Page 56 of Icebound

He pinches his eyes closed. “You look good, but we better head out so we’re late, but not asshole late,” he says, changing the subject with a sharp turn.

Annoyance flickers through me at his flaccid compliment. The least he could do is tell me I look nice after dragging me to this event, but I’m not going to start a fight over my clothing, so I go with his subject change. “I like being asshole late, though. The later we arrive, the less time I have to spend making small talk.”

“Yeah, same here, but not for this. It’s important. I really want to secure a sponsorship so everyone stops bringing up my retirement.”

“I know it’s important. You’ll be great.”

“Thanks,” he grunts. He doesn’t add anything else.

This is going to be a long night.

He leads us to his Range Rover and opens the door for me. As I climb inside, he picks up the hem of my dress, so it doesn’t drag on the asphalt, and it almost looks like his fingers tighten around the material for a second.

It’s at that moment that I realize I’ve never dated a gentleman, and Rhode might be the blueprint, but I’m not going to mistake it for something deeper. I refuse to be the foolish, naive college student who fantasizes about the hockey player falling for her.

I want to be someone’s exception, not their cliche.

He puts the car in drive and turns on a classical music station. I grin when I recognize the melody. “I didn’t realize other people still listened to the radio.”

“You were playing it when you first picked me up in your car.”

The admission feels like a secret, so I keep my voice to a whisper. “I didn’t know you were paying attention.”

“Like I said, it’s my job.” His grip tightens on the steering wheel as he navigates the downtown streets.

Despite the gentle tune drifting through the air, we drive in stifling silence. The closer we get to the hotel, the more suffocating it grows.

He keeps his focus on the blurring street lights until suddenly, he blurts, “Thanks for coming. I know you didn’t have to, and it means a lot. I thought you might back out, so I’m glad you didn’t, but I want to make sure you know this is only for tonight.”

It’s like he’s worried I’m going to fall madly in love with him during this car ride. “Oh, really? I thought you were driving me to our surprise engagement party right now.”

That lonesome dimple flickers on his right cheek. “Guess I ruined that surprise then.”

I give him a flat look. “Yes, Rhode. I know this is fake. You don’t need to keep reminding me. Did you change your mind about me lying? Should I look up some brain facts to prepare for small talk?”

“Of course not. No one at the event thinks you’re a neurosurgeon. I didn’t want to put you in the position of having to lie about yourself, so you don’t have to hide. You should tell them about your fellowship.”

A tightness grips my throat. More often than not, it feels like I'm putting on masks to cover fragments of myself. Relentless authenticity is difficult for anyone to achieve, but I like that Rhode doesn’t expect me to hide behind some white lie.

We pull up to the downtown hotel. He hands the car keys to the valet, along with a twenty, and I’m shocked he still carries cash, but it’s also kind of hot.

We stride through golden doors into a ballroom twinkling with chandeliers. The soft melodies of a string quartet weave through the chatter, and waiters dance around the elegant bodies, precariously balancing trays of champagne flutes.

Rhode hands me a glass. “Thanks,” I say, clutching the stem. I’ll dump this in a nearby plant later. They’re all fake, anyway. I checked.

His warm touch brands my lower back, and I pretend to take a sip, glancing around the ballroom.

Rhode’s so magnetic he doesn’t part the crowd. He absorbs their attention.

Every eye gravitates toward us, making it feel like I’m under a heat lamp. People drift closer as if tugged by some invisible pull. I take a deep breath, trying to stop my quivering heart.

Rhode looks young, thanks to all the workouts, so I’ve never thought much about our age difference, but tonight, I feel every bit the college student. The salt-and-pepper dusting his jawline makes him look distinguished, so I push my glasses up the bridge of my nose as if that will make me feel less like I’m playing dress up.

I trace a pattern around the room, counting the exits just in case I need to make a getaway.

Calm down, Nina. You’re fine. There’s not an assassin lurking in the crowd who’s going to shoot you, and even if there was, Rhode’s biceps are big enough to block a bullet.

“Hey, look at me. Are you alright, Nina?” Rhode whispers in my ear like he can feel the nerves humming beneath my skin.