32. Darcy

CHAPTER 32

DARCY

"Your hair!" Pippa lights up when I take my seat before the game the next evening. She grins ear to ear with wide eyes, wearing a Storm jersey, and I feel my face go pink.

"Do you like it?" I reach up to touch a pale-lavender lock, the intended color. Layla, the hairstylist, fixed my hair while I worked from home this morning, and she used a blow dry balm that smells incredible and makes my hair super soft.

Pippa nods with enthusiasm. " Love it. It's so you."

My heart squeezes with happiness. "I love it, too." I grin at Hazel, who's on the other side of her, wearing her own Storm jersey. "Hey, Hazel."

"Hello, gorgeous." She winks. "The purple is very you. Looks great with your eye color."

"Thanks, you two."

Fuck Kit for telling me it wouldn't look good. I look amazing with purple hair.

"And you got a jersey!" Pippa adds, beaming.

My blush deepens as I nod. "Yep. Hayden got it for me."

"Did he?" Hazel smiles like she knows something I don't. "That's nice of him. "

My shoulders lift in a shrug. "Yep. That's just him, though, always buying gifts for people."

Like the sex toy he bought me that I've been thinking about all day.

"Let's take a photo in our jerseys," Pippa says, pulling out her phone. "We look cute."

I lean in and smile as Pippa snaps the picture. A moment later, the arena lights dim, the fans start to cheer, and the announcer calls players' names as they hit the ice.

"I'm so glad you're joining us for games," Pippa says in my ear over the noise of the arena.

I give her a shy smile. "Me, too."

" Number forty-two, Hayden Owens !" the announcer calls, and I clap and cheer.

Hayden skates past and our eyes lock. His gaze goes from my jersey to my hair before he winks, and my heart skips a beat.

When he scores a goal in the second period, I jump to my feet, whooping and cheering. Rory and Alexei skate over to him to celebrate, but he grins through the glass at me.

My good luck charm , he mouths, pointing at me.

After the game, Hayden enters the box reserved for players' friends and family, and his eyes find me immediately.

"Hey." His gaze flicks over my hair. "You look beautiful." He shakes his head. "Your hair looks beautiful," he says, correcting himself.

"You didn't even comment on my eyebrows."

His mouth twitches into a smile. Layla fixed them, and they're back to their normal color, tinted a few shades darker than my pale blond. "I liked the purple."

" No ." I swat at him .

His responding playful grin is so disarming.

"No one liked the purple. I don't know what I was thinking."

"Nice jersey." He tilts his chin at me. "Whoever got that for you must be a really great person." He gives me a flirty smile. "Handsome, too."

I laugh, rolling my eyes. "Yes, and very modest."

The flirtiness fades from his grin, leaving only warmth and appreciation. "I liked seeing you in it tonight."

My heart does a funny dip, and I play with the hem of the sleeves. "I liked wearing it."

Hayden deserves to have someone out there rooting for him. He deserves to have the same thing Rory and Jamie have, even if he isn't looking for a partner or commitment.

His comment on Valentine's Day about a relationship not looking so bad catches in my mind, followed by the flash of disappointment in his eyes when I urged him away from it.

The gifts, the parties, the dates. He'd make a great boyfriend, if he wanted that.

"Let's grab drinks with everyone," he suggests, eyes moving over the lines of my jersey. My gaze drops to his casual navy bomber jacket and the image on his t-shirt beneath it.

"Wait." I frown and reach for his jacket zipper, pulling it down slightly before a mortified noise slips out of me and I clap my hand over my mouth. "You're not wearing that."

He puts on a confused expression, but his eyes glitter, and the corners of his mouth tug up. "What do you mean?"

I open the sides of his jacket and stare at his t-shirt. An image of me with purple hair and purple eyebrows stares back. My lips are parted and my eyes are wide as I reach out to stop him from taking the photo.

The photo he snapped last night .

"Hayden!" My voice is strangled. "Where did you get this?"

"Oh, this?" He looks down at his t-shirt like he just realized he's wearing a freaking photo of me on his chest. "Huh. How'd that photo get on there?"

I dissolve into laughter as my hands go to the hem of his shirt and I start to pull it off. "Take it off. Right now."

"Whoa, Darcy," he teases, grabbing my wrists and grinning ear to ear. "At least wait until we get home to undress me."

Sex toy , my brain whispers to me. Hayden's huge boner . The groan he made from the other side of the wall the other night.

"You—are"—I'm trying to pull the shirt off, but he's laughably strong compared to me—"wearing a stupid picture of my face!"

"Oh, did I not say?" His voice is so innocent, but those blue eyes sparkle like gemstones. "I got you one, too." He pulls out his phone to show me the email confirmation of the other t-shirt he rush-ordered, time stamped last night. "It's at home. Same day shipping."

I stare at the picture with my mouth pressed into a flat line as a delirious, bubbling pressure rises up my throat. "This is a picture from that charity calendar last year."

He beams. "You remember."

Of course I remember. Good lord. A charity put together a calendar of the hottest guys in professional hockey, raising money for LGBTQIA+ youth, and Hayden was January. Kit laughed his ass off at the shirtless flexing photo of his best friend.

I always felt weird that the entire world got to see this much of his body, not to mention the flirtatious, friendly smirk on his face.

That flirty smirk is supposed to be just for me.

"You put your own picture on a t-shirt for me?" I raise my eyebrows at him. "Wow. Just wow." That fizzy, delighted pressure threatens to escape, and my face aches from holding back the smile.

From the way he grins down at me expectantly, he knows it. "You can laugh."

"I'm not laughing."

"You look like you want to."

"I don't. And if I did laugh, it would only encourage you."

"Well, I'm sorry you hate my body so much." He glances around the room. "We should get going to the bar."

"Hayden." I'm trying not to smile and failing. "Change. Now."

He gives me a pleading look. "I really want to wear my new shirt." His eyes soften, and he gives me that innocent, sad look, like Pippa and Jamie's dog, Daisy, when she wants a treat. "Please, Darce." He leans down and gives me a hug, jostling me. He's big and warm and he smells good, and my resolve melts like butter in a hot pan. "I want to wear my new t-shirt."

He's actually touching me without running to his bedroom, dry-heaving in disgust. So that's a step forward.

"Fine," I sigh. "But you're wearing the jacket zipped up."

He grins and winks down at me. "We'll see."