Once the lighting lifts again, I watch as Rio drops his helmet and gloves off at the bench before slowly skating along the length of the rink closest to us, eyes up in our general direction. I note the moment he spots Zanders’ box, and more specifically, me, because his face lights up with a beaming smile in a way I feel possessive over. In a way I’ve only seen directed at me. Rio lifts his stick in the air, pointing it in my direction, then tucks it under his arm to form his hands into a heart. And I don’t miss the way he lets one thumb overlap past the other to create a little extra piece,
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