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“This is awkward.” “I hadn’t noticed,” I deadpan.
I’m not sure everyone gets to have that kind of love, though. Sometimes I think I’m too much to be someone’s One. Too loud, too disorganized, too extra, too messy.
“Have you ever heard of the internet meme that says, ‘In every partnership, there’s a person who stacks the dishwasher like a Scandinavian architect and a person who stacks the dishwasher like a raccoon on meth’?” She narrows her eyes. “No…” “I mean this in the nicest possible way, Ser, but you’re the meth raccoon in this scenario.”
“Question seventeen,” Seraphina murmurs. “Do you ever think about that night?” “All the fucking time.” I’m not a big believer in sugarcoating the truth. Plus, I think it’s pretty obvious. “Me too.” Her throat bobs, her warm brown eyes searching mine. “Do you regret it? I mean, it’s made things kind of complicated now.” Complicated is an understatement. Ever since she moved in, it’s been like navigating a minefield. The more time we spend together, the closer I come to doing something I shouldn’t. “No, Tink. I could never regret you.”
“Fuuuuck.” Tyler falls back on the bed, throwing an arm over his eyes. His position draws attention to the very large, very angry erection straining to break free from his black boxer briefs. Desire pulses like a heartbeat between my thighs. The temptation to finish what we started is almost too much to resist.
“Makes sense. Goalies are built different. Some people say they’re a little cr—" “Watch it, Tink.” Tyler pokes me in the ribs, and I yelp, trying to scoot out of his reach.
“For the love of hockey and all that is holy.”
“Ended your dry spell, huh?” Chase remarks from behind me. My heart leaps into my throat, and I lock my phone, whipping around to face him. “What?” Did he see my screen? He’s like, six feet away. That’s not close enough to read such small text, is it? “The scratch marks on your back?” He gestures at me like it should be obvious.
“I think you already did, dude. You can tell me if you want. Remember, you’ve got leverage on me, too. Consider it a vow of mutually assured destruction.”
“What do you think I did? I waited for him to get his pants on and then I kicked his ass. His fighting skills must’ve been rusty because it was pretty one-sided.” He laughs, but it’s bitter. “Woodbine was more worried about keeping everything under wraps, so no one pressed any charges. Guess they figured it’d be a bad look if people found out their thirty-year-old head coach was fucking undergrads, especially his star player’s nineteen-year-old girlfriend.”
“You can’t make those noises, Ser.” “Why? Getting dirty ideas?” “Getting?” His eyes gleam with dark amusement. “More like actively trying to stop myself from acting on them.”

