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“I know. But he makes it so easy.”
She reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “I'm really happy for you.”
“Thanks.”
Then, because she’s still Soph, the softness lasts all of three seconds. “But the sex is also really good, right?”
I nearly choke on my drink. My eyes dart toward the neighboring tables before snapping back to her. “Soph!”
“What?” She lowers her drink, blinking at me with exaggerated innocence.
“You truly are unbelievable.”
“And you’re blushing again,” she sing-songs, leaning across the small table and pointing at my face as if she’s won a court case. “Which means I’m so damn right.”
I swat her hand away. “Keep your voice down.”
Her eyes sparkle with delight as she settles back in her chair. “That wasn't a denial.”
“Shut up,” I mutter.
“But am I wrong?”
“…No.”
“I knew it!” She pumps a victorious fist into the air, earning an amused glance from the couple at the next table. “I need details. Immediately. Did you finally get your well-deserved O’s?”
“Oh my God.”
“What? I'm invested now,” she pouts.
“Let's just say chemistry isn't a problem.”
Soph grins so widely I'm surprised if her face doesn't hurt. “I was hoping you'd say that.” I drop my forehead briefly to the table. When I sit back up, she’s watching me with a fond, but slightly smug expression. “Seriously though, I’m so fucking happy for you. You deserve something light after your ex.”
I swallow past the sudden tightness in my throat. Because with Ollie, I don’t feel like I’m auditioning for a place in his life. I’m just there and that’s enough. It’ll take me time to get used to the feeling.
She lifts her iced matcha in a toast. “To hot, emotionally available men who sweep you off your feet.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
We finish our lunch and head back to the shop. The moment I step inside, I freeze in my tracks. Because sitting on the couch in the waiting area is Felix Hildebrand. The starting goalie for the Brooklyn Peacocks, one of the best hockey teams in the League. Sure, they’re local to the area but I wasn’t expecting to run into any of the players. Holy shit.
Soph follows my line of sight, looking back at me as realization dawns. “You a hockey fan by any chance?” I nod, so she continues, “you’re about to lose it, am I right?”
“I’m not going to lose it,” I whisper shout. “I just—”
“Let me introduce you to him.”
Every muscle in my body locks as my heart launches into a sprint while my brain abandons ship. That's Felix Hildebrand. In the flesh. Sitting less than ten feet away like he's any other customer waiting for his tattoo appointment.
My palms grow clammy, and suddenly I’m painfully aware of everything my face is doing. Am I smiling? Looking too long? Somehow doing both? Act normal. Don't stare. Definitely don't point his way. Oh God, was that last glance too long?
“I cannot meet him,” I tell my friend.
“You absolutely can,” she says with a confidence I don’t possess. “He’s been in twice for a massive fantasy-inspired back piece. The first time was the day Tilly arrived, actually. I’ve talked to him loads, and he’s ridiculously down-to-earth. Just like you.”
“I will die if he even looks my way.”
