Goal Lines & First Times (CU Hockey 3)

“There’s not. But I never want to hide the person I’m with. That’s not my style. So it is something I need to think about if we’re going to date properly, especially with school going back soon.”

We reach the gates, and Richie quickly buys the tickets before I can.

“I’m buying the food,” I warn him.

“Good.” He rubs his stomach. “Because that’s going to cost at least twice as much.”

I barely resist rolling my eyes. Hockey players and their appetites. Foster’s the same. Mom actually started hiding snacks for us so we wouldn’t miss out because Foster was a bottomless pit and always hungry.

The Ice Festival has expanded since I was last here. There’s still a giant skating rink, that I immediately veto before Richie gets ideas, and the food vendors wrapped around one side with a kids’ area on the other, but it’s all bigger. The ice sculptures are further down, along with carriage rides and snowman-building competitions. And everywhere we walk, twinkling lights sparkle brightly against the night sky.

I breathe in the frozen air, and a lazy smile takes over my face. I might not be able to feel my nose anymore, but this is way better than sitting awkwardly at a restaurant and trying to force conversation like how my usual first dates go.

“Hot dogs.” Richie beelines straight for the booth, and I hurry to follow. He orders two, loaded with everything, then turns to me expectantly.

It clicks.

“Let me guess, those were both for you.”

“Yeah?” His confusion is adorable, and I hold back a laugh.

“I’ll grab one, thanks. Just ketchup and mustard.”

I pay, and we eat while we walk. Richie’s are both overloaded and dripping onto his fingers, but he’s done with his before I make it through mine.

“That was fast,” I say, lobbing my wrapper at the trash, secretly relieved when it goes in.

“I’ve had plenty of practice with swallowing now.”

I choke on my spit, and Richie gives my back a light pat as he leans in.

“And you’ve had plenty of practice making that sound.”

“Fuck off.” I’ll deep-throat that bastard yet.

“Should I be concerned that hearing you choke gives me an instant boner?”

“Might be the weirdest Pavlovian response I’ve heard yet.”

“Pav-what?”

“Never mind.”

He goes to respond when a voice cuts him off.

“Seth?”

Oh no. Emma makes her way toward us, and I can’t help dragging my feet.

“Who’s that?” Richie asks.

“My ex.”

Her red hair is braided over her shoulder, and her nose has turned the same color, but she’s wearing the same wide smile she’s always given me. “Hey, it’s good to see you.”

“Yeah, how are you?”

“Really good.” Her focus slides to Richie, and I swear I see a little spark of interest in her eyes. “I’m Emma.”

“Richie.”

“Nice to meet you.” Her friendly smile turns flirty, and it occurs to me I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look at me like that. Maybe our failed relationship wasn’t all on me.

A ribbon of jealousy snakes through me. But not because of her.

I’m ready to bite her face off if she touches him.

“What are you guys up to tonight?”

“We’reonadate.” My words come out snappy and too fast, and Richie’s eyes are wide with amusement as he looks me over.

“Oh.” Understanding quickly cuts through her surprise. “Huh. I was right.”

I have to agree with Richie. People acting like know-it-alls is no fun.

He wraps his arm around me. “We are. First of many.”

I like the sound of that.

“Aww, that’s cute.” She takes a small step back from him.

“Yep,” Richie continues. “When you meet a guy like Seth, you don’t let him go.”

He has to be the least subtle person I’ve ever met, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Emma looks amused. “I better not interrupt any more, then. Enjoy your date.”

“We will.” It’s already the best one I’ve had yet.

We wander around aimlessly, compete in building snowmen, walk through the lit-up ice sculptures, and Richie even manages to drag me into the rink. Which I don’t completely hate because he’s there to hold me up. When he’s not showing off, that is.

“You’re missing the ice already, aren’t you?” I ask.

“Yep.”

He looks at home on the ice. Much like my brother. Eww, I’m realizing how much Richie and Foster are alike, and now that’s fucking creepy.

Then he skates up to me with a spark in his eyes that is nothing like how Foster looks at me, and I’m able to dismiss the fact they’re both hockey players who eat a lot. That literally describes every hockey player.

“Can we go now before I fall on my ass?” I ask.

“You mean again?”

“Do you see why I gave up hockey?”

“Whoa, you played?”

“I tried. When Foster and I were little. We both sucked, but he’s a sucker for punishment, I guess, because it only made him work harder.”

“We can go.” Richie takes my hand and leads me off the ice.