Page 71

Zaiah’s hot breath hits my ear. “The game’s up here, sweetheart.”
My whole body tingles. “You put me in a group text with your parents.”
“They love you.”
I search his gaze. It’s as grounding as ever, but at the same time, it makes me soar right out of the building. I’m on a cloud, watching this from afar, or on a couch salivating over this scene in a movie.
This is not my life.
His lips peel into another grin. “Are you okay?”
I nod. “Having a little trouble breathing.”
“Here. I’ll resuscitate you.”
Zaiah leans over, his lips moving closer and closer. I watch them until my lids flutter closed. His lips take possession of mine, working over me. Sure, I’m kissing back, but I’m enthralled and dazed, caught in a spell of Zaiah’s own doing.
He could rule kingdoms with these lips.
He pulls away, and I’m sure I look like a goober, but my eyes stay closed, savoring the moment. His fingers drag over mine, sinking between them until we’re holding hands, his large palm sitting on top of mine against my thigh.
Without looking at him, I scoot closer and only open my eyes when I’m facing the ice again, in time for someone to get checked into the boards right in front of us. To our left, the people stand, slamming their palms on the glass, but Zaiah and I stay right where we are. Together.
The first period passes like a fairy tale. The longer the game stretches, the more comfortable I am. I’m able to enjoy the game with Zaiah, not just be a girl riding high on dopamine hits.
I should do an article about love being a drug. I can’t be the only person who thinks of it this way. Not that I’m in love with him. I don’t think. There must be some scientific explanation for feeling high around someone you care about.
“I’m going to head to concessions. Want anything?”
“Popcorn?”
He nods, kissing my forehead. After he’s disappeared, I take out my phone. It would be rude of me to not respond to his family, so I send the score of the game. No less than five texts appear one after the other.
Iz: See any hot players?
Zaiah: Shut your mouth.
Mom James: He didn’t like that. LOL.
Iz: He’s worried Len will run off with a bigger, better player.
My stomach squeezes, but I respond, sending a laughing emoji. It’s a safe response. I could be laughing that they’re eventhinking that, or I could be laughing along with them. I could also be laughing that I would even do that, which is my true response. There isn’t a bigger, better player than Zaiah.
Zaiah returns soon after I put my phone away. He dangles the popcorn in front of me, but when I go to take it, he sits, moving it out of my grasp. “Explain something to me, pretty girl.”
“What?”
“What does your emoji mean?”
“It’s clearly a laughing emoji. I’m laughing.”
“At what?” His eyes dance.
“Your family.”
He sits back, digging around in my popcorn and throwing a couple pieces into his mouth. “Be more specific.”
I can’t help but smile. “They’re asking weird questions.”