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, not letting it connect where it should. Too many people sitting in the section below us turn over their shoulders to see who he’s pointing at. My cheeks are most likely flaming right now as I shake my head at him, but I also can’t fight the stupidly giddy smile on my lips. This man has no shame, acting like a love-sick idiot on the ice with twenty thousand fans watching him.
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