I blink awake seeing sunshine sneaking past the blinds. The warmth of the bed is cozy as I turn my head, taking in the sight of Dakota beside me. His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm with the quiet sound of his breathing. He's sprawled out, boxer briefs clinging to his hips, and damn it if he doesn't look like a Greek god.
Last night was amazing with the way his hands explored every curve of my body and the intensity in his hazel eyes as he looked at me. That was a damn good way to break my two-year long dry spell.
What's the protocol here? Do I wake him with a kiss or slip away like Cinderella minus the glass slipper drama?
I opt for stealth mode, gently untangling myself from the sheets and tiptoeing across his room. For a split second, I have a notion that I’m not just leaving the room; I’m trying to escape what happened. No, I can't think like that. I just don’t know how to navigate post-hookup awkwardness.
Finally, I make it back to my own room and head straight for the shower. As hot water cascades over me, I scrub away the remnants of last night, willing my brain to switch off. Acting like nothing happened seems like the best play. After all, isn't that what Dakota would do? Mr. Laidback Hockey Star who probably sees this as just another notch on his stick.
Steam still swirls around me as I step out of the shower and wrap myself in a towel. My curls cling to the nape of my neck, still dripping wet. I'm startled by the buzz of my phone against the bathroom counter.
Marina: Ready to brave the world for some coffee? Meet me by the stairs?
Me: Give me 5.
I dress quickly, opting for comfort in a soft tee and denim shorts. Slipping into sandals, I grab my phone and take a deep breath before stepping into the hallway.
Silence greets me first, then Marina's impish grin as we convene at the top of the stairs. We exchange a look that says 'let's not talk about it,' and descent to the kitchen. We pause at the base of the stairs to see another well-defined muscular guy casually leaning against the kitchen island.
"Good morning," he says with a deep voice. His intense gray eyes scan us briefly.
"Morning," I manage, feeling a blush rise to my cheeks. It's one thing to deal with Dakota, quite another to meet his roommate in this awkward morning-after atmosphere.
He extends a hand, introducing himself with a firm shake. "I'm Kaleb, Dakota's roommate. He sent me a text last night letting me know to expect guests."
"Harmony," I say.
"Marina," my friend chimes in beside me.
Kaleb nods, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.
"Want some coffee?" Kaleb offers, already reaching for mugs and filling the first cup.
"Please, we were about to go out and find some, but the sooner caffeine gets into my body, the better," I reply, wrapping my hands around the warm ceramic as he hands it to me.
The sound of footsteps echoes from the stairs, and then there's Dakota in just shorts, no shirt. The sight of him makes my core tighten.
"Good morning," he says, voice still husky from sleep as he strides over to me. Before I can respond, his arm is around my waist, pulling me closer, and I'm suddenly very aware of every place our skin connects. His lips press against my cheek in a kiss that's far too intimate for a room that isn't just ours.
"Morning," I reply, a little breathless, trying to act like I get good morning kisses from half-naked hockey players all the time.
From the corner of my eye, I catch Marina exchanging a look with Kaleb. It's the kind of look that doesn't need words, that says they're both fully aware of the way Dakota's sheets were tangled between us a few hours ago.
Trying to ignore the prickling awareness on my skin where Dakota's lips had been, I take a sip of my coffee.
We gravitate toward the kitchen island bar stools to sit. Marina hops onto one, while I take my place beside her.
"Okay, tell us something interesting about yourselves," Kaleb says, leaning back against the counter.
Marina goes first, "I'm a marine biologist. Octopuses are my favorite—they're basically the geniuses of the ocean."
Kaleb nods, clearly impressed. “I’m Canadian and play hockey with Dakota. The guys call me Viking.”
"Nice." Dakota's turn brings a roguish grin. "I've played hockey since I was three. And yes, before you ask—I do have all my teeth." He flashes a perfect smile.
Their eyes turn to me. "Well, I'm Harmony, a meteorologist," I say, tucking a stray curl behind my ear and hoping my profession sounds at least half as cool.
Settling into Dakota's world, with its open spaces and the constant sound of waves crashing in the distance, I sense a shift inside me—an intrigue. It's different from my structured life. Here, it feels like spontaneity rules, and it's different. I like it.
"Your turn, Harmony. Tell us something else about you," Dakota challenges.
"Let’s see…" I sip my coffee, buying time. "I guess... I play the violin. Not exactly rock star material, but it's my secret skill."
"See? Full of surprises," he teases, and there's warmth in his tone.
Marina laughs, breaking the moment. "This is like some kind of alternate universe breakfast club."
"Except with more coffee and less detention," Kaleb adds, earning chuckles from all of us.
The sound of a ringtone cuts through the laughter, and Marina frowns, checking her phone. "Sorry, guys, I need to take this," she says, slipping out through the sliding glass doors onto the porch.
Kaleb leans against the counter, arms crossed. “So, Harmony, what do you think so far of this little chance encounter? Crazy? Fun? Or just plain weird?”
I chuckle softly. “A mix of all three, I’d say. You guys are like living characters in a sports movie.”
Dakota grins as he fills his own mug. “Just wait until you see us in action on the ice. That’s when it really gets interesting.”
“Speaking of which,” Kaleb pipes in, “we’re heading into playoffs soon. Big deal for us.” He raises an eyebrow at Dakota, who nods in agreement.
“Yeah! This is where things get intense,” Dakota adds. “No more messing around. We’ve gotta be on our game.”
“What makes playoffs different? Marina is the one that knows all about hockey. I only know the basics,” I admit.
“Well, it’s not just about skill; it’s about tradition too. Like the whole no-shaving thing.” Kaleb smirks, the corners of his lips lifting slightly.
I tilt my head slightly. “Yeah, I’ve seen something about that. What is it that you actually do?”
Dakota laughs and runs a hand through his messy hair. “Yup! It’s a tradition where players don’t shave their facial hair during playoffs. It’s supposed to bring good luck and team spirit.”
Kaleb nods in agreement, his expression turning serious for a moment. “It symbolizes that we’re all in this together and willing to endure discomfort for a common goal. Plus,” he adds with a hint of humor in his voice, “have you seen some of our playoff beards? They’re legendary.”
“Legendary might be an understatement,” Dakota chimes in with a laugh. “Kaleb here is the true Viking look-alike and looks like he’s been lost at sea for weeks by the end of it.”
I giggle at the image they paint—hockey players morphing into lumberjacks mid-season. “Do you actually buy into that superstition?”
Kaleb shrugs casually. “I guess it becomes part of our identity during playoffs. You grow attached to your beard; it’s like your battle armor or something.”
“And trust me,” Dakota adds with an exaggerated wink, “you don’t want to mess with hockey players and their rituals. It gets… hairy.”
“Ha!” I exclaim, laughing and shaking my head.
Kaleb leans closer to me over the counter and lowers his voice. “You know what else we do? We wear our lucky socks and eat specific foods before games—some guys even wear the same underwear throughout playoffs.”
“What? That’s disgusting.” I look at Dakota. “Tell me you don’t do that.” Before he can answer, Marina walks back in.
There is a look on her face that lets me know the call was not a pleasant one.
"Everything okay?" I ask concerned.
She shakes her head, taking a seat next to me at the bar. "It was my supervisor," Marina starts. "There might be some big funding cuts coming our way. It could affect the entire marine biology project."
A collective silence settles over us.
"Damn," Dakota finally breaks the silence, "that sucks."
"Anything we can do to help?" Kaleb asks, and I'm touched by the genuine concern in his voice.
Marina forces a smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "Thanks, guys. I'll figure something out."