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luca

T he Rainforest Café?

I mean—it’s a choice.

Not a great one. Not a sexy one. Not the kind of place I’d normally take a girl I’ve been dying to get my hands on . But Nova?

She’s testing me.

She probably thinks I’m too stupid to realize it, maybe she thinks I’ve been knocked in the face one too many times with a hockey stick to have a set of brains. The joke is on her because I wasn’t born yesterday, and I know what she’s doing.

The truth is: I already know this is a shitty idea.

I already know I won’t be able to tell Gio.

Why would I?

This isn’t a date.

Nova said so much herself and who am I to contradict her? A mere drink between acquaintances…

Another truth: as my teammate’s sister, she is the one woman I absolutely should not date. Sure, I’m attracted to her. I’d be a fool not to be. But her brother has a history of giving hell to anyone who so much as utters her name, especially when it comes to finding her attractive. Zero dudes in the history of the Baddies have ever taken her out; handing her a drink at a Christmas party does.

Not.

Count.

So when Nova popped up on my screen on the dating app, I about rolled off my goddamn couch.

Then when I matched with her?

I nearly dropped my fucking phone.

But there she was; Nova Montagalo— flirting with me .

I’d have to be a goddamn idiot to let an opportunity like that pass me by.

I plan to jump in the shower, telling myself I’m not putting in any more than any guy would before drinks with someone new. I’ll shave with precision. Debate which cologne makes me smell sexy and hot enough to have a woman wet between her legs.

Standing in the bathroom as I wait for the water to heat up, I swipe a hand over my jaw, checking my reflection in the mirror.

Damn I look good…

More importantly? I look like someone who knows exactly what he’s doing, which is a complete fucking lie. Honestly though, I am clueless, operating solely on my sense of humor and an unhealthy amount of fake confidence.

When in doubt? Make her laugh. Make her smile.

The truth? I’m not all that confident.

People assume I am; because of the way I carry myself, because of my size, because I know how to throw a punch during a fight on the ice and can take one without flinching. But confidence is something built when you’re told you’re worth something. When you grow up hearing you’re smart, or talented, or even good.

I didn’t.

I grew up with a dad who never outright said I was a disappointment, but he never had to. It was in the way he sighed loudly when I missed a play, the way he compared me to my teammates who were bigger, faster, better. My mom—she meant well, I think. But she taught me early that love was conditional.

I had to earn it…and even then, it could still be taken away.

Shaking my head as if to clear those thoughts, I climb into the shower. The water’s too hot, but I don’t care. It wakes me up, cranks my energy up a notch. Tonight isn’t a date—at least, not technically—but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to it.

Nova’s fun. She’s the kind of person who keeps you on your toes, who makes it impossible to predict what she’s gonna say next. And yeah, she’s hot. Stupidly hot. But it’s more than that.

I scrub my hands through my hair, lather up quickly. I don’t need to overthink this. I just need to show up, look good, and not make an idiot of myself. Should be easy.

Rinsing off, I cut the water and step out, grabbing a towel. The mirror’s fogged up, but I don’t need to see my reflection to know I’m grinning like a dumbass.

6:03

I’ve got some time to figure out what the hell a guy wears to a non-date that he secretly hopes turns into more.

I want Nova to like me.

No—scratch that. I want her to want me and my dick.

I walk into my closet and stand in the center of it, eyeballing my dress shirts. Rainforest Café or not, I am going to make an effort, and I reach for the blue polo shirt with cream-colored buttons. It’s soft, pulls taut across my shoulders, and shows off my biceps.

I flex in the mirror.

“ Hey,” I say to my reflection. “I totally just threw this on — What? You think my arms are nice. You’re welcome.”

Grabbing my best pair of dark jeans, the ones that sit just right on my hips, I shimmy into them and debate what shoes to wear. Boots? Sneakers?

Loafers ?

Yeah, loafers.

One last glance in the mirror and I’m thinking, if Nova doesn’t at least consider climbing me like a tree by the end of the night, I’ll be personally offended.

I twist my wrist to check the time: 6:32

It takes less than three minutes for me to fuck with my hair, decide I detest it, fix it again, then question if it was better the first time.

“Shit,” I groan, raking my fingers through it one last time before forcing myself to step away.

6:35

Jesus. What the hell am I going to do with all this extra time?

Dousing myself with the cologne I bought on a trip to France, I pace my living room, glancing at the clock every thirty seconds like that’s gonna speed things up.

Flop down on the couch and flip through new movies, staring absentmindedly at the screen, not really seeing anything. I could start one, but let’s be real—I’d be sitting here checking the time every five minutes, counting down like a kid on Christmas Eve.

6:42

I toss the remote onto the coffee table.

Maybe I should just leave now. Show up early, act like it was an accident. Oh, you said eight? Thought you meant seven fifteen. My bad.

My knee bounces nervously, and I tap my fingers against my thigh, sit up again, restless energy buzzing under my skin.

“Chill, dude.”

But all I can think about is Nova—what she’s going to smell like, how she’s going to feel pressed up against my body if she goes in for a hug, and if she’s been thinking about tonight even half as much as I have.

6:45

“Screw it.” I grab my keys and stand. If I stay here any longer, I’m going to lose my damn mind .

Besides, it’s going to take at least a half hour to get downtown, which puts me at the restaurant early but not embarrassingly so.

Fine. It’s too early, but since when is being early a bad thing?

The last time I saw Nova was six months ago, at the Baddies Holiday party, and I hate to tell you…she mostly ignored me. Not in a rude way. More like I wasn’t on her radar?

She smiled at me—once—but who was counting?

Meanwhile, I spent the whole night tracking her movements like a fucking idiot, like a lovesick puppy. Watching the way she tilted her head when she laughed, the way her eyes lit up when she talked with my teammates…none of whom have an actual chance with her.

Gio makes that very clear at the start of each season. Loves the sound of his own voice—gets up on a bench in the locker room like he’s delivering a speech to Parliament, droning on about " stay away from my sister, keep your dicks in your pants, " blah blah blah.

Anyway.

I’m pretty fond of my teeth exactly where they are. And Gio has made it painfully clear that if anyone so much as thinks about messing with his sister in a way that isn’t strictly respectful and aggressively platonic, he’ll personally rearrange their face—no dental plan required.

He polices this shit harder than a ref on a power trip.

Don’t know if I’d act the same way if I had a sister, but I also don’t know that I wouldn’t? My teammates are all fucking cool; I can’t see myself cockblocking any of them.

I exit to downtown, driving slowly because traffic is insane.

The Rainforest Café isn’t difficult to find, and I after I park, I check my phone—no texts. No last-minute cancellations.

Good.

She hasn’t chickened out on me.

I exhale, running a hand through my hair before stepping out of the car. This is fine. Everything is fine .

If Nova wants giant aquariums covered in toddler fingerprints— and a volcano brownie that shoots firecrackers for a first date—then I’ll give her the best damn Rainforest Café experience of her life.