Page 28 of One-Time Shot

“Romulus,” I immediately replied.

“Too easy. What class starship is the Enterprise?”

“I assume you’re talking about the USS Enterprise-D, which is a galaxy-class starship.” I made a mic-drop gesture and crossed my arms.

Malcolm’s lips curled slightly, and then…he grinned. He tried to hide it at first, but he gave up and let it fly. And damn, he was very fucking cute.

“You’re a man of mystery, Mr. Erickson.”

“I know, right?” I waggled my brows. “I was a big fan as a kid. I loved the idea of an interplanetary world that I could visit with good guys and bad guys, and cool aliens.”

“Me too.”

I waited for him to add something, but he didn’t. Eventually, I pointed at my rink sketch. “Why are there three red lines on the ice?”

Malcolm slumped in his chair. “I have no idea.”

“Come on. You know this,” I cajoled.

“Their geometric position suggests that the center line marks the middle, and the other two have something to do with the net thing. I don’t know what, and I’ve lost the will to care. Ask me where the blue lines are. I know that one.”

I snorted. “Fine. Where’re the blue lines?”

He picked up a pen and marked the lines on the paper. “Here and here. Their purpose has something to do with off the sides, but I don’t know what that means and to be perfectly honest, at this very moment, I’d prefer to have my eyes gouged out than to know the answer. Can we please cease and desist any further hockey discussions today?”

I threw my head back and laughed.

“Fine. You win. I have practice in forty-five minutes, anyway.” I checked the time on my cell. “Not worth going home, but?—”

“Stay. If you’d like,” he added quickly. “I can make a healthy snack and…perhaps there’s an intergalactic rerun on television. If you want to stay…that is.”

Butterflies swarmed in my chest, and my mouth went dry. So fucking silly, right? It wasn’t as if he’d asked to suck my dick, but my body seemed to think carrot sticks and old TV shows were a decent close second.

I licked my lips and inclined my chin. “Sounds good.”

* * *

One week later:

“What’s a one-timer?”

Malcolm hummed. “It’s um…also known as a one-time shot, and it means that you only have one opportunity to score. All night. Ever. For the rest of eternity.”

I made a buzzer noise as I chomped on a pretzel. “Wrong. Try again.”

“It’s that thing of which a teammate passes the puck to you and you deposit it into the net…posthaste.”

Laughter bubbled in my chest. I tried not to let it go…I really did, but I loved the way he talked. I bit the inside of my cheek and inclined my head. “That’s generally correct. Good job.”

“Thank you. Are we finished? I made brownies earlier. Might I tempt you with one?”

“You’re bribing me to stop this important hockey tutorial with brownies?”

Malcolm nodded solemnly. “I am.”

“Do you have ice cream?”

“I do.”