“Are you really that stuck on yourself?” She groaned, slipping the sweatshirt over her head.
It was still warm, and smelled of him. It was just to help fight off the chill of the wind, she promised herself, but she was already inhaling his scent again before she even finished her thought.
“Confidence is everything.” He grinned over at her.
She rolled her eyes dramatically, but couldn’t help but laugh. It was in that moment she first forgot about the looming uncertainty of her future, even if it was only for a moment, and it made her heart feel a little lighter.
Feel-better eggs apparently worked.
As they walked down the street, their easy banter continuing, she wasn’t ready to admit that maybe it wasn’t the eggs that made her feel better.
Chapter 7
LEILA’S GAME
The rink was chilly and musty, a familiarity Leila had grown to love. It was either learn to love it, or spend her entire childhood in misery. She’d seen every ice-covered piece of property in the western hemisphere over the years. A revolving door of teammates who all looked the same. Nameless faces that changed every season. Austin skyrocketed through the ranks so fast she stopped trying to remember the name of the team, let alone his friends.
Then, freshman year of college, it all changed. She spent the entire morning studying for her first mid-term, because she promised Austin she would attend his game that afternoon. She hadn’t been to any of his college games, since living five hundred miles away had been an acceptable excuse, but now that she was on campus, her brother expected his biggest fan to make an appearance.
So she had thrown on a jacket, grabbed a book off her shelf, and started across campus to the rink. It started off as any other night of hockey. She found a seat center ice, across from the home team bench, propped her feet up, and prepared to enjoy two hours of reading and random cheering, depending on if Austin was having a good night.
The team hit the ice, a blur of green helmets and cage masks. She spotted Austin and waved in her customary fashion. It wasn’t until halfway through warm-ups that a different player caught her attention.
She was reading when she heard someone frantically yelling in her direction. “Heads up!”
She put her book down just in time to see a puck clang off the metal seat in front of her, and miss her face by mere inches. “Sorry about that,” the same voice called out, though it hadn’t sounded apologetic in the least. She turned around to watch the guilty player remove his helmet.
Henrik Rylander.
She had no idea who he was at the time, only that he was breathtakingly gorgeous in that ‘make you drool like an idiot’ kind of way. It was before the tattoos and the Armani suits. He was just a bright-eyed, overgrown kid, with a smile so charismatic she immediately forgot he’d come two inches from giving her a concussion. His smile widened, and she realized too late that she was gawking instead of responding like a normal person.
“It’s okay,” she finally managed, feeling a blush flush her cheeks. “I mean—I’m fine.”
“Good.” He grinned, already skating backward toward the goal. “Maybe you should watch the game instead of your book.” He winked at her, and a lump formed in her throat.
She tried desperately hard to read her book that night, but Henrik was a constant distraction. A six-three center, he was faster than any she’d seen play, and he had three assists, two of which were to Austin, by the end of the second period. She’d been mesmerized by Henrik that night, and as she glanced around the rink at Madison Square Garden, her heart racing in her chest, she was beginning to think maybe nothing had really changed.
“Are you ready for your lecture?”
Leila turned in her seat to look at Drew, who eyed her suspiciously. They sat fifth row, straight across from the Rangers bench. She’d caved and gone to the game after Drew spent the entire evening begging and coercing her with promises of ice cream and popcorn.
Junk food was her Achilles heel. It had absolutely nothing to do with wanting to watch Henrik play. Not even a little bit.
“Which one, professor?” Leila groaned, knowing what would come next.
Drew wouldn’t be happy about the egg situation. Drew was her best friend, but better yet, he knew Henrik’s exploits better than anyone else. He would put up a fight against any kind of favorable behavior Henrik displayed toward her.
He was a milder, less volatile version of Austin. Equally as annoying when he wanted to be, though.
Drew glared at her as he set the box of popcorn between them. “The one that states emotional, vulnerable best friends of mine should not be hanging out with this best friend’s promiscuous, it’s-not-going-to-make-you-feel-any-better brother.”
She snorted, but not for the reason Drew thought. At one point she actually considered admitting to Drew that his lecture was too late, but she didn’t want to cause a disturbance in the middle of a game.
Making the highlight reel would be embarrassing.
“You act as if I don’t know Henrik at all,” she told him instead, trying to avoid eye contact. Drew was exceptionally perceptive when it came to her, especially when she was in distress, and right now, her life was absolutely catastrophic.
“Oh, I know you know him. It’s just—he has ways of making girls forget the things they know.” He shot her a knowing look that was almost accusatory.
“Really?” she asked with a smirk. “Do tell.”
Drew threw his elbow into her side, unamused.
“I’m just kidding.” She laughed, because again, she knew the answer to that all too well now. Henrik’s talents far outreached just those he displayed at the rink. A thought that continued to haunt her every time she closed her eyes.
“Well, I’m being serious. He made you eggs this morning, Leila. You actually believe he did that out of the goodness of his heart?” He turned all the way around in his seat, the neck of his oversized jersey drooping over his shoulder. She smiled back at him.
Drew was a miniature version of his brother, a little more polished and less battle worn from years of hockey. She knew her friend was trying to look out for her, and she appreciated it more than she could say.
“Let me answer that for you,” he continued gruffly. “No. I love that idiot more than anyone, but when it comes to girls, my brother doesn’t have a heart. He’s like the Tin Man.”
“Do you actually believe an egg sandwich can make me forget I hate him?” she asked, patting his hand, which lay on the armrest between them.
“It’s what’s attached to the egg sandwich that causes the memory loss. Trust me. I share those genetics. I know the power they hold.”
“Speaking of that—” she began, trying a different approach, “—you should know the walls are paper thin at your place, which means I can totally hear the game you’ve been laying down the past couple of nights.”
Drew scowled at her. “You’re changing the subject.”
“Yes.” She smiled ruefully at him. “I’m changing the subject. Now, what is his name? And when do we get to meet him?”
Drew turned back around, crossing his arms over his chest, focusing his attention on the ice. “The game is about to start.”
This time it was her turn to interrogate. “I don’t think so, buddy. You do not get to sit here and lecture me, and then turn tail and ignore me when I ask you a question. Now, what is his name?”
“The relationship is new.” He sighed, glancing over at her. “And you guys are intrusive, judgmental, and not to mention about ten different types of crazy. I’ll tell you his name at the wedding.”
“We are not crazy,” she pouted, chucking a couple pieces of popcorn at him.
“So just intrusive and judgmental, then?”