Boyfriend Material (Hawthorne University, #2)(40)

“Don’t be scared.”

“I’m not,” she mutters defensively.

I chuckle. “You’re a chicken.”

She opens the truck door. “You’re trying to goad me.”

“And it’s working.”

She smirks as we get out and head to the front door.

I use my captain’s key to open the place up. Turning on all the lights, I lead her through the men’s locker room, grab my skates, and head out to the home bench.

“You can put your stuff there.” I lace up my skates.

She sets her things down, takes out the camera, and pulls out the lens. “When did you start skating?”

“I was born on skates. We have a lake on our property. Kurt used to take me out there. He was a better skater than I’ll ever be.”

Better at everything, actually. He never loved hockey, though. Academics was his ticket.

She gives me a soft look. “That sounds like a good memory to hang on to.”

I grew up jealous of the attention my brother got, but most of the time I adored him. Memories of him teaching me to skate is one of those. “Yeah.”

We reach the rink, and I back out slowly.

She watches me, her eyes big as saucers. “You’re good.”

I laugh. “This is nothing. You should see me with a stick and a puck.”

She leans over the wall and aims her camera at me.

“Which reminds me, when are you coming to a game?”

“Haven’t considered it.”

My hand goes to my heart. “Vicious girl.”

She focuses the camera, a small smile on her lips.

I skate in a figure eight, drawing it out nice and slow. I haven’t done this, skating for fun, in a while. It feels good. “If you come to a game, you might enjoy it.”

“I don’t know the rules.”

“I can teach you the rules.” I motion her forward. “Come on out here.”

She stares at me, mouth slightly open. “No.”

“Why?”

“I don’t have skates.”

“Don’t need skates.”

She looks around helplessly. “My seven-year-old self is seriously panicking right now. I’ll fall.”

“No, you won’t. I’ll keep you up.” I open the door and beckon to her. She puts her camera down on the bench, and I take her hand and lead her out onto the ice.

Her feet slip out from under her a few times, but it doesn’t matter because I keep my arm around her waist. As I walk her out to the center line, she clings close to me, and I can’t say I mind.

“I’ve got you. See, that’s not so bad, is it?”

“I guess it’s okay.”

We’re nearly at the center and I slowly start to let her go.

“No,” she cries, then lets out a sudden yelp as her feet slip out from under her.

I catch her. “Relax. We’re in the neutral zone. Nothing bad happens here.”

“Stop being funny and don’t let me go again, Eric.”

I chuckle but do as she says, holding onto her as I point down the ice. “This here, between the two blue lines, is the neutral zone. The red line is center ice. Every period, we start here with a face off.”

“A face off?”

“Yep. It’s just me, or Boone, or Reece . . . but usually Reece, because he’s the best at them. The ref drops the puck and then it’s game on. We try to get the puck in the opposing goal.”

She studies the ice with concentration. It’s fucking adorable. “What are the blue lines for?”

“Well . . . you have to be in the opposing team’s zone, meaning past that blue line, in order to take a shot.”

She squints down the ice, then her eyes skip to mine. “How? You’ve got to be really good to do that while skating. I can’t even stand.”

I shrug, feeling a flash of smug male pride because of the way she’s looking at me. “It’s kind of second-nature to me.”

She shakes her head. “I still don’t get how anyone—”

“I’ll show you. Come to a game. Saturday. It’s a big one. The Thunder are tied with us for first in our division.”

“I’ll think about it. I’m down to work, but I could ask one of the other girls to take my spot.”

I begin to pull away and she lets out a chirpy little cry.

“Sorry, I was considering letting you drift on the ice until you agree, but I can’t do it. You’re too damn cute.” I tug her back to me as our eyes cling.

Sparks heat under my skin.

Her tongue darts out as she wets her lips, and I track her movements.

Kiss her, my head says, but . . .

Her breath quickens.

Something plinks overhead, one of the lights going out.

She seems to shake herself. “Um, I need some action shots of you. Can you take me back to the wall?”

“Sure.”

The rest of the time proceeds as normal. I skate, getting my exercise in as she works her magic.

After half an hour, I get back to the bench, and she’s checking her phone.

“You have enough for your portfolio?” I ask.

She looks up. “Portfolio?”

“I saw a job listing in the student center for a job in town at the paper. I’ll text it to you.”