Page 77 of Hockey Halloween
Ligaya
The heat of his words against my neck, the ridge of his cock behind me, the firmness of his hand against my stomach—everything about our bodies touching is somehow both too much and not enough.
“You guys—oh shit, sorry!” A shrill voice makes us jump away from each other.
Sydney giggles through her apology. “On my way home! Thanks for everything, Ligaya. Nice meeting you, Tristan. Resume your, um, cooking!”
Tristan gives her a wave, but his eyes are glued to my face. My hand flies to my cheeks. Then, he does the weirdest thing. He grazes my forehead to move my hair. Twice.
“I’ve always wanted to do that,” he admits.
“Pin me over a counter full of appetizers?”
He shakes his head. “This,” Tristan says, repeating the brush of fingers on my forehead. “You do it all the time.”
“That’s either the sweetest thing anyone has noticed about me, or the precursor to a stalker movie.”
“The night is young. Things could go either way,” he teases.
Continuing to flirt with Tristan is a bad idea, but I’ve come to realize that I’m a collector of bad ideas when it comes to this man. I am never as reckless as when Tristan’s around. He has always been the one person who can send me out of my comfort zone and into the unexpected, the uncertain.
My life is built on certainty, working where I went to school and buying a home minutes from the one in which I grew up.
It’s not just a matter of familiarity that keeps me close.
I love this town. I adore my family and friends.
Helping students is my passion. I’ve built something solid here. Something good.
But Tristan is different.
He took the most devastating thing that could happen to a kid—losing his sister and being left with parents who couldn’t help navigate the grief—and soldiered on.
He lived every day without losing the energy and creativity of his mischievous nature.
He battled through a career that few could even dream of.
He took risks.
I never thought of myself as someone who settled, but with Tristan in front of me, I wonder if I have.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about our kiss,” I admit before I can convince myself to shut up.
His brows lift, but he doesn’t look smug. “Is that so?”
I swallow. “Have you?”
“What do you think?”
“I think I want you to come over tonight.”
My directness takes us both by surprise. Although a one-night stand is out of character for me, there’s no regret.
Tristan’s eyes darken. “I want that, too.”
My face flushes and my body tingles at the way he looks at me. Before I can talk myself out of taking the leap, I whisper conspiratorially, “You leave first. Meet me at my place in ten minutes?”
He doesn’t even answer. Tristan goes to the living room and makes some vague reference to an early morning practice.
“Thanks for tonight, Toby. Nice meeting everyone,” Tristan says casually. “See you around, Ligaya.”
I mumble something while gathering plates.
“Now that your special guest is gone, are you joining us?” Toby asks me. My friends are in the middle of a charades competition .
“I’m good,” I state nonchalantly. “I’ll refill the punch.”
“We’ve moved on to bourbon,” Toby says. “Pour yourself one.”
“I’m actually exhausted,” I say with a half-smile, fluffing a couch pillow that definitely didn’t need fluffing. “I’ll tidy up and get going.”
“Do you have an early morning practice too?” Anna teases, wiggling her brows.
“What? No, of course not.”
“I’m glad you’re a director, Ligaya, because you are seriously the worst actor,” Kai says with a chuckle.
I slump down onto the couch, my arms crossed over my chest as I sink into the cushion. They’re right. I’m about as subtle as a flashing Las Vegas sign.
“He’s really into you,” Toby states, looking at me over the rim of his glass.
“For a one-night stand, I guess. I’m not mad about it,” I confirm, tracing a loose thread on the arm of the couch. My voice is calm, but inside, my mind sprints in circles.
“What are you waiting for?” Toby asks.
He doesn't wait for a response. He jumps off his seat, grabs my coat, and pulls me to my feet. “Get out of here,” he urges while steering me toward the door.