Rooming With My Ex-Mate's Hockey Star Brother

SADIE

Boreal won tonight, but I might have gotten more out of the game than they did.

I finally understand why people happily spend two hours shouting at men on skates. I had so much fun that I’m starting to resent making it all the way to senior year without attending a single game.

What was I doing with my time? Actually, I know. I’d rather think about hockey.

I’d also rather not dwell on the fact that I finally see the appeal of hockey players. After being biased against them for so long, it feels like a betrayal of my principles, but was I supposed to watch them fly across the ice looking that confident and pretend I don’t have eyes?

I can see how someone ends up wanting to be a WAG, especially with Trey making the position look so tempting.

Watching him, I could tell hockey mattered to him. He was so good at it and so completely caught up in the game that I kept looking for him whenever the players moved past our section. At some point, I stopped pretending I was only watching because I wanted Boreal to win.

Maybe I’ll tell him how incredible he was. I wore his jacket to the game and cheered until my throat hurt, so it’s not like I have any reason not to. I’ve been waiting twenty minutes for the chance, though, and Trey still hasn’t come out of the locker room.

Our collaboration got me permission to wait in the hallway. It did not make me willing to go inside and risk seeing a roomful of penises.

My phone beeps as I lean against the wall. I pull it out, hoping Sophie has finally responded.

Michael: Sophie just called. She said she was in an accident. She’ll explain later.

For a second, accident is all I can focus on. Was she hurt? She was able to call, though, and she says she’ll explain later. I hope that means she’s okay. Once that thought has somewhere to land, I can’t help wishing she’d contacted us sooner.

We planned the photos around those shirts; if everyone hadn’t brought their regular club shirts as backup, we would’ve had nothing coordinated to wear.

I begin a reply, but the words don’t feel right. Sophie was in an accident. Until I know what happened, I can’t decide how angry to be with her.

”Are you texting me? Because I’m right here.”

I look up.

Trey is coming down the hallway, and it isn’t until he gets closer that I notice his hair is still wet from the shower. Water trails down his face and drips onto his fresh jersey. My heart gives a small, stupid thump.

Why does he look this good just because his hair is wet?

Sadie, get yourself together. Men have wet hair. Close your mouth and stop drooling.

I blink, straighten, and manage to look normal by the time Trey stops in front of me. His eyes go straight to my phone.

”What?” I ask when he raises a brow.

”Were you about to text me?”

”No, I was—”

”Then who?” He puts out his hand. ”I should at least know who’s getting your attention when you’re supposed to be congratulating me.”

It takes effort not to smile. He asked a question, Sadie. That’s all. Ezra’s lack of interest in what I did with my time has clearly lowered the bar to the floor, but I don’t need to start feeling flattered because Trey noticed I was on my phone.

”I was going to—”

He snatches the phone from my hand before I can finish.

”Give that back.” I grab for it, but Trey lifts it out of reach and reads the message still open on the screen.

”Michael.” His gaze returns to mine as he hands it over. ”Is he the one with the big glasses?”

I take my phone back and lock it. ”I was about to say something nice about how you played tonight, but you’ve ruined the mood.”

”Then tell me.”

He steps closer, and I step back to give him room. Except he follows, and my back meets the wall before I realize what he’s doing. His hands land on either side of my head. For a second, all I can think about is how little space there is between us and what anyone passing through the hallway would think if they saw us like this.

”You can still say it.” His finger touches my chin, drawing my gaze back to him.

A drop falls from his wet hair onto my cheek. I blink and glance up at the curls hanging over his forehead.

”You’re dripping on me.” My hands could go straight to his chest and push him away, but they stay at my sides.

”My hair’s clean. What were you going to say?”

I shake my head, though I’m not sure whether I’m refusing or trying to get my thoughts back in order. ”You were awesome out there. You played really well.”

”Really well?” He hooks a finger beneath the collar of the jacket I’m wearing and gives it a small tug. ”How awesome?”

Every time I think I’ve seen the full extent of Trey’s ego, he finds another level.

I reach into my pocket for the small face towel I brought with me. ”You’re still getting water everywhere.”

He doesn’t move away when I lift the towel to his forehead. I wipe the drops caught near his hairline, then follow the ones that have run down the side of his face and over his neck. His Adam’s apple bobs, and the breath he lets out brushes hot against my cheek.

”You were really cool,” I admit, trying to focus on the game instead of him. ”It was fun. I didn’t know I’d enjoy it that much. Watching you play might have changed my opinion of you a little.”

I start to lower the towel, but Trey catches my hand. For a second, I think he’s going to take it from me. Instead, he guides it across the other side of his neck and down to the skin showing at the open collar of his jersey.

My lips part.

”What opinion changed?” he asks.

His forehead is almost touching mine. Footsteps pass behind him, and I know people must be looking, but I can’t make myself look back. His hand is still over mine, holding the towel against his chest. I’m having enough trouble paying attention to anything beyond the few inches between us.

”I...I guess I thought you weren’t passionate about anything,” I manage. ”And I wasn’t sure you were as hot on the ice as everyone keeps saying.”

”You weren’t sure?” His fingers tighten slightly over mine.

”I said my opinions changed.”

”A little,” he reminds me, a smirk pulling at his mouth.

”Yes. Don’t make me take it back.”

”You said I’m hot.”

”I said other people say you’re hot.” I try to pull my hand away, but he’s still holding it, and the towel has become a very poor excuse for keeping it against his chest. ”Maybe I—”

”Mercer!”

The shout makes me flinch. I glance past Trey’s shoulders to find his coach, standing a few feet away and staring at us.

I shove Trey in the chest. He steps back, and I straighten my jacket. We’re both fully dressed, and the towel is still in my hand. I haven’t done anything wrong, so why do I feel like we’ve been caught?

”Coach, you need me?” Trey asks.

”Quit flirting and get the collaboration done with the Quiz Bowl team. I need all of you out of here soon.”

”We weren’t flirting,” I say, scratching the side of my neck.

Coach starts toward the locker room, and as he passes, he points at Trey. ”Tell him that.”

My mouth opens, but nothing comes out in my defense. By the time I think of a response, the man is almost through the locker room door.

I turn to Trey instead. He has his hands in his pockets, looking amused by my lack of a comeback.

”Is he always that stern?” I ask.

”He’s not stern.”

”He just said we were flirting and looked at me like I was the one holding you against a wall.”

”Weren’t you?”

I pause. ”What?”

”Flirting with me.” Trey takes his hands out of his pockets. ”Weren’t you?”

Somehow, telling him he played well has led to a question I can’t answer without sounding strange. I fold the face towel into a smaller square, taking far more care with it than it deserves.

”Are your teammates ready?” I ask. ”We still need to shoot a video.”

”That’s a yes, then.”

I scoff. ”That’s me caring more about getting the video done than flirting with you.”

”You’re making it sound like flirting with me would be work.”

”It would be.”

”Have you ever flirted with anyone?” He steps closer, and the towel nearly slips from my fingers. ”Because you could use the practice.”

”I could?”

”I’ll let you practice on me tonight. I’ve got fans waiting outside with gifts and everything, and you’re getting the real deal for free.”

A shiver runs down my spine, but I keep my face still. This is Trey being Trey. He probably talks to girls like this all the time, and I refuse to stand here getting flustered because he’s offered me a free trial of his attention.

”I’m not one of your fangirls.” I tuck the towel into my pocket before I can drop it. ”Go get your team, or I’ll march in there myself.”

”Go ahead.” Trey slides his hands into his pockets. ”I thought you didn’t want to go in there.”

”I don’t. That’s how much I want this video done.”

He lets me glare at him for a moment. ”Fine. I heard one of your teammates is missing. Can your side still do this?”

”Yes. We’ve covered her part. Everything will work out.”

”All right.” He starts toward the locker room. ”Since you’re done flirting, I’ll get the boys.”