Page 35 of Rule 2: Never Join a Christmas Dating Show

I’m going to watch Luke play against New Hampshire. I make sure I’m completely packed, then head down to the massive breakfast hall. Guests tackle their bacon and sausage with the gusto of those who confine themselves to toast and oatmeal at home.

“Sebastian!” Luke waves when he sees me, and I smile at him uncertainly.

He’s sitting at a table with his friends.

I hesitate.

Luke frowns, as if I’m acting strangely, then he heaves a sigh and stands up. His cotton t-shirt stretches in interesting ways around his chest. My gaze bounces away from him, because there’s no way I’m going to be lusting after him in a room full of jocks.

“There’s a table this way, sir,” the waiter says, flourishes his hand in the direction of a few businesspeople whose pudgy frames and sallow complexions show they are not part of the team.

“That won’t be necessary.” Luke nudges my shoulder, brushing it against his own. “I saved my friend a seat.”

The waiter’s eyebrows leap up, as if even he can tell that “friend” shouldn’t be a term that describes Luke and me.

I don’t belong at the cool table filled with professional athletes. Not the table everyone is eying curiously, some people taking strategically aimed selfies, some just pictures of them.

But Luke ushers me toward it all the same. “Sit down.”

I do so.

“Coffee or tea?” he asks me.

“Coffee.”

“Orange or grape juice?”

“Orange.”

“What do you like to eat?”

“I can get my own food.”

“Yeah, how is he going to know you’re going to pick the good things from the buffet table?” Troy asks.

Luke scrunches his lips together, and the other guys at the table laugh.

We haven’t actually been introduced, but I know Troy is the Blizzards’ goalie.

“Fine. Grab your food,” Luke tells me. “I’ll show you the good stuff and get your drinks.”

Troy snorts. “Better do what he says, Sebastian.”

I follow Luke to the buffet table. He grabs a tray anyway and piles it high with more food than necessary, asking my opinion about scrambled eggs and pastries and fruit salad.

The other guys are still there, and I sit down obediently. Luke busies himself with making sure I have everything, then he slides in beside me.

“Guys, this is Sebastian Archer,” Luke says. “Sebastian, this is Troy—he’s my roommate. This is Noah and Noah’s husband Finn.”

My eyebrows leap upward for a moment, and the table smirks. Realization dawns.

“I-I saw you on TV,” I admit.

Finn and Noah’s romance was splashed everywhere.

“Finn likes the attention,” Noah says lightly.

Finn pinches Noah’s cheek. “I’m romantic.”