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CHAPTER TEN

Iwas sitting in the terminal, waiting for my flight to Dallas when my phone pinged with a new message.

Trouble: Does this mean I’m your favorite player on the Hawks now?

I grinned but then glanced at the time. It was nearly six here, which meant it was four back in LA. Why was Carson even awake?

I hadn’t heard from him after the game, but I knew how crazy that postgame rush to the airport could be. I was guessing their flight had gotten back late, but I figured he would’ve gone home and passed out. I definitely would’ve still been in bed, but for some reason I’d decided it was a good idea to book the earliest flight to Dallas to maximize my time with my family since I didn’t have practice or games for the next three days. But I was currently regretting that decision as well as how much I’d decided to drink at the party last night.

Me: You’re up early. Or maybe…late?

Trouble: Just got home. Phone died last night before I could respond.

Trouble: You still didn’t answer my question.

I huffed out a laugh. Considering the fact that he’d scored Emerson’s number for me, he might be my favorite everything. But I wasn’t going to tell him that. Wouldn’t want it to go to his head.

Me: For now.

Trouble: I’ll take that as a win.

Trouble: The team awarded me the game puck for the first time last night.

Me: Well deserved. I bet that felt good.

Trouble: I guess we’ll have to sleep together before every game now.

As if. But I was grinning as I typed out my reply.

Me: I guess you’ll have to settle for a pillow wearing my jersey.

His reply was swift, as was my following one.

Trouble: Not if I’m wearing it.

Me: LOL. Very funny.

Even though Carson was just teasing, I’d never been with a man who wanted to wear my jersey. Have my name on their back. My ex would’ve scoffed at the notion, had scoffed at the idea. Though maybe that was because he couldn’t handle my success.

He’d been sent back down to the farm team last year.

Trouble: I’m serious.

Me: Show me.

Oh shit. My eyes widened. I’d been so involved, I hadn’t stopped to consider the consequences. It was too late to “unsend” my message, and my phone showed that Carson had already read it anyway.

I debated typing out another message. Something like “just kidding,” but part of me wanted to see what he’d do. Wanted to know if he’d accept my challenge.

Three dots danced on the screen then disappeared. Danced again, and I briefly wondered if I was holding my breath. You just had to push that line, didn’t you?

Lately, it seemed like that was all I did—see how far I could push our friendship. Test its boundaries. Test myself.

A message came through. I stared down at my phone, unable to tear my eyes away from the screen where Carson’s latest text message was displayed. But it wasn’t the words that had caught my attention; it was the image he’d sent.

Oh my god. So. Fucking. Hot.

I scanned the photo, jolting when there was an announcement about a gate change over the PA system. My cheeks heated, and I glanced around the terminal as if someone would call me out for what I was looking at.