I sigh, dragging a hand through my hair. “We, uh…” I bite the inside of my cheek. WhatareMonroe and me? Friends? Acquaintances? “We skate together sometimes.”
Beck narrows his eyes, calling my bluff.
“Is that a sex euphemism?” Finn asks.
I choke on my beer.
“Oh my God,” I sputter. “No, Finn. What the fuck. We are not sleeping together. She’s—” I hesitate. I wrestle with how much of her shit is mine to share. I settle on not very much. “Going through a lot. She has to teach the figure-skating clinic in March, and I’m helping her find her…ice legs, again.”
“And how, exactly, did you become the skating buddy of an Olympic almost-darling, eight-time figure-skating Worlds and Nationals gold medalist?” Beck asks.
I scowl. “First of all, it’s weird that you know all that off the top of your head. And I, uh…I walked in on a meeting with her and Elsie. She got kind of strong-armed into the clinic. Then we both ended up at the rink one night.” I scratch the back of my neck.
They take in my story. It’s true. That part, anyway.
“No sex?” Beck asks.
I roll my eyes. “No sex.”
“Sex at some point?” Finn jumps in.
I groan. “Jesus, Finn.” He shrugs.
“Just…” JD blows out a slow breath, runs a hand through his hair, then fixes me with a look that isn’t teasing anymore. “Be careful.”
Something tightens in my chest.
“It’s pretty well-known that she kind of went off the rails after the whole broken ankle thing,” he continues, voice measured. “You’ve got enough going on without trying to balance that too.”
My hands fist in my lap. I know he means well—JD is a protector at heart, and he’s just looking out for me. But there’s a fine line between concern and judgment, and right now, he’s toeing it.
My voice comes out low, warning. “She has enough people talking shit about her. You’re not going to be one of them.”
He tilts his head, smirks, and takes a slow sip of his beer. “All right, lover boy. Loud and clear.”
A beat. Then Finn mutters under his breath, just loud enough for the room to hear, “No sex…yet.”
I grip my bottle so hard, it might shatter. I don’t get to go there with her, so there is no use even discussing it.
“If I’m having a hard time,” I start, and Callum snickers.
“I’ll bet you are,” Tyler mutters into his almost-empty beer. I shoot him a warning look that he ignores completely.
I continue, my voice flat, “If you think I’m having a hard time, she just…she has it worse, okay?”
Beck nods, setting his bottle on the table. For all his teasing, he knows when I’m serious. The other guys follow suit.
“Got it, Rhodes,” JD concedes, and I know he means it.
Callum swigs the last of his beer and says, “Still think you two are gonna end up banging, though. All that moody tension between you is going to have to go somewhere.”
I chuck my empty bottle at him and tell everyone to get the hell out of my house.
Their laughter follows them all the way out to my driveaway.
* * * *
I got the text from Coach a few hours before our practice on Friday.