Page 15 of Practice Makes Perfect (Pine Barren University #2)

“Yeah.” Linc kicks at a pebble on the sidewalk. “I get it, I do. Mike’s injury might have destroyed—or at least delayed—his future in hockey. But…”

“So, just to be clear,” I say, “you had all this pressure on you, and then some random girl freaked out and ran away from your apartment?”

That gets a genuine laugh out of him. “When you put it that way, it does sound like a pretty shit night.”

“For both of us.”

We walk in companionable silence for a minute. The campus is quiet at this hour, most students either out at parties or tucked away in their dorms. I’m hyperaware of Linc beside me, our arms occasionally brushing as we navigate the sidewalk.

“Can I say something about Mike?” I ask finally.

“Sure.”

“Just because someone’s going through a hard time, it doesn’t give them an excuse to disappear as a friend. It explains it, but it doesn’t excuse it.”

Linc looks at me with surprise. “That’s… insightful.”

“I have my moments.” I shrug.

We’ve been walking for more than fifteen minutes now, following the winding campus paths in what feels like an aimless meander. I’m not quite ready for the conversation to end, which is strange considering how desperately I wanted to avoid Linc just thirty minutes ago.

“This is me,” I say as we approach Hughes Hall. The old brick building looms against the night sky.

I hover at the bottom of the steps, my hand gripping the cold metal railing. Something shifts in the air between us, a current of possibility. His eyes meet mine, and he seems to want to say something until he thinks better of it, and then I decide before my brain can talk me out of it.

Find some trouble.

Well, here goes nothing.

I swallow, although my mouth feels as dry as a desert. “Do you want to come up? Lea’s staying at Declan’s place tonight.”

His eyebrow rises slightly, even as his eyes widen. “What exactly are you asking me, Em?”

The directness of his question catches me off guard.

I expected him to just say yes or no, maybe with a flirtatious comment thrown in.

Instead, he’s making me clarify my intentions, which is understandable given my freak-out the last time we tried, but that I find both frustrating and oddly compelling.

“I’m asking if you want to come upstairs.” I pause, summoning courage from my grandmother’s words. “For something slow and uncomplicated.”

His expression shifts, curiosity mixing with something darker. “And what would that be?”

“I was thinking—” I falter momentarily, then push forward. “I was thinking you could… coach me.”

“Coach you?” He looks genuinely confused now. “I didn’t think you had an interest in hockey, Em…”

“About sex,” I blurt out, then immediately want to melt into the concrete beneath my feet.

“I’ve been trying to find someone to hook up with, but it’s not going well.

Everyone Lea and I find either wants to move too fast or is a total creep or is already in a relationship. And, well… you seem to like me… so…”

Linc remains perfectly still, his face unreadable in the dim light from the streetlamp overhead. My confidence evaporates with each millisecond of silence, replaced by a burning desire to sprint up the stairs and barricade myself in my room for the next four years.

“Oh my God, how stupid am I?” I blurt out, my mind starting to race. “I ran out on you, super embarrassing , and now I’ve offered you something less enticing than almost any girl—and some guys—on campus would offer you at any time of the day or night. Thanks for the chips, Linc, and the walk.”

I turn and start my way up the stairs, my face burning red with embarrassment. If I could snap my fingers and teleport, I’d instantly relocate myself to a monastery in rural France, or some uninhabited patch of desert in the Australian Outback, or maybe the bottom of the ocean, or maybe?—

“You want me to… teach you how to have sex?” Linc finally asks from behind me, a moment before I head inside, his voice carefully neutral.

“When you say it like that, it sounds ridiculous.” I press the heels of my hands against my eyes, not daring to face him. “Forget I said it. This was a terrible idea.”

I reach out to open the door to Hughes Hall, but he’s walked up behind me without me knowing, and his hand catches my wrist, gentle but firm. I freeze, unable to look at him, but not pulling away.

“I’ll do it.”

The words hang in the night air between us, impossible to ignore. Slowly, I turn back to face him, certain I’ve misheard.

“You’ll what?” I say.

“I said I’ll do it.” There’s an intensity in his eyes now, a focus that makes my breath catch. “I want to do it.”

I close my eyes and let out a tiny “squee” of excitement and relief before I can stop myself. When I open them again, Linc is trying not to smile.

“But,” he says, letting go of my wrist and holding up three fingers, “I have conditions.”

“Of course you do.” I try to sound casual, as though my heart isn’t trying to hammer its way out of my chest.

“One: We do this at your place, not mine. You need to feel comfortable to try new things.”

I nod. “That makes sense.”

“Two: We schedule our… sessions… on non-game days. I need to be completely present for this, not distracted by hockey.”

“Practical. I respect that.”

“Three.” His expression turns serious. “Neither of us can develop feelings. This is a strictly platonic arrangement, even if we’re attracted to each other. I don’t have room for a girlfriend right now with everything else going on, and you need to learn and get over your hang-ups, not fall for me.”

An odd pang hits my chest at his words, but I swallow it down. “Agreed. I’m not looking for a boyfriend either. This is purely educational.”

“Educational,” he repeats, one corner of his mouth lifting. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

“Shut up,” I mutter, feeling heat rise to my cheeks once again. “Do we have a deal or not?”

“We have a deal.” He extends his hand formally, and I shake it, trying to ignore the electric feeling that shoots up my arm at his touch.

“So… do you want to start right now?” I ask, nodding toward the door to my building.

Linc steps closer, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body in the cool night air. “There’s nothing I’d rather do right now,” he says, his voice low and primal in a way that liquefies my insides. “I’m amped up, wired, and honestly, horny as hell for you.”

My mouth goes dry at his words.

“But,” he continues, “I want to be in the right mindset for our first lesson. I want to plan it, make it good for you.”

“When, then?”

“I have an away game tomorrow, but I’m free Monday night. Three days from now. That work for you?”

I nod, unable to form words with his face so close to mine.

For a wild moment, I think he might kiss me, but instead, he leans forward and presses his lips softly to my cheek.

It’s honestly the hottest and most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced, and I don’t want to run this time, which makes it all the more frustrating.

“Goodnight, Em,” he murmurs against my skin before pulling away. “I’ll text you the details.”

“Linc…” I whisper, breathlessly.

But he’s already walking backward, still facing me, a small smile playing on his lips. “Sweet dreams.”

I stand frozen on the steps, watching as he turns and strides away into the darkness, my cheek tingling where his lips touched. For a second, my mind is still—content, at peace—but then it fires up again, and one treacherous thought circles in my mind, even though I’d agreed to his rules.

Why did he kiss my cheek if I’m not his girlfriend?