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“Is he your type?” Trey’s words bounce around in my head a bit before they sink in.

I shake my head, trying to conjure a mental picture of “my type” but all I see is Trey and I have to shake my head. Not going to happen, Kenz.

“Mytypeleans toward lug heads who’ve got eyes only for big chests, no waist, and so much makeup they could be in a theater production.” I wish saying that out loud made me feel better.

“Well, that’s one way to classify him,” Trey says with a laugh.

“Hence why I don’t date anymore.” The words come out breathy, but not because I’m struggling for air. It’s a weird time trap that I’m here talking to the guy of my dreams about what my type is.

He doesn’t fit into the lug head category, at least I hope not. From my quick studies of his dates throughout the years, he doesn’t seem to have a type.

“You haven’t had one fun date in your life? Ever?” Trey gives me a look that he doesn’t believe me.

I shuffle through several of my past dating experiences and shake my head. “No, they either consist of the guy wanting to make out the entire date, or someone who leaves me with the check. I’m willing to go in halfsies just to have a good conversation and not leave a sour taste in my mouth.”

Trey smiles and I have to pull my gaze away or I could get sucked into that vortex. “So you are open to dating then. Have you heard of a matchmaking company called–”

“Love, Austen?” I ask, cutting him off.

His smile falls and he slows down. “Yeah, how did you know about them?”

“We don’t know each other enough for that conversation, Hatch.”

“I’m supposed to be on a docuseries about matchmaking. You should join me.” We’re walking at this point, and I decide to push to a jog. Movement helps me when I can’t come to a quick decision on things.

I raise my eyebrows. “Why? Because we’re suddenly such goodfriends?”

That’s probably not the best tone to use, but I don’t want to even ponder friendship with this man. We were kind of friends as teens, but some guys can’t get over the fact that a girl can play the same sport they do. And I’m safe in the unattached zone when it comes to the Trey Hatch orbit.

“You have a calming effect on me, which is strange because you seem to be agitated every time I’m around, like after my game. But I think that would help me out to get through the camera time.”

“Calming effect? Me? Yeah, I don’t believe that. I’m not putting myself through misery again.” I pause, his words finally registering. “What do you mean help you get through camera time?”

He gives me a sheepish grin and says, “If it’s not related to hockey, I don’t do well with a camera in my face. All the videos my mom took of me growing up are of me covering the lens with my hand or running away.”

Surprising information.

“I can pay you for your time,” he says.

Shaking my head, I say, “Don’t you have guy friends for that?”

He frowns. “I do have guy friends, but relationship stuff is kind of touchy these days. Ever since Miles got married, the rest of the pack is feeling the pressure.”

“There’s no timeline to be married by. I already checked.”

He bursts out laughing, as if I’ve just said the funniest thing ever. “Like there’s some rule book on whether you’ll die an old maid or old bachelor?” When I don’t answer, he says, “Think about it. Please.”

“Fine. Now can we keep going?” I ask, waving to the course ahead of us.

"If we push it, we can make it to the next obstacle almost at the same time as Jack."

I glance up and see that we've fallen behind again.Speed isn’t something I lack, but he might be overestimating our progress a bit.

"Looks like Drew is right behind him." Dani is a few steps after the two of them, and then there’s Miles. The guy is a freaking saint even during a race. Too bad he doesn't come with a brother. A duplicate of that man might get me to forget my feelings for the guy running along beside me.

I push even further, my lungs burning with the effort and the leftover muddy water residue. The next obstacle is a padded platform that moves back and forth. It resembles the set up I remember from the showWipe Out.

I jump on it and then have to wait several seconds for my balance to adjust to the jarring movements. Then I rush forward, jumping to the next platform. It's a large wall and every so often, a large boxing glove juts out.