Page 18 of Slapshot Kiss

"Wouldn't dream of it."

He holds my gaze for one second longer than the conversation requires. Then he nods, once, and moves past me down the corridor.

I don't turn around.

I stand there until his footsteps fade, then I exhale through my nose and stare at the wall in front of me for a moment.

Coach Brennan's daughter.

Right.

I hitch my stick back up and keep walking.

3

QUINN

A Hotshot with a Seductive Grin

The coffee shop on Beverly is Riley’s choice, which means it’s one of those places where the lattes cost twelve dollars and come with artful foam designs that make me feel vaguely guilty for drinking them.

But the light is good, the chairs are comfortable, and apparently there’s enough room between the tables for Riley’s stroller, which I’m beginning to suspect was the real deciding factor.

Molly is asleep beside us, one tiny fist curled against her cheek, completely oblivious to the fact that her mother has already ordered for both of us by the time I slide into the booth across from her.

“You look like you haven’t slept.” Riley pushes a cup toward me. “And I don’t mean that in a mean way. I’ve been there.”

Her eyes flick briefly toward the stroller.

“Although lately I mean that very literally.”

I smile despite myself. “I slept fine.”

"Uh-huh." Riley takes a measured sip of her own drink.

Her eyes do that thing they did, scanning me like a book she's reading but hasn't yet figured out how it ends. "Then why are you here at nine in the morning? I know you hate this part of town because you’ve told me that approximately seventeen times."

"I like your company."

"You like my company when I'm bringing you leftovers from Easton's team dinners. Not when it means getting stuck in LA traffic before noon."

I open my mouth. Close it. She's right and we both know it.

"Quinn." Her voice is quiet and steady and underneath it is something that sounds a lot like concern. "You've been staring at that coffee for a full minute without drinking it. And I know you. You drink coffee like it's a competitive sport, so either you're trying to tell me something, or you're trying very hard not to."

I sigh and finally take a sip. The latte is perfect. Of course it is. Riley has a talent for knowing exactly what people need before they know it themselves.

"Something happened last night," I say, before I can talk myself out of it.

"Something good or something bad?"

"I don't know yet."

Riley's eyebrows lift slightly. "That doesn't sound very Quinn-y. You always know. So what’s up?"

There's no point hiding it. I set my cup down and tell her.

The carnival, the Ferris wheel, the panic attack, the thing I said out loud that I will be taking to my grave, and then the kiss, and then the sidewalk outside my building and exactly what I said there too.