Page 73 of With the Assist

“No,” I say quickly, flipping the screen over. It’s a group chat notification. I relax, then feel foolish for doing so.

“Text him,” Harper says again. “You don’t have to make a move. Just open the door a little.”

I stare at the screen, thinking of the way he looked at me on the ice. His attention had felt hot against my skin.

I type before I can overthink it.

Me: How was Thanksgiving?

Wanting to talk to him doesn’t have to mean anything. I text my friends all of the time.

Nathan: Not much of a holiday since we’re in season. You?

My heart kicks when he responds right away like he always does. Just friendly excitement.

Me: I celebrated with my family last weekend. Celebrating with the girls tonight.

Nathan: What’re you thankful for?

It’s a loaded question. I’ve been teetering on the line between flirty and serious since we met, and it feels like I’m about to fall off one side of it.

Me: Still thinking about it. You?

Nathan: You messaging me. I’m stuck watching game tape, and fuck, it’s boring.

I smile despite myself. He wants to talk to me, too. That knowledge makes me feel a bit too giddy.

Me: I love watching film. It helps you get better.

Nathan: Of course you do.

Me: Maybe if you paid attention, you’d fix your backhand.

Nathan: Seriously, you can’t talk dirty to me like that.

I roll my eyes. This man can’t go five seconds without flirting with me.

Me: That’s what you call talking dirty?

Nathan: Not even fucking close, Miller. Why? Thinking about finding out for yourself?

Me: No

Yes.

Nathan: We’ll stick with your kind of dirty talk then.

Nathan: You would love watching hockey tape. So. Much. Pausing.

Avery leans over to read. “He’s flirting.”

“I know,” I say.

Harper clicks her tongue.

I hesitate, then type.

Me: Lucky you that I messaged then.