Page 87 of Daring the Hockey Player

Are they recording us? Maybe they're just watching videos on one of the social media apps.

My breath is shaky as the train slows at the next station, and I hurry off and onto the platform, heading for the escalator. Jasper is right on my heel and grabs my hand, quick to catch up to me.

"What's on your mind? You've been tense since we left the train."

"You didn't notice anyone filming us?" I feel paranoid. It's not like we're doing anything illegal or illicit.

Jasper shrugs, and we approach a traffic light, forced to wait for it to change. "It goes with the territory. I get all sorts of people snapping pics of me when they realize who I am. Usually, it's when I'm in my jersey, but you're wearing my jersey. They probably put it together. And we make a great couple. Who wouldn't want to watch us make out?"

I turn to face him, and his breath mingles with mine. I shiver, but this time, it isn't from the cold.

"Does it bother you?" he asks, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. The light changes, and he ushers me forward.

I follow his lead, letting him walk me back to our apartment complex. We head inside; the lobby is warm, and it's a blast of heat that is overwhelming as my fingers and nose are numb.

Jasper reaches forward and presses the button on the elevator. I miss his body, his touch, his proximity. I gently rock back into him, and he notices. How could he not?

"We'll be home in a minute," he whispers into my ear, a hand on my hip, steadying me.

I take a deep breath in, and I can smell his scent. It's everywhere, surrounding me, from the jersey to his body standing behind me, barely touching me.

The double doors to the elevator open. I step inside the small space, and he follows, pressing the button for the floor, and his arms are snuggly wrapped around my waist, pulling me against his chest.

His arms are warm, his touch soothes me, and we've reached the twenty-fourth floor before I know it. "We're here," he says, indicating that I should probably untangle from him and step out onto the floor.

He retrieves his key from his pants pocket and unlocks the door, gesturing for me to step inside first. The house is quiet, and I reach for the light switch as I'm flooded with memories from earlier of the two of us fooling around in his bed.

My breath is raspy, and my nerves tingle throughout my stomach, making me anxious all over again.

He shuts the front door and secures the lock.

"I should get ready for bed," I whisper and turn and head for the bedroom. Am I expecting him to follow me or invite himself to join me? We haven't defined this thing between us, and I don't think three in the morning is the time to do so.

"It's late," Jasper says and rubs his eyes.

I turn and head for the hallway, glancing at his bedroom door that was left ajar, the light still on, and the sheets crumpled from our festivities earlier. I bite down on my bottom lip and step inside my own room, flipping on the light.

He turns off the lights in the living room and heads down the hallway. "Can I text you while I'm away?" Jasper asks, standing in the doorframe of his bedroom.

"I would like that," I whisper.

"Goodnight." I hear his soft voice as he heads into his room, and the door clicks behind him as he shuts it.

I close my bedroom door and flop onto the bed in a heap. I don't bother undressing for bed. I like wearing his jersey, it smells like Jasper, and I want to be wrapped up in his scent while I sleep.

* * *

I awaken the next morning, and Jasper is gone long before I have to be up for class. There's a note on the kitchen counter along with several twenty-dollar bills that he stacked and left behind.

Eat while I'm away.

I'll eat, but I don't need to spend his money. I push the cash aside on the counter, shoving it into the corner where he can collect it when he gets home.

I put on a pot of coffee and force myself not to text Jasper first thing in the morning, which is hard, considering I want to comment on his note and the money.

But I don't want to seem too desperate to text him. He's busy with practice, or at least on the way to practice.

What time did he leave this morning?