Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
I shake my head. “My mom said the same thing. That’s the worst idea ever.”
“And why is that?” The doors open, and we step out.
“Because there’s a high chance I’ll ruin everything. After everything he’s been through, Hayes is skittish.” What I don’t add is that if he does ever get into a serious relationship again, I doubt it will be with a cocky hockey player whose talent is making his pecs jump. I would probably drive him crazy in the long term. Hayes will end up with someone more like him and, wow…I had no idea I even felt that way. I’ve never lacked confidence, but clearly, I’m feeling some things.
“But there’s also a chance you won’t ruin things. There’s a chance he feels the same.”
My pulse jumps at that thought, but the truth is, even if Hayes did feel the same, I’m not sure he would ever want to be with me for real because of the whole public persona thing. It would be a big deal even if Hayes wasn’t who he is, but it will be a huge one because he is. I imagine he’s had enough of being in the public eye to last a lifetime.
“I just…don’t want to mess anything up right now,” I say to buy myself some time. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’ll realize I’m not crushing on Hayes at all.
“It’s okay to want a relationship with someone, Ry.” He squeezes my arm, and then says, “Now go talk to your guy,” before turning around and heading straight for the elevator again.
I really am lucky to have Mads in my life.
A few minutes later, I’m lying in the hotel bed in my underwear and video calling Hayes. He’s home, leaning against the familiar white headboard, as he does in most of our chats.
“How was your night with your friends?” I ask.
“Shut up. We’re totally not talking about me first. Did you see that shot you made in the second period?” His cheeks are flushed with excitement. “Actually, dumb question. Of course you saw it; you’re the one who did it. Well, I guess since you were doing it, you didn’t see it, per se, unless you watched highlights, which we both know you did.”
“The whole bus ride back to the hotel.”
“I knew it!” He claps his hands, and it strikes me how we’ve really gotten to know each other. “Volkov’s power play in the third was nice too. He scores a lot.”
He’s so cute. Such an adorable hockey fan now. I love when we talk about the game, that I can tell him all about it. “He’s supposed to score a lot. He’s our center. And did you catch my assist? I think we should get back to talking about me now.”
Hayes laughs, which honestly has become one of my favorite sounds. “You played a good game, though I do think you were slightly rough.”
I smirk. “Baby…roughness is part of the game, but look at you, I love how into hockey you are now.”
He rolls his eyes. “Only because I’m your good-luck charm, so I have to make sure I’m doing my job.”
“Liar.” I smirk, lying down more on the bed and propping the phone against a pillow so it’s angled at my face.
“Maybe a little,” he admits, and then his eyes dart away. “Doesn’t Mads ever get tired of going into someone else’s room or heading downstairs so we can talk every road trip?”
“He’s actually out with the team tonight. They went for drinks.”
Hayes returns his gaze to me. “You could have gone! You didn’t have to stay in your room to talk to me…but then I guess the whole point of this is our sex, so I’m sure that’s why you did it.”
But it’s really not. “I didn’t want to go out. Tell me how things went.”
“Donovan’s best friend, Eric, was there. I’m fairly certain they’re secret boyfriends, or maybe they’re just having no-strings-attached sex like us, but there’s something there.”
And there’s something here for me too—strings, damn it! Why do I have strings? “He nice?”
“Yeah, I like him. I think you would too. He loves hockey.”
“When do I get to meet him?” I tease.
For a split second, it looks like Hayes’s lips straighten into a firm line. Is that a frown? Is he jealous? But then he dashes all my hopes when he says, “That wouldn’t work because they can’t know we’re…this.”
The dull ache in my chest grows. “Oh yeah. I forgot about that.”
“Hey, are you okay?”
I wave off his concern. “I’m good, H. What else happened?”
“I embarrassed myself by screaming and jumping when you scored. I wasn’t going to tell you that, but you’re good at getting your way with me.”
I chuckle. “I like the sound of that, but I didn’t even do anything.”
He just shrugs as if to say I don’t have to do anything, and maybe, just maybe, there’s a part of Hayes that likes making me feel good the way I do him.