Page 66 of One-Time Shot

Ty had asked me that last night, and it had seemed like a flippant question.

Today, it seemed like the key to the secrets of the universe.

CHAPTER22

JETT

Less than forty-eight hours later,I was the talk of the town. So was Malcolm. I ignored the gossip, but it was hard to ignore the stares.

My friends told me not to worry…the chatter would die down, and they had my back no matter what. Randall told me I dodged a bullet, and my dad had returned to his usual spiel about money and real estate.

Nothing seemed to matter.

I was…lost.

I took solace on the ice, skating with headphones on to drown out my thoughts. The louder the music, the better. In the silence I looked for the cute guy with glasses, taking notes, and asking questions like, “What is net-front presence? Where did the Zamboni get its name? Which player made the most hockey scores ever?” And yeah, he’d say scores, and I’d correct him, and tell him they were called goals. And he’d smile that adorable smile that turned me inside out and?—

What was I doing?

Ty slapped my shoulder pad, pivoting on the ice to face me. “Hey, don’t let the noise get to you, big guy. It’ll pass.”

It’ll pass.

ButI didn’t want this to pass. Ever. I didn’t want the good-bye, the sad end, the horrible feeling that the person I loved fucked his future for mine or?—

Screech!

Love.

I loved him.

I loved Malcolm Maloney. And he didn’t know.

He thought he was doing me a favor. He’d thought I’d get over him.

I stared at the icy expanse sliced with sharp blades that spun in wide circles or ended with jagged finality, like deep cuts on skin. I’d grown up in rinks. I’d thrived on the discipline and feeling of belonging, security, and possibility I’d never felt at home. But I felt all those things with Malcolm.

And I didn’t want to spend another day without him. I had to undo what he’d fixed. And I had to do it in a big way.

I glanced at my watch, then at Ty. “I need a favor.”

* * *

I stood outside the physics building with a handful of my teammates. Ty, Langley, Brady, Regan, Pritchard. A few more were walking toward us and all of them were wearing their jerseys. Much to their amusement, we’d attracted a crowd. A few of my buddies were taking selfies with fellow students, enjoying an unscripted celebrity moment off the ice. It was good-natured and fun.

None of them understood the assignment, and maybe it would have been cool of me to explain myself, but I wasn’t ready.

“So…what are we doing?” one of the guys asked.

“We’re showing support for the science guy,” Ty answered.

He added something about it not being Malcolm’s fault that he had terrible taste in crushes. The guys laughed, but I’d stopped listening.

’Cause there he was.

Malcolm walked with his head down, his right shoulder slumping under the weight of a backpack I personally knew weighed at least ten pounds. His hair was a little unruly, but his khaki and V-neck ensemble was neat and tidy.

My pulse skyrocketed as I moved toward him, away from my teammates and onlookers, stepping onto the path in front of him. “Hey.”