CHAPTER ELEVEN

N oah

The morning after

We're married.

I blink at the blue-and-white document in my hand.

Finn scrambles from the bed, and I avert my gaze from the blanket tied around his waist.

"Are you not wearing boxers?" I ask.

"I mean, you're not either."

My skin heats, and I clutch my sheet tighter to me. "There's probably a logical explanation."

Finn's gaze flickers to my hand. "Let me see."

His tenor voice cuts through me, and I hold out my hand meekly. Even though he plays hockey, his skin is soft. Probably something to do with moisturizer or something.

"That's my ring," he says flatly. "My class ring."

"It's on my finger."

"Yeah."

We stare at the document again.

Shit.

Did I accidentally marry Finn Carrington? Hockey star Finn Carrington? The star of my favorite YouTube channel? The nicest, kindest, most fun man I ever met?

Guilt swirls through me.

"This is my fault." I tumble onto the fancy floor.

Finn's eyes widen, and he dives beside me. The room spins, my hangover, only the second one I've had in the world, strong.

"I'm so s-sorry," I stammer. "I'm so, so, so sorry."

My heart speeds, my nerve endings jump back and forth, my world skitters.

"Dude, I proposed." Finn lays a hand over mine.

I gaze at him, wide-eyed.

Finn removes his hand, then stares ahead. "I'm sorry. Obviously, I'll fix this. We'll get a divorce."

"An annulment," I say eagerly, "since we didn't, you know..."

He glances down at me. Maybe he's thinking about how I'm not wearing boxers.

I'm thinking about how he's not wearing boxers. I think about his bare cock, covered by a layer of diamond-patterned blanket. Did I touch it? Did I hold it in my hand? Did I stroke it? Lick it? My cock twitches, and I squeeze my legs together.

Finn does not need to see me get hard. Absolutely not.

"I mean, we wouldn't have, you know, since we're straight," Finn reassures me.

"Totally," I affirm, nodding multiple times, even though I've been feeling less straight lately. I've felt untethered, finding things appealing I'm not supposed to. Like broad shoulders and flat chests and muscles that ripple over sturdy bodies. I've been feeling...off.

Maybe I've always felt that way, and never examined it. Plastering one's childhood bedroom with posters of hockey stars isn't unusual behavior. Any question about liking men...that way, would have been absurd when I had Abby at my side, on the rare occasions we made our schedules work and saw each other.

But now, I'm unsure.

My heart pounds, shoveling blood away and rearranging my organs. My insides feel slippery, like when one tries to stop suddenly on the ice and can't. I am out of control.

"Noah?" Finn asks, his eyes round.

I want to tuck myself under the outrageous heart-shaped bed and wait until these feelings subside.

"I don't remember much of last night," I confess.

"I don't either." He frowns. "I think we went into a fountain."

I blink. "Maybe that's why we took off our clothes."

Relief darts over Finn's face, and I hate the way happiness descends so readily over his face, contemplating that he never touched me. I hate that that is a cause for joy. Most of all, I hate the pang of disappointment in my body.

"Okay. That makes sense," Finn says.

"Maybe this is a fake document," I say, because, despite everything, I want to make him happy.

"Like a joke?"

He scrunches his lips together, then his eyes widen. "Maybe the team is pranking us!"

I nod, because I like the excitement in his voice, and it seems technically possible.

I mean, mightn't NHL teammates prank one another?

"Maybe we should contact the, um, wedding bureau to see if we're actually married?"

Finn snorts. "I don't think it's called that. "

He scrunches his lips, and I wonder if last night we kissed. Why did he book the honeymoon room for us? I look away because I shouldn't be staring at some guy's lips. Some guy's lips who might be my husband.

I glance at the document. It looks super official.

Finn grabs his phone, then smiles. "X is boring today. Apparently, nothing interesting is happening in the hockey world."

Finn concentrates on his phone again, then steps away. I hear him speaking to someone, hear his face pale, then nod.

"So?" The word shouldn't be hard to ask, but my voice totally wobbles.

"We're married. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

Finn still looks crushed.

"But the news isn't out," I remind him, enjoying how his face brightens.

"No one has called us," Finn says. "My agent would be all over this if he knew."

I feel a wave of relief. I don't want Finn to regret hanging out with me. He barely knows me, and I don't want to cause him a massive PR nightmare.

"Guess it's good we went to a different hotel," I say.

Finn nods. "We'll figure out how to get an annulment, and that will be that."

"Cool."

"I'll sort it out once we return to Boston. Don't worry. And at least neither of us have girlfriends who would be upset."

I snort. "That would be difficult to explain."

Finn chuckles. "How was your trip, babe?"

I laugh at his falsetto. "Super great, but I accidentally got married."

Finn's laughter rises, then he grows more serious. "It will be fine. We'll keep this secret. Gotta pinky swear though."

He stretches out his pinky, and I join with my own. I haven't pinky sworn since I was in single digits. Maybe that's why a wave of emotion rushes through me, as I link my pinky with his. Nerve endings dart, my heart patters, my skin heats.

"What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas," Finn vows.