Spencer said lazily. “Anyway, you won the bet. It’s over now.”
It was anything but over. This morning, when I startled myself awake, I discovered Avery lying on me. My right arm was
numb, but I didn’t want to roll him off of it. He’d been lying on his side, facing me, and I couldn’t stop looking at his handsome
face. Those sharp cheekbones and his uniquely sandy hair. I couldn’t bring myself to end the date.
“Oh shit,” Spencer said, looking at me. He had just bitten off a piece of his sandwich. He chewed it, shook his head, and
swallowed. “It’s too late. You already got obsessed.”
“I’m not obsessed. Jesus, Spencer.” Hearing that was almost as bad as remembering that I had taken Avery out under false
pretenses. But I’d only had good intentions. That had to count for something. Right?
Cole was oddly quiet. Maybe I had been too harsh, but he had to learn to mind his tongue. Spencer took another bite of his
sandwich, then wiped his fingers on a paper napkin. “It was just a dare, Cap. Are you catching the feels?”
“Tsss. I’m not catching anything. And if I want to have a second date, I don’t think that’s anybody’s business.” I glanced at
my phone. The morning was flying by. I should probably hit the gym before tonight’s drills. I was buzzing with excess energy. It
needed to go somewhere.
“You’re serious, huh?” Spencer asked, not unkindly. “It’s not what we planned for you, Cap, but if you like him that much,
then I’m happy for you.”
I chewed on my lip, slightly sulkily, although I couldn’t say why. Maybe because this whole setup undermined what I ended
up wanting. “I like him.”
Spencer glanced at Cole. “We should start a matchmaking business.”
Cole relaxed a bit and laughed. He met my gaze and shrugged. “Sorry, Gray. I didn’t mean to be rude.”
I nodded. Time was flying by too quickly for one morning but too slowly for a week of waiting. I doubted I could drag
Avery out of hiding before next weekend. So, the first thing I did was make a quick trip to Cupid’s. I wrote him a new postcard
and canceled the old ones. This one thanked him for a magical night and challenged him to a rematch. I chuckled to myself as I
wrote it, then handed it to the middle-aged woman with a kind, motherly look in her eyes.
Conditioning, studying, practice. Day after day, I busied myself to pass the time. It would have been a bleak routine if it
weren’t for Avery’s text messages.
Got your postcard. Can this harassment stop?

I accept your challenge, by the way.

I’d almost fallen off the treadmill when the messages showed on my smartwatch. I finished my running session, threw a
towel around my neck, and grabbed my phone to reply.
You will be picked up, good sir.

I refuse to be pulled by a horse.

I’ll pull you myself if I have to.

I wore a goofy smile on my face whenever I looked at my screen. We sorted out the details of our next date over the course
of a couple of days. It would be a simple one. We’d catch a movie and have drinks after. I was sure Avery would approve
whatever creative decisions I made along the way. But we couldn’t catch each other before Saturday night because he played a
game on Thursday and I played on Friday. And that just wasn’t good enough for me.
On Wednesday evening, I stood in the shadows, outside the pool of light the lamps cast on the pavement in front of
Northwood’s rink. I hugged myself for warmth and waited for his drills to end. I knew his schedule vaguely, so I paced to keep
myself busy because I wasn’t sure how long the wait would last.
The chatter and laughter of my natural enemies, the Arctic Titans, inspired me to stay back. They weren’t a violent gang of
guys, but I was a lonely rival who didn’t want to push his luck. A few nasty words wouldn’t surprise me, though.
I spotted a few familiar faces. Beckett swaggered with Caden on his heels. They seemed to be in a hurry. The two
defensemen I’d often played against, Sebastian and Tyler, walked slower, deep in conversation. Near them was the bulky
winger, Jordan, and a couple of newbies I’d seen this season followed him. A handful of guys I didn’t know by name, but I
recognized a shaggy golden mane of one and the full buzzcut of another. The last to come out were their goalie and my object of
fascination. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to join them like a creep and a stalker, so I grabbed my phone instead.
You’re being followed. Don’t worry. I’ve got you covered. (That jacket’s an excellent choice, by the way.)

It made my heart grow when he immediately pulled his phone out and slowed down.
“You alright?” Sawyer asked. It was barely louder than a murmur at this distance and I pulled deeper into the shadows.
“Uh, fine. Go ahead, I’ll catch up. I forgot my earbuds.” Avery looked around and one corner of his lips pulled up enough
that I noticed from afar.
“Ah, of course. Your earbuds. Tell them we’ll kick their butt when we play against them in two weeks,” Sawyer said.
I swallowed a chuckle at Avery’s steel-like expression. He squared his shoulders, then reluctantly nodded. “Will do.”
Sawyer laughed and walked away. Avery, on the other hand, scanned the area methodically. When he found nothing, he
turned his back to me and began to type.
I was light on my feet as I approached him from behind. His black jacket fit him well, showcasing his broad shoulders and
the V shape of his torso. I was almost tempted to wrap my arms around him and carry him away. Instead, I tiptoed until I was
so close he had to be aware of me. But before he could react, I covered his eyes from behind.
 That moment of contact and the short, sharp inhale made me want to stay like this forever. Even when scared, he was cool
and composed. I wondered if Avery Collins had ever made a single rash decision in his life. Those words were the first from
my lips when I found my tongue.
I slowly pulled my hands away and he turned around to look at me. “Rash? I’m sure I have.”
“Like what?” I asked.
His gray eyes narrowed in thought. “One time, Sawyer and I were at this cocktail bar. I didn’t read the menu. I ordered the
first thing I put my finger on.”
I laughed into the night sky and placed my hands on his chest for support. “Thrilling. What else?”
A note of amusement crossed his face. “The other night,” he said. “When I decided I wanted to kiss you.”
That took my speech away. On the ice, Avery was a ruthless machine. At parties, he was an uninterested, robot-like
presence. Even I had called him a psycho not that long ago. But privately, when he took that wax mask off, he said the most
wonderful things. He was funny in a way Cole and Spencer could never understand. I wondered how many of Avery’s friends
knew it, too. “Why don’t you decide that again now?”
He did. Instantly, his lips were on mine, and his heated kiss was made so much more special because he didn’t bat an
eyelash. He gave it all to me. The way he held me when he kissed me lent me the sense of stability I never knew I needed.
The years of growing up in the closet, envying the boys and girls who almost flaunted their freedom and ability to steal
kisses, didn’t scream at me now. What else were we doing if not precisely that? We gave one another the things we hadn’t had.
Avery needed the space to allow his trust to grow. I needed someone who would fulfill the fantasies of the boy I had once been.
All the adult things we’d done countless times with other people could wait.
I kissed him hard as the attraction between us blossomed. And when the blazing kiss made me sway on my feet, Avery’s
stability kept me standing. We parted with boyish smiles painting our faces. “That’s one way to say ‘hello.’”
Avery nodded in agreement. “What are you doing here?” he asked after a moment.
“Oh, you know, running errands,” I said as we stood side by side and I poked him in the ribs with my elbow. “Stalking you,
basically.”
“Stalk all you like,” he said, moving a few steps forward.
“I was wondering if I could steal you away for an hour or two,” I admitted. “Somewhere that isn’t brimming with Titans.”
The clarification was necessary. “I know how testosterone runs high after practice. I don’t want to tempt them.”
Avery pulled on a wolfish smile. “They were nice last Friday,” he pointed out.
“And that’s why I don’t want to push my luck.” I dared slide my arm around his waist. He didn’t need a lot of nudging. He
leaned into me as we matched our pace and moved along. His arm pressed against the side of my torso and he didn’t pull away.
“What do you have in mind?” he asked.
I shrugged. “There’s a taproom just off campus.”
Avery thought about it for just a heartbeat. “I can do one round. We’re playing against the Icehawks tomorrow night.”
“And I’m wearing a Titans jersey in support,” I joked.
Avery met my gaze. “You better.”
We shared a laugh and turned left at an intersection so we wouldn’t pass by the tavern they had at the heart of their campus.
We walked a little faster and found the taproom more empty than full when we got there. It was warm and dark inside. Neon
signs for craft beers gave some colorful light from the walls and the discreetly placed lamps filled the rest. I got us a round of
drinks and we found a secluded corner to sit in.
I watched him as he got comfortable and I pulled back the mental picture of the photo he had sent last Friday. The blissful,
beautiful photo of his shirtless torso. I recalled the tattoos that decorated his collarbones and his shoulder. I recalled the
firmness of his pecs both in the picture and under my hand with his shirt in the way.
I was glad we weren’t rushing, even as I wanted our limbs tangled in bed and our bodies exhausted with pleasure.
“Boys and girls, huh? How was it figuring that out?” I asked.
Avery gave an innocent shrug. “It was never really important. My folks…” He pressed his lips together, shot me a look of
compassion, and, at my smile, continued. “They’re cool. Really cool. My uncle on Dad’s side has a husband and three kids.
Dad’s always been very protective of him, especially after my uncle introduced my parents to each other.”
My eyes grew wide with wonder. It was a dream life.
Avery’s eyes caught the neon light of the sign for a local brew. They sparkled. I was completely absorbed as he went on.
“They were open-minded since I could remember. I always knew about the spectrum. When I was old enough to read, they got
me books with all sorts of diverse characters instead of showing me those heteronormative children’s movies.” He cracked the
tiniest of smiles at that. “It’s never been a huge part of my personality, you know? It never changed anything.”
A benign sort of envy flickered through me. I was happy for Avery, but at the same time, I felt a loss for myself. That could
never be me. And I told him so. “They know only because I was a stupid little dreamer,” I said. “I thought they’d gotten all the
clues and were just waiting happily for me to tell them.” I didn’t want to remember that night. It was a fever dream in my
memory. “I can still hear the silence that filled the room when I realized they weren’t going to wheel in a coming-out cake for
me.” I laughed, but it fooled no one. Cold anger washed over Avery’s face as I fidgeted and gave an over-the-top shrug. “We
don’t talk much. They’re glad I’m away. They fund my lifestyle and I’m not shy about milking it.” I felt no guilt at all about that.
Not about the limo, not about the houseboat. It felt appropriate that I should spend their money on a date. “They don’t call and I
don’t visit. Mom’s torn, I think, but Dad isn’t, so she keeps the tap running for me, but she still won’t do more than a phone call
on special occasions. And she never asks about my dating life. Or anything, really.” I didn’t realize it, but my voice had turned
darker and dryer as I spoke. I washed down the bitterness of those words with my wheat ale.
“I’m sorry,” Avery said.
“Ah. Don’t be. It’s better that way.” I shook my head dismissively. “I’m free.”
“You are,” Avery said seriously. “You are free.”
We shared silence for a time. “How do you like that?” I asked, pointing at his beer.
“It’s alright. I’m not crazy about craft beers,” he said and pushed it across the table. “Try it.”
It was a small, simple thing, but it made me happier than I could fathom. I took his beer and drank. Foam painted a
mustache above my upper lip as I savored the taste of the beer. It was bitter and rich with hop. It was excellent. “You don’t
know what’s good,” I teased, but my words stopped abruptly when his hand closed around my chin and he wiped the foam
away from my lip.
Avery picked up a napkin for his fingers as if this had meant nothing, but my heart hammered. It was the sweetest, most
casual gesture of intimacy I’d ever been awarded. And when his phone buzzed with Sawyer’s name lighting up the screen, I
recalled myself back to Earth.
Avery gave me a soft smile and picked up. I couldn’t hear Sawyer’s words, but I put the pieces together from Avery’s
answer. “No, yeah, I found them.” His gaze locked onto my face. “They say they plan to put up a fight before getting their ass
kicked.” And something like pure joy moved over his face. “Will do, buddy. Have fun.” He hung up. “Sawyer says hi. Sort of.”
“Which probably means he made a vague threat about my ass in two weeks,” I said.
Avery bit his lower lip. If it was any indication, I was guessing he enjoyed himself immensely. We chatted about this and
that and I told him again how much that night with him had meant to me. I told him, without hesitation, that it had been the best
date of my life. I had decided to compensate for the fact that a dare had brought us together with abundant honesty. It didn’t
make me look pathetic if I admitted that the weeks of chasing him had been the most fun I could remember.
Neither of us was touching our beers, I realized. Neither wanted the night to end just yet.
So we stayed. I lost myself in the stories of Avery’s childhood and the support he enjoyed at home. I told him what a
contrast it was to my upbringing, which had always been rigid and religion-oriented. And we concluded that we made a good
pair. That was the word we used. A pair. ‘Couple’ seemed too serious, although it teetered on the edge of my tongue. Too soon,
I told myself. And I was happy with being a pair with him, however silly that sounded.
Whatever this thing was, I knew for certain that I wanted more of it. And that was the thought I carried with me after the
lights went out and we had to leave. The parting kiss scorched me like no other had before. And the longing that opened in my
chest once Avery and I went in opposite directions told me there was more to this dating thing than I had expected.
 EIGHT

Avery

AS FATE WOULD HAVE IT , COACH MURRAY MADE ME SIT OUT THE GAME AGAINST THE BLIZZARD BREAKERS TWO WEEKS AFTER
Sawyer had promised we would kick their asses. It was only a friendly game, so I didn’t cry over it. We all had a bigger game
on our minds coming soon. We were meeting the Vikings for a big deal game and the tension was palpable. If I was sad to miss
my chance to clash with Grayson, I consoled myself by remembering we had games lined up for the rest of the year. I would get
my chance.
And outside the rink, we collided constantly. His relentless efforts mellowed me so much that I often found myself
expecting him. He was a wild torrent of sweetness. I would run into him in our university library, where he had no business
being. I would run into him at the Thinker, where only his rivals gathered. He would make sure to be at the parties I mentioned
I might visit with Sawyer. But best of all, he never stopped taking me places.
I wasn’t the type to swoon. And even so, I couldn’t deny the little glimmer of hope in me. I couldn’t ignore how my body
heated near him or how my palms sweat slightly. I couldn’t pretend my heart didn’t beat faster when he threw his arm over my
shoulders. So, maybe I actually was the type to swoon.
Our schedules clashed more often than not. And yet, Grayson searched for any wiggle room he could find. Those were
starting to be my life’s most anticipated and desired moments. I was aware of the tugging sensation in my chest. It wasn’t too
different from wearing a tie, which Grayson held in a tight grip. He never let go.
Week after week, he returned for more. And each time I felt he would get bored soon. I knew he would quit if I didn’t hurry
the hell up. And whenever he kissed me goodnight after a date, I braced myself to be ghosted in the morning. Only, the last thing
I saw on those date nights was a message from him.
Another incredible night with you. I could get used to this.

When Sawyer, who had been spending most of his nights with his boyfriend, Noah, told me he would be moving out of our
room mid-semester, it was both a surprise and a bummer, but it opened a door in my heart that I had kept shut for so long. It
reminded me that, at some point, I absolutely wanted Grayson to come over and stay the night. I didn’t know when, but the idea
that it would happen became a fixed point in my future. I wanted it more and more with each encounter.
He gave up on the postcards, thankfully, because I’d told him how half my team house and the courier were starting to get
invested in this thing. Not that either was stopping me. My teammates didn’t care nearly as much as I had expected. Beckett had
made a passing joke that I should use my direct access to the enemy captain to learn about their tactics. One evening at the
Thinker, he suggested that I should make sure Grayson couldn’t skate by any means necessary the next time we played against
them. It earned him a shoulder punch from Caden, followed by a brief and heated lecture.
I wouldn’t have given their bickering a second thought, except that some days later, when we prevailed against the Vikings,
Beckett swept Caden off his skates in front of the entire audience and cameras for a huge kiss. It made my heart clench. It was a
surprise to us all, considering how much bad blood there had been between the two, but my mind raced away from me and
converged around Grayson.
After the game, when Beckett and Caden celebrated doubly, and the NHL legend Nate Partridge joined us for a round, I was
only partially present.
It was time for me to do something for Grayson. The trouble was, I absolutely sucked at planning these things. And
however great my relationship was with my parents, I didn’t have an open tab to book us a quick flight to Japan or whatever.
When will I see you?

I sent the message and wished I could take it back. Before I could add something clever or charming to it — even if I had
such a thing ready to be deployed — he texted back.
 What do you have in mind? I’m game.

Not sure. My roommate moved out. Maybe we can hang out at my place next weekend. If you feel like it.

I always feel like it.

I held my breath. He was too sweet. One way or the other, he had crawled under my skin and imprinted himself into my
mind that I couldn’t imagine a future without some reminder that he belonged in it.
Maybe we could do more than just hang out.

You flirt! Lemme think about it.

And he thought about it. For two full minutes.

Next weekend. I have an idea you’ll like. I’ll pick you up around five.

I wanted to take the lead to show him I cared, but being charmed like this was too irresistible. I agreed to it and so began a
week of tingling expectation. Moments of fear that I was making a mistake made my determination all the sweeter. I wanted
Grayson. Every time I thought about him, I felt it with my entire being. His relentless pursuit and his exaggerated efforts made
me open up to him. But what I found when we became close was completely different. He cared. And I cared, too.
Days of waiting followed. Whenever I sat, my foot tapped the floor. Whenever I played, I failed to control the puck.
Whenever I took notes in lectures, I later discovered I had drifted away mid-sentence and wrote down gibberish.
Grayson’s text messages soothed the anticipation. He poured out all his thoughts without filtering them into our chat. He
was as honest about being excited as he was up-front about being nervous. It was so refreshing and sweet that it reminded me
just how much I wanted to keep this guy.
“It’s almost like I don’t know you,” Sawyer said on the eve of my big date. He was having drinks with Noah when I joined
them and I could hardly keep the smirk off my face. Tomorrow… “Who would have thought you’d be such a softie, huh?”
“I could ask you the same,” I pointed out.
Sawyer looked at Noah with unrestrained love. It was the sort of relationship I knew I wanted. It was possible, I came to
think, that there was nothing wrong with me after all. Maybe I just needed a thing like this before jumping into his bed. Grayson
provided this in heaps and truckloads. So much so that I couldn’t believe it was really happening.
“When are you coming to our housewarming party?” Noah asked.
“When’s the party?” I asked, thinking I knew how housewarming parties worked.
Sawyer snorted. “When you feel like coming around.”
Then it clicked. It wasn’t a party at all. “Next week,” I promised.
“Oh? Got plans this weekend?” he asked cheekily, and I shot him a cool, expressionless look.
My shoulders rolled in a shrug. “No big deal. Just…hanging out.” Even thinking about being alone with Grayson
somewhere where he wanted to take me filled my stomach with flutters and sent tingles down my legs. I curled my toes in my
shoes and tried my best not to let my ears turn red.
I slept with Grayson in my thoughts and I woke up with him still there. The day seemed to take ages to pass. Morning drills
were a blessing, freeing me up for the rest of the day and tomorrow. If it was possible, I would spend the night with Grayson.
Our first date had been a magical night like that. He’d made me stay the night and respected every last one of my wishes.
Two-hour warning. Still aboard?

Without a doubt.

I hurried. The afternoon was dragging on and I was rushing around to get ready. In part, I was thankful Sawyer wasn’t
around to witness the mess I actually was. I kept pacing, returning to the bathroom because I had forgotten something, and
changing my clothes countless times.
Pack your toothbrush.

That text settled a debate that had been going through my mind. Extra set of clothes? No? Maybe? I didn’t want to pack a
goddamn suitcase only to discover we were going to a bar. With Grayson subtly clearing it up, I packed a small backpack with
spare clothes and a toothbrush.
He texted again when he was near campus, so I snuck out of the house. I heard some grunts coming from Beckett’s room and
decided not to think about it. Sawyer had told me that this thing with him and Caden had been going on since our trip to
Milwaukee and I couldn’t believe nobody had noticed anything before.
I waited for a royal carriage or a mile-long limo to appear on campus, but when a regular, sporty BMW from five or six
years ago halted in front of our team house, relief and surprise mixed inside of me. The passenger window slid down and
behind the wheel was Grayson, smiling like he was the happiest man on the planet. “Hop in.”
And I did. “What’s this? You rented a car?”
“It’s mine,” Grayson said, waving it off. “I prefer walking when I can, but it would take us until tomorrow to get there.”
“But…” I looked into his eyes. “You had a limo drive us to the lake.”
His lips stretched against visible efforts to contain the smile. “I was trying to impress you.”
I blinked, then licked my lips. The need to feel him close to me was so abrupt and strong that I didn’t wait for any cue. I
leaned in and took the kiss I wanted. My lips on his, his cologne in my nostrils, and his hand on the back of my head; I kissed
him for a long moment, feeling the sensation spill all throughout my body.
I was so ready for him.
When I pulled back, Grayson grinned and turned his head forward before getting the car moving. “Where are we going,
then?”
“Oh, Avery, if you think I’m going to tell you, you haven’t met me yet.” He laughed joyfully.
I shrugged. “It was worth a shot.”
“Just relax, pretty boy,” he said. “You won’t regret it.”
I buckled my seatbelt and felt the heat rising to my face at being called a pretty boy. He had such a casual attitude that it
calmed me down. Not that I was nervous. It wasn’t exactly that. I was antsy, maybe. I wanted this to go well. I wanted all his
effort so far to pay off. I wanted him to wake up tomorrow morning and thank all the gods that he’d taken the chance on me.
Maybe it was a lot to pull off in one night.
Freddy Mercury’s best hits played from the speakers and Grayson hummed to each tune. The shortening days meant we
were running out of daylight before we arrived wherever he was taking us. We talked, although not at any particular lengths. He
said he couldn’t wait to see my face when we got there. It only added another ounce of dread, but I pushed that aside and
waited.
Grayson was someone who could chat idly without getting tired, but when he was silent, it was never the awkward silence
of one who had nothing to say. I wasn’t gifted with the same talent, but I could listen. So he told me about growing up, being
spoiled rotten as a kid, and feeling like an outcast as a teenager. He told me about the guilt that was wired into him when he
was younger and all the years it had taken him to get rid of it. “I feel like a normal person now,” he said. “I really do. The
worst is behind me.”
“I’m glad about that,” I said honestly. “You are normal.”
He glanced at me shortly before returning his gaze to the highway. “I’m glad I didn’t really meet you last year. I was a mess,
acting out, living the fantasies I’d suppressed in my teen years.”
I couldn’t relate to the feeling, but I understood what he meant.
“I don’t think you would have liked me,” Grayson said flatly. “I didn’t like myself.”
“You’re not the same person, Gray,” I said.
He grinned.
“What?”
He glanced at me twice in rapid succession. “You called me Gray.”
“So?” I asked, but I knew. I felt it, too. It was hard not to be aware of our proximity. It was like every time I saw him, some
invisible cord between us grew stronger and thicker.
“I like it,” he said.
We sat in comfortable silence for a time. Gray liked me calling him Gray and it made my heart jitter to know that. The
music branched out to other classic hits, all of which I knew and all of which Gray could match with his humming and
occasional whisper-singing.
As the night completely overtook the day, Gray left the highway behind us and drove up a winding road into the mountains.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d be worried,” I said as we curved around a bend. The only light came from the car’s
headlights, but it didn’t reach far. We were deep in a pine forest, climbing higher and higher with each curve.
“Oh? And what do you think you know?” he asked jokingly.
I snorted. “I know you couldn’t kidnap me. I’d kick your ass.”
“I don’t need to kidnap you,” Grayson said. “I already stole you.”
My heart nearly burst out of my chest. I bit my lip hard against the silly smile that tried to spill. Up and up and up we went
for several more songs. Finally, between giant sentinels, I spotted an iron-wrought gate.
Grayson slowed to a halt and pulled the window down. I could only see him reach for something outside the car before I
heard a female voice come through a speaker out of my field of vision. I didn’t understand her.
“Grayson Reed,” my date said, and a reply crackled from the speaker. A moment later, the iron gates pulled inward and
opened to let us pass. The road continued through the forest, although it didn’t look as wild as the thick evergreen that
separated us from the civilization we had just left behind.
“I swear to God, Gray, if it turns out that you’re part of a cult and I’m the blood sacrifice, you’ll have a very awkward
encounter in the afterlife.” I didn’t even realize I’d said it until Grayson threw his head back and laughed out loud.
“Aww, that’s sweet. You expect us to meet in the afterlife. Forever and ever.” He feigned heart-eyes, although they seemed
a lot like the regular way he looked at me. “Kudos on that joke, by the way,” he teased.
“I learn,” I said. Sawyer would have been beside himself if he’d heard me now. He never missed a chance to point out that
I ‘did sarcasm’ whenever it happened.
Slowly, we reached a long single-story house and Grayson told me to wait inside the car. He hopped out, walked into the
house, and returned a few minutes later. The anticipation was building inside of me so much that my foot started tapping the
car’s floor against my best attempts to keep it calm.
Grayson wore an innocent expression as he drove on. We passed the house and followed the narrow road at a crawling
pace. There were wooden road signs pointing to even narrower paths into the woods. Each was a different color and had a
number painted prominently, so I puzzled out what this was. And when Grayson took a right turn and drove up the dirt road
between the pines and sentinels, I held my breath. What appeared in front of us was nothing short of a dream. A red brick-and-
mortar cottage with a terracotta roof, arched green door, matching windows, potted plants with memories of their bloom still
clinging to them, and an orange and yellow light coming from above the entrance.
“Gray,” I whispered.
He killed the engine and met my gaze. “Do you like it?”
“I…don’t even know where to start,” I said.
“Come,” he suggested, and we got out of the car after we took our backpacks from the back seat. I followed him as he
approached the house. “If you’re hungry, the kitchen is open until eleven. They do room service, but the restaurant looks too
cozy not to go there.”
I wasn’t hungry. Or, at least, I wasn’t hungry for food. I was starving for his affection and kisses, though. It was clear as day
to me that I wanted us to lock the door when we were inside. I didn’t care about food or drinks or air. I wanted him. Only him.
Grayson unlocked the door and we entered the house. When he turned the lights on, there wasn’t a single overhead bulb.
All were lamps in the windows and corners of the room. The place was spacious, with a high ceiling and an open floor plan.
To my left, there was a round dining table with four chairs. A lamp in the middle mimicked candlelight and was discreetly
connected to the light switch Gray had just flicked on. Against the back wall, behind the table and chairs, there was a huge
wine rack. The majority of space was taken up by the sleeping and living areas to my right. It was separated by vertical planks
that allowed me to partially see through the gaps. On my side, there was a long sofa, armchairs around a coffee table, and a
huge flat-screen TV mounted to the wall with bookshelves around it. Behind the partial wall of planks, there was obviously a
huge bed. I could see one nightstand from where I stood. And to the left of the bed, there was a door, which I figured led to the
bathroom.
“This is…” I whispered, but words failed me. It was warm inside and so cozy that I instantly knew I wanted my future
home to look precisely like this.
“I know,” Grayson said in apparent awe. “It’s way better than in the photos.”
“I can’t believe you did this,” I said. “And I was suggesting my room.” I had to laugh. “You are unbelievable.”
He turned to me, his backpack dropping off his shoulder. “Do you like it?”
“Are you kidding? I love it.” A grin was plastered to my face and there was no way to contain it.
“I was worried,” he admitted. “Maybe I went too far. Or not far enough. I overthink sometimes, and I get obsessive,
according to Spencer. I didn’t want to scare you, but I also didn’t want to disappoint you. I just wanted to make it special. Like
you deserve.”
I couldn’t tell why he thought I deserved anything special. My lips parted and I gazed at him in absolute wonder.
“So…hungry?” he asked.
I shook my head. I watched the sharp contour of his red lips and desperately wanted to kiss them. I wanted to put my hands
on his biceps and feel them bunching. I wanted to wrestle for dominance and I wanted to dance to soft music. I wanted to dig
my fingers into his hard pecs and I wanted to softly kiss every inch of him. The hot coals that had been glowing in me since our
first night together were a wildfire of desire now. My stomach was full of the fluttering wings of butterflies. My nerve endings
tingled. My whole body was desperate for him.
“Me neither,” Grayson said. “Thirsty? There’s wine.”
“Maybe later,” I said. I felt like I was hovering above the ground. I felt like we were drifting on the open sea. I wanted to
leap and cross the distance between us, but I had to know he was ready. It wasn’t just my comfort we had to respect. Far from
it. The fact that he had given me weeks and never once added the pressure of expectation made me very careful in how I did
this.
“Later?” His tone was mildly teasing.
“After…” I said the word and paused, but Grayson’s glittering eyes were completely on me. I inhaled through my nose.
There was a speech I could give, thanking him for being such a gentle creature. And there was the option not to speak at all but
lean in and hope for the best. I chose neither. “Gray, if you don’t kiss me in three seconds, I might actually die.”
 He laughed as he looked at the ceiling, then met my gaze and quite literally swept me off my feet. He spun me around until
my back bumped against the door and his front leaned against me hard enough to keep me pinned.
When Grayson’s lips touched mine, it wasn’t the gentle kiss of the sweetheart that he was. It was a hungry, determined kiss.
It carried all the waiting and all the patience I had subjected him to, but there was more. It was lusty and flirtatious. It was
playful as much as it was heated. He kissed me hard, but the tip of his tongue was careful as it explored my mouth. He kissed
me like he had something to prove. Like he was saving my life.
And I kissed him back. As soon as the first moan slipped from me, I clutched his light cream shirt with both fists and kissed
him like I hadn’t been joking; like my life depended on it. His lips were sweet and his breath minty, but it was the scent of his
cologne that did such wonders to my body. Something about it was so deeply rooted in my mind. It was him. Leather and musk
and a hot day in the city. It was so Grayson that my heart pounded harder and faster whenever I smelled it.
His wet lips dragged over mine and his tongue played against mine for a few moments longer. Then, Grayson pulled back.
“How’s that?”
My throat was tight and I heaved for air. “That’s a good start.”
Grayson’s unbreakable spirit and good mood were all over his face. I realized, then, that I had always associated him with
an abstract idea of happiness. He was what joy looked like if it had a human body. His smiles were always the brightest and
his laughter the loudest. “Before that, though, I just want to say…”
I bit my lip. Come on. I need you. But I waited.
“We don’t have to,” he said. “If you’re not ready, we can binge The Lord of the Rings trilogy, extended cut obviously, and
play drinking games.”
As charming as that idea was, I didn’t want that. I looked into his eyes and placed my hands on his cheeks, framing his face.
To feel his skin against mine was enough to turn me on. This bond that connected us might have been just an idea or my
imagination, but it was strong enough to make things perfectly clear. I wanted Grayson. I wanted him naked. I wanted him under
me and on top of me. I wanted us to discover, together, what it was like to have sex with someone you truly liked. With a whole
person, not just their body. “That fact that you’re suggesting it makes me twice as sure. If you want to, of course.”
“Oh, Avery,” he said softly. “I’ve wanted you since I first laid my eyes on you.”
A breath hitched in my throat. “That was…over a year ago.”
“And I’m so happy I waited,” he said. “It’s worth every goddamn second because I feel like I’m ready. I’m glad we didn’t
hook up when it crossed my mind.” His hands were on my shoulders, sliding along my arms and reaching for my wrists. “And
I’m glad we didn’t hook up on our first date. It makes this so much better.” He slowly lifted my hands from his face and all the
way above my head. His chest pushed against mine as my wrists crossed and bumped against the door. “But before that, I want
to say…ask…” He looked into my eyes for a long moment. “I want to ask you to be my boyfriend. For real, I mean. Officially.”
A boyfriend. It rang through my mind and picked up every shred of meaning, soaking it all up, growing, glowing brilliantly,
and fitting in like it was always supposed to be like this. It fell into place like a puzzle piece I had been missing. “Yes,” I said
and was surprised at how giddy my voice was. “Let’s do it.”
“I knew you’d say that,” Grayson said slightly cockily. “I don’t know why I was so nervous.”
I’d never had a boyfriend. And I knew that Grayson hadn’t had a boyfriend before, either. I didn’t know what sort of duties
came with the title, but it didn’t matter. I found that I wanted the whole package. I wanted to be his and only his. And I wanted
to do whatever boyfriends did. It couldn’t be that hard, right? Do everything to make his life better. Do everything to make him
happy. Move the mountains to see him smile.
I didn’t even realize it, but our faces had gotten so close that the tip of his nose was brushing gently against mine. He shook
his head to make the tips of our noses touch this way and that, and his gorgeous smile was still on his lips. I kissed him softly at
first and it felt different. Better. It felt right.
He held my hands high above my head as his broad chest pressed against mine harder. It made it hard for me to breathe, but
I didn’t worry about it. I didn’t like breathing nearly as much as I liked feeling him so close.
Grayson’s crotch pressed against mine. It was thrilling and scary and incredible at the same time. It was all these things and
more. The hardness I felt down there set fire to my groin. I suddenly wanted something more. The need erupted in me. My
hands jerked, but they were secured in Gray’s grip. Instead, I thrust my hips forward, pressing my hard length against his and
feeling air drain out of my lungs as I moaned.
“So impatient,” he murmured against my lips. “Where’s that coming from?”
I bit his lower lip as soon as he kissed me again. He jerked back and laughed. “…waited too long…” I couldn’t talk. My
words were slurred and short, my breaths shallow, and my body strung so tight that I was going to snap like a rubber band if he
didn’t take us to bed soon. Or the dining table. Or the floor. I didn’t care. The lust I had been keeping low for fear of another
meaningless hookup now ran wild. It was free of its cage and it was like lava erupting from a volcano. “…need you…Gray…”
He kissed me again, hard and fast, his tongue exploring my mouth. When he released my wrists, he set his hands on my hips.
I placed one hand on the back of his head and the other on the small of his back. We made out like it was all we ever wanted.
Bodies grinding, sighs and gasps and wet kisses filled the air around us.
 I pressed his back hard with my hand just to feel more of him and then I had a moment of dread because I had completely
forgotten to ask. “Gray, are you a top or a bottom?” I blurted against his lips. Not that it mattered that much, but I hadn’t even
thought to ask until now.
“I’m whatever you want me to be,” he said in a low murmur.
With that out of the way, I turned us around in a surprise gesture and pressed him against the door. Swapping places, I
showed him I could be just as dominant. We had danced this dance on the ice so many times; it was only appropriate we tried
to best each other behind closed doors, too.
Rubbing all of my body against him felt like the most erotic and inspiring thing in the world. We were both so hard that it
practically hurt to press against each other.
“That photo you sent,” he whispered as I moved my lips off of his and trailed his jawline. “With your tattoos on your
collarbones…” He moaned when I sucked the soft skin of his neck, feeling his pulse under my lips. “I can’t get it out of my
head, Avery. You’re so…handsome. So sexy.” He wrapped his arms around my torso and held me so close I couldn’t take a
deep breath. I kissed and sucked and licked the length of his neck, tickling him and turning him on.
The anxiety over making some blunder along the way had almost completely disappeared. I had this under control. We
were boyfriends now. It meant something. It made things different. Easier.
And when I dragged his shirt out of his pants, he released me a little. We kissed again, but our fingers were busy with each
other’s shirts. One by one, we undid the buttons, and I stepped back.
Gray. He was chiseled and defined like an athlete, and like it was an aesthetic. Everything about him was tuned to
perfection. Every curve was designed with a purpose, every bulge a mouth-watering sight.
He shrugged his shirt off just as I pulled mine down my arms. We tossed them on the floor and moved around each other
slowly, nearing but not yet touching. He examined the dagger and tiger tattoos that were stained into my skin and smirked. “I
knew you had more. I just knew it.”
“Touch them,” I dared him.
He didn’t hesitate. His fingertips dragged over my collarbones, then down the side of my ribcage to feel the tiger tattoo
done in an East Asian style. As he moved his fingers along my torso, he bent his head low. His lips touched my collarbone, and
he kissed the tattoos, then lowered himself even more until his lips closed around my left nipple.
I ran my fingers through his hair and clutched a fistful on the back of his head. It was soft but had a bit of hair product that
kept it in place. I made a mess of his bright blond locks as he sucked my nipple and sent tingles all through my body. His teeth
closed around it, making it small and hard, and goosebumps covered my left pec as well as my arms.
I choked on a moan, then pulled his head back. We looked at each other, sparks of desire flying out of our eyes, and I
slammed my mouth against his. Grunts and moans increased as we felt freer to explore one another.
Our hands were everywhere. He was feeling my torso and I was squeezing his ass. He swiped his palm over my length and
I dragged my hands to his broad upper back, then pulled them slowly down, grazing his soft skin with my nails.
I tumbled backward, bumping against the planks that separated the sleeping part of the house from the sitting area. We
turned around, and I charged forth, pushing Grayson back until he tripped over the edge of the bed. His arms were around me
before he fell, so we both landed on the bed. He sank into the mattress and I collapsed on top of him. Pleasure moans and
laughter mixed as we collided and coiled.
“So fucking hot,” he grunted while I kissed his neck and chest. I moved further down, following the middle of his torso; all
the while, my fingers were busy playing gently with his nipples. I pinched them and Grayson laughed nervously, wiggling his
body under me.
I kissed him softly, lower and lower until I reached his belt buckle with my chin. Before I could even try, his hands shot
down, and he unbuckled it, then pulled the zipper of his pants down and undid the button.
I lifted my head to examine him. Bathed in the subdued orange glow of the many little lamps, his features were soft. He
wiggled his hips and pulled himself back on the bed, propping his upper torso higher with elbows on the mattress. His abs
were tense and defined in that pose and I wished I could draw or paint so I could bring this sight to canvas. I wanted to
immortalize him.
I gently pulled his dark blue pants down his legs, freeing the big bulge in his black boxer briefs and failing to tame my
heart. It banged hard against my ribcage as excitement filled me.
“By the way,” he said softly as I dragged his pants down and off his legs. I tossed them on the floor and straightened my
torso. “We can do whatever you want, but I’m on PrEP.”
I had to grin as I nodded. “Me too.”
His eyebrows dragged up. “Really?”
I nodded. “Truth is, I knew I wanted this. Eventually.” I pulled my belt from my pants just as Grayson bit his lip and
watched me undress. I had to get off the bed to take my pants off, but I left my dark red boxer briefs on for dramatic effect. His
gaze trailed my body until it landed on the thick bulge in my boxers. Then, I could see the fire in his gaze.
Slowly, I knelt between his spread legs and the boyish excitement on Grayson’s face made the wait so much more worth it.
Not just that, but the sheer amount of comfort I felt as our gazes held told me I had made the right choice. It had never felt this
good. I had never wanted it this much. The eroticism of simply being in our underwear, shamelessly hard, heated, and a little
sweaty, was something I’d never experienced before.
“I’m gonna win this staring contest,” Grayson teased. “And you’ll have to take them off first.”
I laughed and blinked by accident, and then we laughed together. “Fair enough.”
His chest rose and fell a little quicker. He swallowed and wiggled a little for a more comfortable position. And I took my
time. My hands rested on my abs and I slowly and carefully dragged them down until my thumbs hooked inside the waistband.
As I pulled it down, my dick strained and went with the waistband. Inch by inch, I revealed more flesh, more of my shaved skin
where hair was beginning to grow again, and finally, the base of my cock.
“Tease.” It sounded almost accusingly. Grayson inhaled and held his breath.
When the waistband slipped over the tip of my length, my cock sprang and throbbed. I had never felt this free and
comfortable with my own nudity. The delight on his face and the glassy look of lust in his eyes were more than enough of a
reward.
Grayson folded his lips inward, corners lifting into a shy smile. “Fuck,” he whispered. “You’re big.” Pleased? He looked
like he was. But he wasn’t exactly modest, either. I could tell before he even undressed.
I pulled my underwear down and wiggled them under my knees, then pushed them further until they fell over my feet and
onto the floor. In a heartbeat, I was on top of him, and Grayson moaned. He made little sounds of pleasure as I kissed his torso
and traveled down to where I wanted to kiss him the most. Kiss and lick and suck. I wanted to eat him, choke on him, and I
wanted to do all of that while I looked him in the eyes. Just because I had needed time to be comfortable having sex with him, it
didn’t make me any less adventurous. The fact that he had been so patient and kind made me twice as daring now.
When I felt the fabric of his boxers under my lips, I didn’t pull them down. Instead, I met his gaze and I kissed his bulge. He
was hard and throbbing at every touch, but I kept going. His cheeks were pink and his sexy lips parted.
I traced the thick outline of his cock with my mouth, moving from the tip to the curve of his balls and back. My hands were
busy tracing his abs, feeling all of him as I teased his dick. And when I felt the dampness under my lips, I could barely contain
my excitement. He could tell I was grinning the moment before I closed my lips around the tip of his cock. Precum had soaked
through the stretched fabric and my wet tongue added to it.
A long groan broke out of him. He shuddered and his head dropped back. “Fuck, Avery, you’re driving me crazy.” He thrust
his hips up a little, his cock grinding against my mouth.
I snatched the waistband of his underwear from the small of his back when he lifted his hips, and I dragged them off his ass.
His skin was smooth under my fingers and I cupped his cheeks firmly in both hands. I rubbed them, massaged them, and
squished them together until I lost control over my actions. When that happened, I practically tore his underwear down his legs,
freeing his big dick and watching it stiffen above his abdomen. It was so hard that it wouldn’t rest on his stomach. And it was
beautiful. The tip was dark with desire, slick with precum, and swollen with expectation. I almost choked on my saliva before
I leaned in.
“Turn around,” Grayson said in a strained voice. “I want to suck you, too.”
My heart leaped as I did as he asked. I laid on my right side after turning around on the bed, and Grayson turned on his right
side, too, facing me. His crotch was inches away from my face, inviting me in, and my dick was pulsing uncontrollably as
Grayson wrapped his fingers around it.
After slight tension, I felt the warmth of his mouth on my tip. He sucked me in, lips sealing around the head, and pushed
himself down on my thickness. A heartbeat later, I did the same, almost losing it as the tip of my tongue touched the slickness of
his precum. Deliciously sweet and salty, it coated my tongue as I sucked him deeper into my mouth.
Gray moaned, impaling his head on me, and throbbed in my mouth while I savored every moment of this. His flavors and
his scents, the softness of his skin, and the proximity of our souls. I loved it all. I went down on him harder, my nose touching
his balls, my throat relaxing for his cock, and saliva dripping out of the corner of my mouth. I had my left hand on his ass,
pressing him gently to charge deeper into me. My fingers traveled along the curve of his peachy butt, then reached closer to the
middle. I might have expected him to tense at the touch, but he seemed to relax. My fingers flowed softly between his cheeks,
feeling him, getting him used to my touch.
Grayson moaned with my dick in his mouth and grabbed my hip. He nudged me, and I realized what he wanted, so I
followed until we rolled over. He lay flat on his back, my cock sliding deeper into his throat, and I bobbed my head up and
down to suck him at a steady pace.
The slight choking noises he made warned me to slow down, but he canceled it immediately by wrapping his arms around
my waist and pulling me lower. As I penetrated his relaxed throat, my balls pressed hard against his nose, and I filled him with
all my length. And whenever I did that, he throbbed harder in my mouth.
I rammed him until he gagged, pushing my head down on him just the same. And even when I lifted myself off his head, he
still pulled me back down. My fingers simultaneously played with the space between his cheeks. I felt the warmth of his hole
and its pulse at first touch. The deeper his cock reached into my mouth, the tenser his hole was. Every time he throbbed, I felt it
on his taint and in his tightness.
A gentle tap on my side was enough for me to back away. I pulled my dick out of his mouth and let his fall on his stomach
with a wet slap. It stiffened up again a moment later, unable to rest.
Gasping for air, Grayson let out a short laugh of relief. “You’ll make me come too soon,” he said. As I climbed off of him,
he sat up. He grabbed my head and pressed his lips hard against mine before I knew what was happening. He kissed me with
his tongue inside my mouth and my scent on his lips. “You have no idea how hot you are,” he said.
If he was tempted to say it, maybe he was right. Even so, I didn’t think too much about that. He was too beautiful and too
willing for me to get distracted with thoughts of self-awareness and confidence. He was here.
“So? How do you want me?” he asked, his voice a little cheeky and his smile purely happy. “Active? Passive? Sideways?”
He laughed a little.
I pinched his chin between my fingers and lifted his head so he would look into my eyes. Slowly, I let my words roll over
my lips. “I want to fuck you this time. I want to give you a ride of your life. I wanna show you that you were absolutely right to
come after me, Gray.”
The tips of his ears turned red and his eyes widened with desire. “Fuck me, then,” he said.
I slid my arm under his legs and tipped him over. He sprawled on his back, laughing, as I spread his legs and pushed back
all the way until his knees were on his shoulders. He was beautiful like this. His skin was smooth almost everywhere, with
some pale hair on his shins and lower thighs. He was still hard as marble, the slickness of precum and my saliva smeared over
his stomach. His taint was thick and hard, and as his cheeks spread for me, his hole was tight and pink. It pulsed just as his taint
and dick throbbed.
As I leaned in, our gazes met and held, and I exhaled slowly over his bare skin. He sucked air between his teeth, his lips
spreading into a contained smile. And when my lips touched his hole, parting to let my tongue out, Grayson cursed and pleaded
at the same time. “Please, Avery…oh, fuck, please…” But he never got the rest out of his mouth. He moaned as my tongue
pressed hard against his hole and I licked him until his eyes rolled back into his skull. The faint trace of the scent of his body
wash lingered on his skin. It was as exciting as his cologne, but his natural musk, present in distant memories more than in
reality, was the most alluring of all. I ate him, rubbing my tongue and lips and chin against the narrow space between his
cheeks, slicking him for later and counting my damn blessings for scoring a guy like this.
For his part, Grayson was physical. He was handsy, touching me everywhere, wriggling under me, and bending however I
directed him. He was enough of a gymnast to spread his legs wide and lift his ass high for a long time, not shaking or quivering,
not complaining. He moaned, though, and panted. I discovered how loud he was in bed and it was my new favorite Grayson
Reed fact.
He was mouthy, too, which only made me hornier, but did nothing to increase the mercy I had for him. He begged to be
fucked like a slut and whimpered he needed to feel my dick inside of him. And when I probed him with one long, slender
finger, he hyperventilated and grabbed my wrist to ram the finger inside harder and faster than I did. He begged for another
finger, then another. And when I teased him slowly instead of penetrating him roughly, he threatened to get back at me,
bargained, and once again begged.
Sweat matted his blond hair, turning it a few shades darker and making locks stick to his brow. His face was redder and
more heated than ever before and his chest was covered with a fine layer of sweat.
When I pulled my fingers out of the warmth of his hole, I rubbed him soothingly. “You’re ready,” I said.
“Fuck me, please,” he demanded hoarsely. “I need you.”
I brought lube from my backpack while Gray lifted his legs again and wrapped his arms under his knees, bending for me
and holding himself in place. When I knelt in front of him, I was glad he chose this position for himself. I could look at his face.
I could also lean in and kiss him.
I tucked a pillow under his lower back and rubbed myself with lube. We’d made an informed decision that made things
more fun for both of us and I didn’t hesitate to forget about the rubber. To feel his skin on mine, to feel myself sinking into him,
to feel that warmth around my cock, it was like all my dreams coming true. Never had it felt this good.
I eased myself into him gently, fractionally, pausing whenever I saw him wince. And Grayson kept himself relaxed and
open to me. He held his breath and gazed deep into my eyes as I swung my hips back and forth, impaling him deeper but just as
slowly. His hole tightened around the middle of my dick, his cock pulsing with a long, silver string of precum dripping from the
tip to the middle of his chest.
A few moments later, something in him relaxed more. I eased deeper in and felt him welcome me. The warmth between us
and the bare contact excited me beyond all of my expectations. The tightness of his body kept me on the edge, but the way he
embraced me and allowed me to enter him made my heart dance.
“Ah, yes, that’s good,” he whispered, panting as I pulled back and pushed myself in.
I had been holding his hips until now, but when I could swing my body back and thrust it forth, I released them. His feet
rested on my shoulders, giving me resistance and support as I leaned in. My hands pressed hard against his chest and Grayson
grabbed my wrists as if to hold onto me. Inch by inch, we both dragged my hands up his torso; all the while, I fucked him at an
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
 “No. Nor do I care for wit in ladies. Your sister has been everything that
is perfect—sympathetic, an interested listener, one who shares one’s
opinions completely, and who never says a word more than is absolutely
necessary; but thank goodness I have not yet observed her descend to the
unwomanliness of wit.”
Mrs. Menzies-Legh looked at me as though I were being funny. It was a
way she had, and one which I particularly disliked; for surely few things are
more offensive than to be treated as amusing when you are not. “Evidently,”
said she, “you have a soothing and restraining influence over Betti, dear
Baron. Has she, then, never made you laugh?”
“Certainly not,” said I with conviction.
“But look at Mr. Jellaby—do you see how he is laughing?”
“At his own dull jokes, I should say,” I said, bestowing a momentary
glance on the slouching figure in front. His face was turned toward Frau von
Eckthum, and he was certainly laughing, and to an unbecoming extent.
“Oh, not a bit. He is laughing at Betti.”
“I have heard your sister,” said I emphatically, “talking in general
company—such company, that is, as this tour affords—and she has done it
invariably seriously, and rather poetically, but never has more than smiled
herself, and never raised that doubtful tribute, a laugh.”
“That,” said Mrs. Menzies-Legh, “was because you were there, dear
Baron. I tell you, you soothe and restrain.”
I bowed. “I am glad,” I said, “that I exert a good influence over the
party.”
“Oh, very,” said she, her eyelashes cast down. “But what does Betti talk
to you about, then? The scenery?”
“Your tactful sister, my dear lady, does not talk at all. Or rather, what she
says consists entirely of one word, spoken indeed with so great a variety of
expression that it expands into volumes. It is that that I admire so profoundly
in her. If all ladies would take a lesson——”
“But—what word?” interrupted Mrs. Menzies-Legh, who had been
listening with a growing astonishment on her face—astonishment, I suppose,
that so near a relative should be also a person of tact and delicacy.
“Your sister simply says Oh. It sounds a small thing, and slightly bald
stated in this manner, yet all I can say is that if every woman——”
 Mrs. Menzies-Legh, however, made a little exclamation and bent down
hastily.
“Dear Baron,” she said, “I’ve got a thorn or something in my shoe. I’ll
wait for our caravan to come up, and get in and take it out. Auf
Wiedersehen.”
And she fell behind.
This was the first really agreeable conversation I had had with Mrs.
Menzies-Legh. I walked on alone for some miles, turning it over with
pleasure. It was of course pleasant to reflect that I alone of the party had a
beneficial influence over her whom her sister was entitled to describe as
Betti; and it was also pleasant (though only what was to be expected) that I
should exercise a good influence over the entire party. “Soothing” was Mrs.
Menzies-Legh’s word. Well, what was happening was that these English
people were being leavened hourly and ceaselessly with German yeast; and
now that it had been put into so many words I did see that I soothed them,
for I had observed that whenever I approached a knot of them, however
loudly it had been laughing and talking it sank into a sudden calm—it was
soothed, in fact—and presently dispersed about its various duties.
But nothing occurred after this that day that was pleasant. I plodded along
alone. Rain came down and mud increased, but still I plodded. It was
pretended to me that we were unusually unlucky in the weather and that
England does not as a rule have a summer of the sort; I, however, believe
that it does, regularly every year, as a special punishment of Providence for
its being there at all, or how should the thing be so very green? Mud and
greenness, mud and greenness, that is all the place is made of, thought I,
trudging between the wet hedges after an hour’s rain had set everything
dripping.
Stolidly I followed, at my horse’s side, whither the others led. In the rain
we passed through villages which the ladies in every tone of childish
enthusiasm cried out were delightful, Edelgard joining in, Edelgard indeed
loudest, Edelgard in fact falling in love in the silliest way with every
thatched and badly repaired cottage that happened to have a show of flowers
in its garden, and saying—I heard her with my own ears—that she would
like to live in one. What new affectation was this, I asked myself? Not one
of our friends who would not (very properly) leave off visiting us if we
looked as poor as thatch. To get and to keep friends the very least that you
must have is a handsome sofa-set in a suitably sized drawing-room. Edelgard
till then had been justly proud of hers, which cost a sum so round that it
seems written in velvet letters all over it. It is made of the best of everything
—wood, stuffing, covers, and springs, and has a really beautiful walnut-
wood table in the middle, with its carved and shapely legs resting on a
square of carpet so good that many a guest has exclaimed in tones of envy as
her feet sank into it, “But dearest Baroness, where and how did you secure
so truly glorious a carpet? It must have cost——!” And eyes and hands
uplifted complete the sentence.
To think of Edelgard with this set and all that it implies in the background
of her consciousness affecting a willingness to leave it, tried my patience a
good deal; and about three o’clock, having all collected in a baker’s shop in
a wet village called Salehurst for the purpose of eating buns (no camp being
in immediate prospect), I told her in a low tone how ill enthusiasms about
things like thatch sit on a woman who is going to be thirty next birthday.
“Dear wife,” I begged, “do endeavour not to be so calf-like. If you think
these pretences pretty let me tell you you are mistaken. The others will not
tell you so, because the others are not your husband. Nobody is taken in,
nobody believes you. Everybody sees you are old enough to be sensible.
But, not being your husband, they are obliged to be polite and feign to agree
and sympathize, while they are really secretly lamenting your inability to
adjust your conversation to your age.”
This I said between two buns; and would have said more had not the
eternal Jellaby thrust himself between us. Jellaby was always coming
between man and wife, and this time he did it with a glass of fizzy
lemonade. Edelgard refused it, and Jellaby (pert Socialist) thanked her
earnestly for doing so, saying he would be wholly unable to respect a woman
who drank fizzy lemonade.
Respect a woman? What a tone to adopt to a married lady whose husband
is within ear-shot. And what could Edelgard’s tone have been to him before
such a one on his side came within the range of the possible?
“And I must warn you,” I continued with a slightly less pronounced
patience, “very seriously against the consequences likely to accrue if you
allow a person of Jellaby’s sex and standing to treat you with familiarity.
Familiarity and disrespect are one and the same thing. They are inseparable.
They are, in fact, twins. But not ordinary twins—rather that undividable sort
of which there have been luckily only a few examples——”
 “Dear Otto, do have another bun,” said she, pointing to these articles in a
pile on the counter; and as I paused to choose (by means of squeezing) the
freshest, she, although aware I had not finished speaking, slipped away.
I begin to doubt as I proceed with my narrative whether any but relations
had better be admitted to the readings aloud after all. Friends have certain
Judas-like qualities, and might, perhaps, having listened to these sketches of
Edelgard with every appearance of sympathy, go away and misrepresent me.
Relations on the other hand are very sincere and never pretend (which is
why one prefers friends, I sometimes think) and they have, besides, the
family feeling which prevents their discussing each other to the unrelated. It
is possible that I may restrict my invitations solely to them; and yet it seems
a pity not to let my friends in as well. Have they not often suffered in the
same way too? Have they not wives themselves? God help us all.
Continuing our march in the rain we left Salehurst (where I earnestly but
vainly suggested we should camp in the back-yard of the inn) and went
toward Bodiam—a ruined castle, explained Lord Sigismund coming and
walking with me, of great interest and antiquity, rising out of a moat which
at that time of the year would be filled with white and yellow water-lilies.
He knew it well and talked a good deal about it, its position, its
preservation, and especially its lilies. But I was much too wet to care about
lilies. A tight roof and a shut window would have interested me far more.
However, it was agreeable to converse with him, and I soon deftly turned the
conversation while at the same time linking it, as it were, on to the next
subject, by remarking that his serene Aunt in Germany must also be very
old. He vaguely said she was, and showed a tendency to get back to the ruins
nearer at hand, which I dodged by observing that she must make a perfect
picture in her castle in Thuringia, the background being so harmonious, such
an appropriate setting for an old lady, for, as is well known, the castle
grounds contain the most magnificent ruins in Europe. “And your august
Aunt, my dear Lord Sigismund,” I continued, “is, I am certain, not one whit
less magnificent than the rest.”
“Well, I don’t think Aunt Lizzie actually crumbles yet, you know, Baron,”
said Lord Sigismund smiling. “You should see her going about in gaiters
looking after things.”
“There is nothing I would like better than to see her,” I replied with
enthusiasm, for this was surely almost an invitation.
 He, however, made no direct answer but got back to the Bodiam ruins
again, and again I broke the thread of what threatened to become a narrative
by inquiring how long it took to go by train from London to his father the
Duke’s place in Cornwall.
“Oh, it’s at the end of the world,” said he.
“I know, I know. But my wife and I would not like to leave England
without having journeyed thither and looked at a place so famous according
to Baedeker both for its size, its splendour, and its associations. Of course,
my dear Lord Sigismund,” I added with the utmost courtesy, “we expect
nothing. We would be content to go as the merest tourists. In spite of the
length of the journey we should not hesitate to put up at the inn which is no
doubt not far from the ducal gates. There should be no trading on what has
become, certainly on my side and I hope and believe on yours, a warm
friendship.”
“My dear Baron,” said Lord Sigismund heartily, “I agree entirely with
you. Friendship should be as warm as one can possibly make it. Which
reminds me that I haven’t asked poor Menzies-Legh how his foot is getting
on. That wasn’t very warm of me, was it? I must go and see how he is.”
And he dropped behind.
At this time I was leading the procession (by some accident of the start
from the bun shop) and had general orders to go straight ahead unless
signalled to from the rear. I went, accordingly, straight ahead down a road
running along a high ridge, the blank space of rain and mist on either side
filled in no doubt on more propitious days by a good view. Bodiam lay
below somewhere in the flat, and we were going there; for Mrs. Menzies-
Legh, and indeed all the others including Edelgard, wished (or pretended to
wish) to see the ruins. I must decline to believe in the genuineness of such a
wish when expressed, as in this case, by the hungry and the wet. Ruins are
very well, no doubt, but they do come last. A man will not look at a ruin if
he is honest until every other instinct, even the smallest, has been satisfied.
If, not having had his dinner, he yet expresses eagerness to visit such things,
then I say that that man is a hypocrite. To enjoy looking at the roofless must
you not first have a roof yourself? To enjoy looking at the empty must you
not first be filled? For the roofless and the empty to visit and admire other
roofless and other empties seems to me as barren as for ghosts to go to tea
with ghosts.
 Alone I trudged through a dripping world. My thoughts from ruins and
ghosts strayed naturally—for when you are seventy there must be a good
deal of the ghost about you—once more to Lord Sigismund’s august and
aged Aunt in Thuringia, to the almost invitation (certainly encouragement)
he had given me to go and behold her in princely gaiters, to the many
distinct advantages of having such a lady on our visiting list, to conjecture as
to the extent of the Duke her brother’s hospitality should we go down and
take up our abode very openly at the inn at his gates, to the pleasantness
(apart from every other consideration) of staying in his castle after staying in
a caravan, and to the interest of Storchwerder when it heard of it.
The hooting of a yet invisible motor interrupted these musings. It was
hidden in the mist at first, but immediately loomed into view, coming down
the straight road toward me at a terrific pace, coming along with a rush and a
roar, the biggest, swiftest, and most obviously expensive example I had yet
seen.
The road was wide, but sloped away considerably on either side from the
crown of it, and on the crown of it I walked with my caravan. It was a clay
road, made slippery by the rain; did these insolent vulgarians, I asked
myself, suppose I was going to slide down one side in order to make room
for them? Room there was plenty between me in the middle and the gutter
and hedge at the sides. If there was to be sliding, why should it not be they
who slid?
The motor, with the effrontery usual to its class, was right on the top of
the road, in the very pick and middle of it. I perceived that here was my
chance. No motor would dare dash straight on in the face of so slow and
bulky an obstacle as a caravan, and I was sick of them—sick of their dust,
their smell, and their vulgar ostentation. Also I felt that all the other
members of our party would be on my side, for I have related their indignant
comments on the slaying of a pretty young woman by one of these goggled
demons. Therefore I kept on immovably, swerving not an inch from the top
of the road.
The motor, seeing this and now very near, shrieked with childish rage (it
had a voice like an angry woman) at my daring to thwart it. I remained
firmly on my course, though I was obliged to push up the horse which
actually tried of itself to make way. The motor, still shrieking, saw nothing
for it but to abandon the heights to me, and endeavoured to pass on the
slope. As it did it skidded violently, and after a short interval of upheaval and
activity among its occupants subsided into calm and the gutter.
An old gentleman with a very red face struggled into view from among
many wrappers.
I waited till he had finally emerged, and then addressed him impressively
and distinctly from the top of the road. “Road hog,” I said, “let this be a
lesson to you.”
I would have said more, he being unable to get away and I holding, so to
speak, the key to the situation, if the officious Jellaby and the too kind Lord
Sigismund had not come running up from behind breathlessly eager to
render an assistance that was obviously not required.
The old gentleman, shaking himself free from his cloak and rising in the
car, was in the act of addressing me in his turn, for his eyes were fixed on me
and his mouth was opening and shutting in the spasms preliminary to heated
conversation (all of which I observed calmly, leaning against my horse’s
shaft and feeling myself to be in the right) when Lord Sigismund and Jellaby
arrived.
 The old gentleman was in the act of addressing me in his turn

“I do hope you’ve not been hurt——” began Lord Sigismund with his
usual concern for those to whom anything had happened.
The old gentleman gasped. “What? Sidge? It’s your lot?” he exclaimed.
“Hullo, Dad!” was Lord Sigismund’s immediate and astonished response.
It was the Duke.
Now was not that very unfortunate?
 CHAPTER XV

I HAVE observed on frequent occasions in a life now long enough to have

afforded many, a tendency on the part of Providence to punish the just man
because he has been just. Not one to criticize Providence if I can avoid it, I
do feel that this is to be deplored. It is also inexplicable. Marie-Luise died, I
recollect, the very day I had had occasion to speak sharply to her, which
almost looked, I remember thinking at the time, like malice. I was aware,
however, that it was only Providence. My poor wife was being wielded as
the instrument which was to put me in the wrong, and I need not say to you,
my friends, who knew her and know me and were witness of the harmony of
our married life, that her death had nothing to do with my rebukes. You all
remember she was in perfect health that day, and was snatched from my side
late in the afternoon by means of a passing droschke. The droschke passed
over her, and left me, with incredible suddenness, a widower on the
pavement. This might have happened to anybody, but what was so peculiarly
unfortunate was that I had been forced, if I would do my duty, to rebuke her
during the hours immediately preceding the occurrence. Of course, I could
not know about the droschke. I could not know about it; I did my duty; and
by the evening I was the most crushed of men, a prey to the crudest regrets
and self-reproaches. Yet had I not acted aright? Conscience told me Yes.
Alas, how little could Conscience do for my comfort then! In time I got over
it, and regained the calm balance of mind that saw life would stand still if we
feared to speak out because people might die. Indeed, I saw this so clearly
that I not only married again within the year, but made up my mind that no
past experience should intimidate me into not doing my duty by my second
wife; I assumed, that is, from the first my proper position in the household as
its guide and censor, and up to now I am glad to say Providence has left
Edelgard alone, and has not used her (except in minor matters) as a weapon
for making me regret I have done right.
But here, now, was this business with the Duke. Nothing could have been
warmer and more cordial than my feelings toward him and his family. I
admired and liked his son; I infinitely respected his sister; and I only asked
to be allowed to admire, like, and respect himself. Such was my attitude
toward him. Toward motors it was equally irreproachable. I detested their
barbarous methods, and was as anxious as any other decent man to give
them a lesson and help avenge their many unhappy victims. Now came
Providence, stepping in between these two meritorious intentions, and
frustrating both at one blow by the simple expedient of combining the Duke
with the motor. It confounded me; it punished me; it put me in the wrong;
and for what? For doing what I knew was right.
“No one, not even a pastor, can expect me to like that sort of thing,” I
complained to Mrs. Menzies-Legh, to whom I had been talking, owing to her
sister’s being somewhere else.
“No,” said she; and looked at me reflectively as though tempted to say
more. But (no doubt remembering my dislike of talkative women) she
refrained.
I was sitting under one of the ruined arches of Bodiam Castle (never, my
friends, go there; it is a terribly damp place), with the lean lady, while the
others peered about as well as they could, being too tired to do anything but
sit, and weary, too, of spirit, for I am a sensitive man, and had had a troubled
day. The evening had done that which English people call drawing in. Lord
Sigismund was gone—gone with his unreasonably incensed father in the
motor to some place whose name I did not catch, and was not to be back till
the next day. The others, including myself, had, after a prolonged search,
found a very miserable camp with cows in it. It was too late to object to
anything, so there we huddled round our stew-pot in an exposed field, while
the wind howled and a fine rain fell. Our party was oddly silent and
cheerless considering its ordinary spirits. No one said it was healthy and
jolly; even the children did not speak, and sat buttoned up in mackintoshes,
their hands clasped round their knees, their faces, shining with rain, set and
serious. I think the way the Duke had behaved after getting out of the gutter
had depressed them. It had been a disagreeable scene—I should say he was a
man of a hot and uncontrolled temper—and my apologies had been useless.
Then the supper took an unconscionable time preparing. For some reason the
chickens would not boil (they missed Lord Sigismund’s persuasive talent)
and the potatoes could not because the stove on which they stood went out
and nobody noticed it. How bleak and autumnal that field, bare of trees, with
the rain driving over it, looked after the unsatisfactory day I cannot describe
to you. Its dreariness, combined with what had gone before, and with the bad
supper, made me dislike it more than any camp we had had. The thought that
up there on those dank cow-ridden heights we were to spend the night, while
down in Bodiam lights twinkled and happy cottagers undressed in rooms and
went into normal beds instead of inserting themselves sideways into what
was in reality a shelf, was curiously depressing. And when, after supper, our
party was washing up by the flickering lantern-light, with the rain wetting
the plates as quickly as they were dried, I could not refrain from saying as I
stood looking down at them, “So this is what is called pleasure.”
Nobody had anything to say to that.
In self-defense we went down later on, dark and wild though it was, to
the ruins. Sit up there in the wet we could not, and it was too early to go to
bed. Nor could we play at cards in each other’s caravans, because of
questions of decorum. Mrs. Menzies-Legh did, indeed, suggest it, but on my
pointing this out to her with a severity I was prepared to increase if she had
made the least opposition, the suggestion was dropped. Forced to stay out-
of-doors we were forced to move, or rheumatism would certainly have
claimed us for its own, so we set out once again along the muddy lanes,
leaving Menzies-Legh (who was sulking terribly) to mind the camp, and
trudged the two miles down to the castle.
Mrs. Menzies-Legh walked with me. Directly she saw I was alone, the
others hurrying on ahead at a pace I did not care to keep up with, she loitered
behind till I overtook her and walked with me.
I have made no secret of the fact that this lady seemed to mark me during
the tour for her special prey. You, my hearers, must have noticed it by now,
for I conceal nothing. I can safely say I was not to blame, for in no way did I
encourage her. Not only must she have been over thirty, but more than once
she had allowed herself to do that which can only be described as poking fun
at me. Besides, I do not care for the type. I dislike the least suggestion of
wiriness in woman; and there was nothing of her bodily (except wire) and
far too much intellectually—I mean so far as a woman can be intellectual,
which, of course, is not far at all. I therefore feel entirely conscience-clear,
and carefully avoiding any comments which might give the impression of
vanity on my part, merely state the bare facts that the lady was constantly at
my elbow, that my elbow was reluctant, and that no other member of the
party clung to it like that.
There she sat with me, for instance, in the ruins, pretending she was tired
too, though of course she was not, for never was any one more active, and
for want of a better listener—Frau von Eckthum had from the first melted
away among the shadows—I was obliged to talk to her in the above strain.
However, one cannot really talk to such a woman, not really converse with
her. She soon reminded me of this fact (which I well knew) by inquiring
whether I did not think people were very apt to call that Providence which
was in reality nothing more nor less than their own selves—“Or,” she added
(profanely) “if they’re in another mood they call it the Devil, but it is always
just themselves.”
Well, I had not come through the mud to Bodiam to be profane, so I
gathered my wraps about me and prepared to go.
“But I do see your point,” she said, noticing these preparations, and
realizing, perhaps, that she had gone too far. “Things do sometimes happen
very unluckily, and punishments are out of all proportion to the offence. I
think, for instance, it was perfectly terrible for you that you should have
been scolding your wife——”
“Not scolding. Rebuking.”
“It’s the same thing——”
“Certainly not.”
“Rebuking her, then, up to the very moment—oh, it would have killed
me!”
And she shivered.
“My dear lady,” said I, slightly amused, “a man has certain duties, and he
performs them. Sometimes they are unpleasant, and he still performs them.
If he allowed himself to be killed each time there would be a mighty dearth
of husbands in the world, and what would you all do then?”
Women however have no sense of humour, and she was unable to catch at
this straw of it offered her for the purpose of lightening the conversation. On
the contrary, she turned her head and looking at me gravely (pretty eyes,
wasted) she said, “But how much better never, never to do your duty.”
“Really——” I protested.
“Yes. If it means being unkind.”
“Unkind? Is a mother unkind who rebukes her child?”
“Oh, call it by its proper name—scolding, preaching, advising, abusing—
it’s all unkind, wickedly unkind.”
“Abusing, my dear lady?”
“Come, now, Baron, what you said to the Duke——”
“Ah. That was an unfortunate accident. I did what under any other
circumstances would have been my duty, and Providence——”
 “Oh, Baron dear, leave Providence alone. And leave your duty alone. A
tongue doing its duty is such a terrible instrument of destruction. Why, you
can almost see all the little Loves and Charities turning paler and paler and
weaker and weaker the longer it wags, and shrivelling up quite at last and
being snuffed out. Really I have been thankful on my knees every time I
have not said what I was going to say when I’ve been annoyed.”
“Indeed?” said I, ironically.
I might have added that no great strain could have been put upon her
knees, for I could conceive no woman less likely to be silent if she wanted to
speak. But, candidly, what did it matter? I have always found it quite
impossible to take a woman seriously, even when I am attracted; and heaven
knows I had no desire to sit on stones in that wet place while this one spread
out her little stock of ill-assimilated wisdom for my (presumable)
improvement.
I therefore began to button up my cloak with an unmistakable finality,
determined to seek the others and suggest a return to the camp.
“You forget,” I said, while I buttoned, “that an outburst of annoyance has
nothing whatever to do with the calm discharge of a reasonable man’s
obligations.”
“What, you’ve been quite calm and happy when you’ve been doing what
you call rebuke?” said she, looking up at me. “Oh, Baron.” And she shook
her head and smiled.
“Calm, I hope and believe, but not happy. Nor did I expect to be. Duty
has nothing to do with one’s happiness.”
“No, nor with the other one’s,” said she quickly.
Of course I could have scattered her reasoning to the winds if I had
chosen to bring real logic to bear on it, but it would have taken time, she
being very unconvinceable, and I really could not be bothered.
“Let Menzies-Legh convince her,” thought I, making myself ready for the
walk back in the rain, aware that I had quite enough to do convincing my
own wife.
“Try praising,” said Mrs. Menzies-Legh.
Not seeing the point, I buttoned in silence.
“Praising and encouraging. You’d be astonished at the results.”
 In silence, for I would not be at the trouble of asking what it was I was to
praise and encourage, I turned up my collar and fastened the little strap
across the front. She, seeing I had no further intention of talking, began to
get ready too for the plunge out into the rain.
“You’re not angry, Baron dear?” she asked, leaning across and looking
into as much of my face as appeared above the collar.
This mode of addressing me was one that I had never in any way
encouraged, but no amount of stiffening at its use discouraged it. In justice, I
must remind you who have met her that her voice is not disagreeable. You
will remember it is low, and so far removed from shrillness that it lends a
spurious air to everything she says of being more worth listening to than it
is. Edelgard described it fancifully, but not altogether badly, as being full of
shadows. It vibrated, not unmusically, up and down among these shadows,
and when she asked me if I were angry it took on a very fair semblance of
sympathetic concern.
I, however, knew very well that the last thing she really was was
sympathetic—all the aptitude for sympathy the Flitz family had produced
was concentrated in her gentle sister—so I was in no way hoodwinked.
“My dear lady,” I said, shaking out the folds of my cloak, “I am not a
child.”
“Sometimes I think,” said she, getting up too, “that you are not enjoying
your holiday. That it’s not what you thought it would be. That perhaps we
are not a very—not a very congenial party.”
“You are very good,” said I, with a stiffness that relegated her at once to
an immense and proper distance away, for was not this a tending toward the
confidential? And a man has to be careful.
She looked at me a moment at this, her head a little on one side,
considering me. Her want of feminine reserve—conceive Edelgard staring at
a living gentleman with the frank attention one brings to bear on an
inanimate object—struck me afresh. She seemed absolutely without a
vestige of that consciousness of sex, of those arrière-pensées (as our
conquered but still intelligent neighbours say) very properly called female
modesty. A well brought up German lady soon casts down her eyes when
facing a gentleman. She at once recollects that she is a woman and he is a
man, and continues to recollect it during the whole time they are together. I
am sure in the days when Mrs. Menzies-Legh was yet a Flitz she did so, but
England had blunted if not completely destroyed those finer Prussian
feelings, and there she stood considering me with what I can only call a
perfectly sexless detachment. What, I wondered, was she going to say that
would annoy me at the end of it? But she said nothing; she just gave her
head a little shake, turned suddenly, and walked away.
Well, I was not going to walk too—at least, not with her. The ruins were
not my property, and she was not my guest, so I felt quite justified in letting
her go alone. Chivalry, too, has its limits, and one does not care to waste any
of one’s stock of it. No man can be more chivalrous than I if provided with a
proper object, but I do not consider that objects are proper once they have
reached an age to be able to take care of themselves, neither are they so if
Nature has encrusted them in an armour of unattractiveness; in this latter
case Nature herself may be said to be chivalrous to them, and they can safely
be left to her protection.
I therefore followed at my leisure in Mrs. Menzies-Legh’s wake, desiring
to return to the camp, but not desiring to do it with her. I thought I would
search for Frau von Eckthum and she and I would walk back happily
together; and, passing under the arch leading into what had been the
banqueting hall, I immediately found the object of my search beneath an
umbrella which was being held over her head by Jellaby.
When I was a child, and still in charge of my mother, she, doing her best
by me, used to say, “Otto, put yourself in his place,” if my judgments
chanced to be ill-considered or headlong.
I did so; it became a habit; and in consequence I arrived at conclusions I
would probably not otherwise have arrived at. So now, coming across my
gentle friend beneath Jellaby’s umbrella, I mechanically carried out my
mother’s injunction. At once I began to imagine what my feelings would be
in her place. How, I rapidly asked myself, would I enjoy such close
proximity to the boring Socialist, to the common man of the people if I were
a lady of exceptionally refined moral and physical texture, the fine flower
and latest blossom of an ancient, aristocratic, Conservative, and right-
thinking family? Why, it would be torture; and so was this that I had
providentially chanced upon torture.
“My dear friend,” I cried, darting forward, “what are you doing here in
the wet and darkness unprotected? Permit me to offer you my arm and
conduct you to your sister, who is, I believe, preparing to return to camp.
Allow me——”
 And before Jellaby could frame a sentence I had drawn her hand through
my arm and was leading her carefully away.
He, I regret to say, quite unable (owing to his thick skin) to see when his
presence was not desired, came too, making clumsy attempts to hold his
umbrella over her and chiefly succeeding, awkward as he is, in jerking the
rain off its tips down my neck.
Well, I could not be rude to him before a lady and roundly tell him to take
himself off, but I do not think he enjoyed his walk. To begin with I suddenly
remembered that no members of our party, except Edelgard and myself,
possessed umbrellas, so that I was able to say with the mildness that is
sometimes so telling: “Jellaby, what umbrella is this?”
“The Baroness kindly lent it to me,” he replied.
“Oh, indeed. Community of goods, eh? And what is she doing herself
without one, may I inquire?”
“I took her home. She said she had some sewing to do. I think it was to
mend a garment of yours.”
“Very likely. Then, since it is my wife’s umbrella, and therefore mine, as
you will hardly deny, for if two persons become by the marriage law one
flesh they must equally become one everything else, and therefore also one
umbrella, may I request you instead of inserting it so persistently between
my collar and my neck to hand it over to me, and allow its lawful owner to
hold it for this lady?”
And I took it from him, and looked down at Frau von Eckthum and
laughed, for I knew she would be amused at Jellaby’s being treated as he
ought to be.
She, of my own nation and class, must often have been, I think,
scandalized at the way the English members of the party behaved to him,
absolutely as though he were one of themselves. Her fastidiousness must
often and often have been wounded by Jellaby’s appearance and manner of
speech, by his flannel collar, his untidy clothes, the wisp of hair forever
being brushed aside from his forehead only forever to fall across it again, his
slender, almost feminine frame, his round face, and the ridiculous whiteness
of his skin. Really, the only way to treat this person was as a kind of joke;
not to take him seriously, not to allow oneself to be, as one so often was on
the verge of being, angry with him. So I gave the hand resting on my arm a
slight pressure expressive of mutual understanding, and looked down at her
and laughed.
The dear lady was not, however, invariably quick of comprehension. As a
rule, yes; but once or twice she gave the last touch to her femininity by being
divinely stupid, and on this occasion, whether it was because her little feet
were wet and therefore cold, or she was not attending to the conversation, or
she had had such a dose of Jellaby that her brain refused any new
impression, she responded neither to my look nor to my laugh. Her eyes
were fixed on the ground, and the delicate and serious outline of her nose
was all that I was permitted to see.
Respecting her mood, as a tactful man naturally would, I did not again
directly appeal to her, but laid myself out to amuse her on the way up the hill
by talking to Jellaby in a strain of mock solemnity and endeavouring to draw
him out for her entertainment. Unfortunately he resisted my well-meant
efforts, and was more taciturn than I had yet seen him. He hardly spoke, and
she, I fear, was very tired, for only once did she say Oh. So that the
conversation ended by being a disquisition on Socialism held solely by
myself, listened to by Frau von Eckthum with absorbed and silent interest,
and by Jellaby with, I am sure, the greatest rage. Anyhow, I made some very
good points, and he did not venture a single protest. Probably his fallacious
theories had never had such a thorough pulling to pieces before, for there
were two miles to go up hill and I made the pace as slow as possible. My
hearers must also bear in mind that I exclusively employed that most deadly
weapon for withering purposes, the double-barrelled syringe of irony and
wit. Nothing can stand against the poison pumped out of these two, and I
could afford to bid Jellaby the cheeriest good night as I helped the tender
lady up the steps of her caravan.
He, it is amusing to relate, barely answered. But the moment he had gone
Frau von Eckthum found her tongue again, for on my telling her as she was
about to disappear through her doorway how greatly I had enjoyed being
able to be of some slight service to her, she paused with her hand on the
curtain and looking down at me, said: “What service?”
“Rescuing you from Jellaby,” said I.
“Oh,” said she; and drew back the curtain and went in.
 CHAPTER XVI

T HERE is a place about six hours’ march from Bodiam called Frogs’ Hole
Farm, a deserted house lying low among hop-fields, a dank spot in a
hollow with the ground rising abruptly round it on every side, a place of
perpetual shade and astonishing solitude.
To this, led by the wayward Fate that had guided our vague movements
from the beginning, we steadily journeyed during the whole of the next day.
We were not, of course, aware of it—one never is, as no doubt my hearers
have noticed too—but that that was the ultimate object of every one of our
painful steps during an exceptionally long march, and that our little
arguments at crossroads and hesitations as to which we would take were
only the triflings of Fate, contemptuously willing to let us think we were
choosing, dawned upon us at four o’clock exactly, when we lumbered in
single file along a cart track at the edge of a hop-field and emerged one by
one into the back yard of Frogs’ Hole Farm.
The house stood (and very likely still does) on the other side of a
dilapidated fence, in a square of rank garden. A line of shabby firs with
many branches missing ran along the north side of it; a pond, green with
slime, occupied the middle of what was once its lawn; and the last tenant had
left in such an apparent hurry that he had not cleared up his packing
materials, and the path to the front door was still littered with the straw and
newspapers of his departure.
The house was square with many windows, so that in whatever corner we
camped we were subject to the glassy and empty stare of two rows of them.
Though it was only four o’clock when we arrived the sun was already
hidden behind the big trees that crowned the hill to the west, and the place
seemed to have settled down for the night. Ghostly? Very ghostly, my
friends; but then even a villa of the reddest and newest type if it is not lived
in is ghostly in the shiver of twilight; at least, that is what I heard Mrs.
Menzies-Legh say to Edelgard, who was standing near the broken fence
surveying the forlorn residence with obvious misgiving.
We had asked no one’s permission to camp there, not deeming it
necessary when we heard from a labourer on the turnpike road that down an
obscure lane and through a hop-field we would find all we required. Space
there was certainly of every kind: empty sheds, empty barns, empty oast-
houses, and, if we had chosen to open one of the rickety windows, an empty
house. Space there was in plenty; but an inhabited farm with milk and butter
in it would have been more convenient. Besides, there did undoubtedly lie—
as Mrs. Menzies-Legh said—a sort of shiver over the place, an ominously
complete silence and motionlessness of leaf and bough, and nowhere round
could I see either a roof or a chimney, no, not so much as a thread of smoke
issuing upward from between the hills to show me that we were not alone.
Well, I am not one to mind much if leaves do not move and a place is
silent. A man does not regard these matters in the way ladies do, but I must
say even I—and my friends will be able to measure from that the
uncanniness of our surroundings—even I remembered with a certain regret
that Lord Sigismund’s very savage and very watchful dog had gone with his
master and was therefore no longer with us. Nor had we even Jellaby’s,
which, inferior as it was, was yet a dog, no doubt with some amount of
practice in barking, for it was still at the veterinary surgeon’s, a gentleman
by now left far behind folded among the embosoming hills.
My hearers must be indulgent if my style from time to time is tinged with
poetic expressions such as this about the veterinary surgeon and the hills, for
they must not forget that the party I was with could hardly open any of its
mouths without using words plain men like myself do not as a rule even
recollect. It exuded poetry. Poetry rolled off it as naturally and as
continuously as water off a duck’s back. Mrs. Menzies-Legh was an especial
offender in this respect, but I have heard her gloomy husband, and Jellaby
too, run her very close. After a week of it I found myself rather inclined also
to talk of things like embosoming hills, and writing now about the caravan
tour I cannot always avoid falling into a strain so intimately, in my memory,
associated with it. They were a strange set of human beings gathered
together beneath those temporary and inadequate roofs. I hope my hearers
see them.
Our march that day had been more silent than usual, for the party was
greatly subject, as I was gradually discovering, to ups and downs in its
spirits, and I suppose the dreary influence of Bodiam together with the
defection of Lord Sigismund lay heavily upon them, for that day was
undoubtedly a day of downs. The weather was autumnal. It did not rain, but
sky and earth were equally leaden, and I only saw very occasional gleams of
sunshine reflected in the puddles on which my eyes were necessarily fixed if
I would successfully avoid them. At a place called Brede, a bleak hamlet
exposed on the top of a hill, we were to have met Lord Sigismund but
instead there was only an emissary from him with a letter for Mrs. Menzies-
Legh, which she read in silence, handed to her husband in silence, waited
while he read it in silence, and then without any comment gave the signal to
resume the march. How differently Germans would have behaved I need not
tell you, for news is a thing no German will omit to share with his
neighbours, discussing it thoroughly, lang und breit, from every possible and
impossible point of view, which is, I maintain, the human way, and the other
way is inhuman.
“Is not Lord Sigismund coming to-day?” I asked Mrs. Menzies-Legh the
first moment she came within earshot.
“I’m afraid not,” said she.
“To-morrow?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“What, not again at all?” I exclaimed, for this was indeed bad news.
“I’m afraid not.”
And, contrary to her practice she dropped behind.
“Why is not Lord Sigismund coming back?” I shouted to Menzies-Legh,
whose caravan was following mine, mine as usual being in the middle; and I
walked on backward through all the puddles so as to face him, being unable
to leave my horse.
“Eh?” said he.
How like an ill-conditioned carter he looked, trudging gloomily along, his
coat off, his battered hat pushed back from his sullen forehead! Another
week, I thought, and he would be perfectly indistinguishable from the worst
example of a real one.
“Why is not Lord Sigismund coming back?” I repeated, my hands up to
my mouth in order to carry my question right up to his heavy ears.
“He’s prevented.”
“Prevented?”
“Eh?”
“Prevented by what?”
“Eh?”
This was wilfulness: it must have been.