Gravity

by Tal Bauer

Slava Molnárová kicks the tape back to Etienne Leroux while MacKenzie Vaillancourt and Janne Mäkinen talk a mile a minute past each other.

The most obnoxious names I’ve ever heard honestly

“I have watched you play for two years. C'est bon de te rencontrer enfin.”

I could faint. I could also puke, right onto the ice, right between his skates. “Hi,” I squeak. “I wear your number.” “Enchanté.” Bryce's grin grows. “I wear your number, too.”

“Bravo, chaton,” he says with a wink. My French is iffy at best, limited to curses and play calls I try to pick out. I frown. “Kitten. Because you are ferocious, non?”

KITTEN!?

the man who looked me in the eyes and dared to risk everything because, somehow, I made his heart beat faster.

He looks too much like he does in my dreams when my imagination of him whispers, “Je te desire. Mon coeur bat la chamade pour toi.”

“Je t’adore,” he whispers. “Tu parles français?” “I’m learning.” A kiss to my shoulder. “I want to speak French with you.” Another kiss. “I want to do everything with you.”

Is this what falling in love really is? Discovering pieces of yourself inside another person?

“S'il te plaît?”

Not HIM being the one to beg lawd

Fais de beaux rêves, mon coeur. À demain matin.

“Je t'aime aussi, mon amour.” My voice is more breath than sound, a whisper strained through silence. But these words have shape and weight, and they move from my lips to Hunter's ears. “Je t'aime de tout.”