Page 43 of Rule 2: Never Join a Christmas Dating Show

“It’s fine, Sebastian. Totally fine.”

I chew on my bottom lip. Luke looked miserable when we were sitting next to each other on the bus.

Luke unzips his coat, then hangs it in the closet. He holds out his hand for my coat.

“I’m not sure...”

“Now, Sebastian.”

I unzip my coat and give it to him. His eyes flare as he takes it, his gaze fixed to my chest.

He’s staring at my jersey.

Shit.

A smile plays on his lips, and even though Luke hung his own coat in the closet, he still holds onto my coat, even as snow slides off and drips onto the floor.

“That’s my jersey,” he says finally, his grin wider.

“Um...Is it?”

He chuckles and flings my coat under an armchair, not checking if it lands correctly. It totally does because Luke is nothing if not athletic.

Luke narrows the distance between us. The smile on his lips still spreads, and his eyes, which had seemed dull and guarded before, now dance, as if he’s found himself in the best disco in the world.

Maybe he looks this way in a strip club. My insides twist. God, I shouldn’t have worn this jersey. That was a mistake.

“I-I thought I should wear a jersey to a hockey game,” I say.

“I thought you didn’t like hockey.”

“This is new.”

He shakes his head, his eyes still on the number emblazoned on my chest. His number. His fucking number.

He shakes his head, his succulent lips smirking, and I hate that even now I’m thinking about what his lips might feel like between mine. I hate I’m struggling not to inhale his delicious scent.

I take another step back, hitting the wall again.

Damn it.They need to make hotel rooms bigger.

He stretches out his hands, and my heart sputters, transfixed by the sight of his golden fingers, and the way his pale hair curves over his wrists.

Then he is touching my jersey, pulling the fabric toward himself, as he inspects it. God, is he trying to usher me into his arms? Images of just that flash through my mind.

When I bring myself to look at him, he’s grinning.

He runs his finger along the embossed lettering. “They don’t sell this version, anymore.”

Shit.

“They don’t?” My voice comes out too high, and his eyes dance, like he’s watching a Youtube video of puppies.

He shakes his head. “This was discontinued three years ago. They changed soon after I joined.”

“Oh.”

“Why do you have a limited edition of my jersey?”