CHAPTER FOURTEEN

L uke

I glide onto the ice, ignoring the New Hampshire audience’s half-hearted smattering of applause. They’re not here for us. We’re the enemy.

My gaze zeroes to the stands.

Sebastian sits beside Oskar. He’s traded his tailored suit for an untailored blue Blizzards jersey.

Sebastian is smiling, and I smile back.

His wide-set eyes bounce around the arena, absorbing all the bright lights and the strangeness of the game. Pop music blares as we take our positions, and the crowd applauds as each person’s name is announced.

The pink strobes flicker over his face, and I notice how sculpted his cheekbones and jaw are, like a misplaced Michelangelo.

If Michelangelo’s sculptures wore Blizzards jerseys.

I can’t make out the number from here.

It better be mine.

I pull my gaze to the rest of the arena.

Dmitri slides into place beside me. “Oskar is entertaining your TV man.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I told them not to date.”

“What?”

Dmitri frowns in the direction of Oskar and Sebastian. “Do you think they’ll listen?”

“Why would they....?” I tighten my grip on my hockey stick. “They like each other?”

Dmitri shrugs. “Everyone likes Oskar.”

My forehead furrows. I’m not completely sure Oskar has dated anyone before. Mostly he sends longing glances at Dmitri. But that probably means he’s single. And I think Sebastian is too? He hasn’t mentioned a significant other. But why wouldn’t someone want to date Sebastian? I mean, if someone were a gay man. Or bisexual. Or pansexual.

Sebastian probably has loads of good-looking, charming Californian men lining up to date him. They probably all want to tuck him into their beds. Maybe that’s why he’s grumpy sometimes. Maybe he misses his fun-filled life. Maybe he hates that he has to spend his time with me and talk about hockey and ask me questions about girls.

Something twists in my stomach.

Some local celebrity is singing the national anthem, but my gaze turns to Oskar and Sebastian again. They seem to be enjoying themselves. And Dmitri might notice things about Oskar.

The whistle screeches, and I snap my attention back to the ice.

The crowd thunders as the puck drops, but my focus slips. I glance at the stands one last time. Oskar leans in close to say something to Sebastian, and my stomach twists, as if Evan is currently pummeling my stomach, and not the puck, with his stick.

My heart races, and not out of anxiety that a game is going to start, and we have another chance to win, and also another chance to lose.

No, the only thing going through my mind now is Sebastian.