Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“You are my favorite,” I told him.
He groaned quietly, smacking one of my hands. “Don’t say things like that out here. I’ll get lost in your eyes and fall on my ass.”
“You should fall on your ass,” I said. “Learning to fall is one of the most important things to do. Don’t fear it.”
Slowly, over the next few minutes, I led him around a couple of laps of the rink. Finally, after he’d gotten the hang of it, I brought my hands away from his and let him skate independently for the first time. He was a little nervous in his movements at first, but I stayed right by his side, ready to spot him. I taught him to avoid stepping with his heels, then guided him around the corners, helping him bank and turn without running straight into the walls.
“That’s my fuckin’ cowboy, right there,” I said, watching him lean into a turn for the first time, clearing the wall easily.
“I’ll be good enough for the Talons anytime now,” he said.
I snorted. “There you go, Mason. I’m sure you can replace me as center within just a couple days, right?”
We both laughed so much that Mason forgot to pay attention to his skates, and soon enough, he rammed into another wall.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I’m learning to hit the walls more gently, at least.”
We skated laps around the rink, slow and easy, for the next twenty minutes or so. More and more people started to show up for the free skate, but now that Mason had a basic hang of how to move, he wasn’t too intimidated by the teenagers whizzing past.
“So I know how to go forward on the ice now,” he said to me a while later. “Now you have to teach me to fight like a hockey player.”
I hummed. “Now, that’s a skill that takes years of honing. The right comebacks, the right shoulder checks, the best death glares… well, I think you might have the death glares taken care of, personally.”
I skated up near him and put my hands on his waist. He did a quick glide over toward the exit and popped up onto the rubber just as I leaned in to kiss him. He stumbled a little, but I got off the ice and grabbed him, holding him at his waist and pulling him back up.
“Dangerous,” he said, but there was a mischievous smile on his face. “I’m going to leave you a bad review, teacher.”
I kissed his cheek. “If you leave me a bad review, I’ll just have to punish you,” I murmured.
He sat back on one of the nearby benches and I stood over him, going up between his legs. I leaned over, putting my fingers to his chin and tilting his head back for a kiss.
It was only when I stood up straight again and leaned back that his expression changed. He glanced at something behind me, his eyes going wide.
“Oh,” he said softly.
I turned to see Kane, walking up along the rows of seats, slowly making his way to us.
I stood up a little taller as I saw it was him.
The first thing I felt was relief, quickly followed by a defiant streak. Yeah, I did just kiss Mason. And you’re not going to change how I feel about him.
But if I expected to find anger in Kane’s eyes, it didn’t end up happening. I couldn’t tell what he was feeling, actually.
“Wanted to drop off the phone charger you left at the bar, Jesse,” Kane told me, his voice even. “At the frat house, Robbie mentioned you were at the rink, and… I figured I’d stop by—”
“Thank you,” I said, nodding.
He was silent for a moment, looking between me and Mason, his face revealing nothing.
“Thought you might have just been loopy, after you knocked your head the other night,” Kane said. “But is this real? The two of you?”
I looked back at Mason. He was a lot worse off than I was right now. He looked like he’d just been given a death sentence.
“It’s real,” he finally said, though, speaking up and standing up, a little wobbly, on his skates. “Jesse and I are…”
“Dating,” I said.
“Dating,” Kane repeated, looking between the two of us again.
Please, don’t fucking act like you know better than me.
“Hot Mess,” Kane said, crossing his arms in front of him like some displeased police officer. “Do you know that I used to make after-school snacks, dinner, and most breakfasts for Jesse, all throughout his elementary school years?”
Mason nodded. “Yes.”
“And that the idea of him being given the fuckboy treatment by any person under the goddamn sun makes me just about homicidal?”
“As it should,” Mason said.
“Kane, I swear to—”
“And,” he said, “that I trust Jesse’s judgment now, and I know he can make his own good decisions?”