One-Touch Pass (SCU Hockey #4)

by J.J. Mulder

“You’re really pretty,” I hear myself say, completely unbidden. “Like my horse.” Marcos gives me a flat, incredulous look, which I deserve. Why the flying fuck did I just say that? I rush to talk, desperate to keep those dark eyes on mine.

I’m shaky with the realization that I am completely fucked. I don’t want to be friends with Nate. Not even a little bit. Friends is nowhere near good enough.

“I’m sorry, Marcos.” I tip my head back up to look at him. “I know things have been harder because of me, and⁠—” “Don’t,” I warn him, frowning. “Don’t apologize for what they did to you.” “To us,” he corrects softly.

Nate Is Yoshi the best character or is Yoshi the best character? Marcos Toad. Nate It’s a good thing you’re so cute.

“Well, I might have had a small thing for you when we first met,” he admits. “You mean when I was following you around, and practically begging you to be my friend? You were ignoring me because you liked me?” I can’t help but laugh. “I didn’t know how to talk to you! You’re so…pretty. It’s scary. You made me nervous. But then I sort of got over this”—he waves a hand at my face—“and realized that we wouldn’t be good together anyway, and I was better off having you as a friend.” “So, what I’m hearing is you came for my face, but left because of my personality? Lovely,” I deadpan.

view. Finally succeeding in getting him talking, I settle in to bask in his presence. He’s painfully and unfairly lovely. A voice meant for radio, and a face meant for the big screen. His tan skin is broken up here and there by freckles and scars, little blemishes that should detract but merely add to his appeal. Again, the thought of how unsuited I am for him nudges its way into my mind. I can’t imagine what he sees when he looks at me; can’t imagine anything about myself that would make someone like Nate look twice.

Inhaling, I slide my hand into his and thread our fingers together. He squeezes my hand and aims a smile my way that feels like the sun shining directly on my face.

“I love it here,” I tell Marcos. He tilts his head and meets my eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, home is great, but⁠—” “No ocean,” he fills in. “No ocean,” I agree. Knocking my knee against his, I rest my head against the back of the camp chair and smile at him. “And no Marcos.”

“Me and Max came together,” Nate tells me, bringing my attention back to him. “Me and him are going to hit up all the games together from now on since our guys are on the team.” I raise my eyebrows at “our guys,” but let it pass for now. I want that. I want him.

“Speaking of Nate.” “Were we?” “Did you tell him you were going to school to be an accountant? Because he keeps making offhand comments in the locker room about his accountant. ‘Oh my accountant messaged me,’ and ‘my accountant and I are grabbing dinner tonight.’ Everyone thinks he’s making investments or something.” “Oh my god.” I snort, shaking my head and smiling at the visual. “He’s so goofy,” Max says fondly. “I like him.”

Two days here, and it has become extremely obvious to me that I love him. Two days here, and I’m imagining how I might fit in for months. Years. I’m imagining welcoming Nate back home at the end of every day, smelling the sweat on his skin and seeing the smile that’s always on his face. In two days’ time, I’ve had enough daydreams to plan our entire life together.

Nate looks up at my face, green eyes meeting mine and snapping with heat. Crawling back over me, he holds my chin still and kisses me. “You’re mine now,” he whispers.

“I hope Max and Luke kept all those pictures I sent them of you,” I say sadly. “I need to replace all of mine now.” Marcos gives me a strange look, and nudges me toward the bathroom. “You don’t need pictures, I’m right here.”