Page 46 of Switching Skates

“Daphne! What’s wrong?” Mason bursts into my room as my shriek tears through the early morning air.

“What is itdoing?!” I gesture to my crotch and the erected blanket pointing into the air. “Get rid of it!”

Mason falls back against my bedroom door as laughter begins bubbling out of him.

He bends over, holding his stomach as he continues to find my uncomfortable situation hilarious. “Oh my God.”

I cross my arms and stare at him until he finally settles down. “That is not helping. At. All.”

He waves his arms in front of him as he catches his breath. “I’m sorry. This is just …” He shrieks. “The best moment of my entire life.”

“Oh,is it?” I snap snarkily, fighting the smile tugging at my lips. “Because it’s theworstmoment of mine.”

Mason straightens up, giggles still bursting free, as he kicks one leg up behind him against the door. “It’ll go away. Just give it a few minutes. And, uhhh, don’t touch it.”

“Oh, thanks, genius, because my first thought was to stroke it!” I shout at him, thankful that Maeve is at Jackson’s so she doesn’t witness or hear this entire thing.

“Were you having some good dreams or what?” He smirks, covering his mouth with his palm.

Come to think of it … yeah, I was.

Ones that I’m certainly not disclosing to him.

Where we were in our respective bodies and he fucked me on the porch swing out back under the stars. I mean, Jesus, the way he was devouring me wasintoxicating.

Get it together.

I think it was more of a nightmare. I can’t help it how my body reacts to the thought of him. At least in my usual body, there aren’t signs that give away my every dirty thought.

“Nope. None,” I state a bit too enthusiastically.

“Whatever you say.” He smiles. “I’ll leave you alone for a few minutes. Please don’t forget, I—you—have that scrimmage today. And we’re going to need to prepare.”

“Mason,” I exhale, nerves already beginning to eat me alive at the thought.

“You can do it. We’ll go to the rink early, and I can show you what you need to know. My body and—fingers crossed—my muscle memory will do the rest,” he says with confidence, as if either of us can even begin to understand what’s happening, let alone try to predict anything.

“Please.” His eyes soften, and my heart melts at his tone.

Grabbing a pillow and squishing it against my face, I groan, “Fiiiine.”

“You’re the best!” He opens the door as I remove the pillow. “Be ready in, like, thirty minutes. I’ll make us breakfast.”

“Add extra gluten to mine, please!” I shout as he walks into the hallway.

“Just for you, Sunset,” he calls back, and I hate the way I swoon at the use of the nickname.

Something twitches beneath the blanket, and a bolt of pleasure shoots through my body.

Oh God, I’m not even allowed to think about him in that way without my body betraying me and reacting so noticeably.

No more thinking about Mason. Or how hot he is. Or how sweet he is.

It twitches again.

Oh God, I need to stop.

Mason whips up a big, fluffy omelet, hash browns, and a side of bacon.