Eva just found me.
What?I looked down at my phone again, unable to interpret Cole’s cryptic message.
“Hey, Baptiste, you gonna analyze that same play all morning or what?” Haruto’s voice carried across the library study room, earning him a glare from the student assistant.
I flipped him off without looking up from the tablet in front of me.
“Yo, Tristan.” It was Rami this time. “Think fast.”
I caught the wadded paper automatically, looking up to tell them both to fuck off.
The words died in my throat.
Eva stood at the top of the stairs, red curls turned into a halo by the fluorescent lights, every fucking gorgeous curve on display in a sweater, short skirt, and tights. God, that plaid skirt would be the death of me.
Katie whistled low. “Damn, girl.”
My kitten—not mine, not anymore—crossed the roomlike she owned it. My heart was pounding out of my chest with joy, with gratitude, with?—
“Pay attention to the play.” Her voice was soft but certain as she leaned over my shoulder. Her curls brushed my cheek as she slid her fingers across the screen to control the playback. “Here.”
The screen froze on the center, setting up the shot. Her fingers traced the pattern of players, close enough that I could feel her heat, smell her vanilla and citrus scent.
“See it?”
I saw nothing but her.
“Eight o’clock,” she murmured. “Center ice.”
Then, she was gone, leaving only the ghost of her touch and the sound of my teammates’ whooping laughter.
“Holy shit,” Rami managed between cackles. “She just?—”
“Owned your ass,” Haruto finished, grinning. “Totally owned you.”
Me
Holy shit.
Cole
Arena at 8?
Me
Center ice.
“You all can fuck right off,” I told my still-laughing teammates, but I couldn’t stop the smile tugging at my lips.
Eva wanted me back.
I hoped.
66
ALEKSANDR
Tristan