Page 16 of Rookie Moves

And how could we possibly make this work without getting caught?

For the next few days, it’s all I can think about. Between going to classes, studying, and practice, Colby is a permanent fixture in my consciousness. Playing on my mind all through the night. Tossing around my brain like a hot potato while I toss and turn in the sheets.

He’s also still avoiding me, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.

I head down toward the video room, stopping by the players’ lounge to make a smoothie and grab whatever food is going today. I eat most of it before I reach the open door, where a few of my teammates are already inside, chatting amongst themselves. Anton, a sophomore d-man, is already asleep in the back row. His head is tipped back with his mouth hanging open while Nelson carefully stacks paper cups on his forehead, trying not to wake him.

I snort under my breath.

I’m going to miss this when I head back to Arizona in the summer. I can’t imagine many of the people at my dad’s office fall asleep on the job or see how many cups they can stack.

Taking my usual seat in the middle row next to Liam, I place my smoothie cup in the holder and scan the room for Colby. He isn’t here yet, and the realization sits heavy in my gut. He’s chronically on time for everything, but the last few days, he’s been one of the last to arrive.

Because of you.

Fuck’s sake. I need to give him an answer. Put both of us out of this weird limbo we’ve been dropped into.

Liam begins to tell me about how he’s convinced one of his professors is trying to purposefully fail him when the hairs on the back of my neck prickle in awareness.

Swinging my attention toward to the door, I let out a relieved breath as Colby walks in. His hazel gaze bounces around the room until it lands on me, and I don’t miss the way the tips of his ears flush.

Please don’t ignore me, I inwardly beg.

I offer a small smile, and when he returns it, I have to stop myself from punching the air.

Okay. This is a good start. Maybe I haven’t fucked this up after all.

Coach Vaughn walks in, and the room immediately falls silent. He’s got this commanding presence to him, like he’ll rip you apart with a single glare, but we respect the hell out of him. He’s a good coach. He has a lot of time for us, and he’s quick to sing our praises as well as provide constructive feedback.

What would he think if he knew two of his players were thinking about hooking up?

He would most likely lose his shit.

A cold shiver runs down my spine at the thought of the consequences it could cause.

The lights dim, and footage of the teams we’ll be facing in the regionals appears on the huge TV on the wall.

But I’m not watching the screen.

No, my eyes are firmly locked on Colby seated a few rows down.

The sheer concentration on his face as he studies the gameplay with undivided attention. The dark blond hair that’s curling at the base of his neck. The way his teeth dig into his plush bottom lip, tugging it slowly as he watches the defensive line without blinking.

I swallow back a groan.

This pull I have toward Colby isn’t anything new. It’s been there since day one, but now it’s like he’s all I can see. It’s been amplified. There’s a spotlight on him that’s different to how the rest of the world sees him.

I have a one-track focus on him, and I’m unsure how to snap out of it.

Do I want to?

I’m not sure I want to answer that either.

Before I know it, the overhead lights flicker back on, and I blink, disorientated. I didn’t pay attention to a single thing during that video session, lost in a Colby-induced haze I would happily return to, even though me spacing out is going to cost me when we head into the tournament in just a few days.

“Okay, boys, suit up. Be out on the ice in fifteen,” Coach instructs, and the room is a bustle of movement as it begins to clear.

But I don’t move. I wait, slowly sipping on my smoothie like it’s the last drink I’ll have on Earth.