Chapter 48: Chapter 48

HAYDEN

I didn’t turn the radio on during the drive back.

The car was quiet except for the whisper of the heater and the little clicks from the engine as it settled between stoplights. My hands were light on the wheel, the kind of loose you only get after a game-winning goal or, apparently, after kissing a girl you’ve been thinking about for months.

Every time my brain replayed that soft goodnight at the car door, I felt the same ridiculous floaty rush in my chest.

When I pulled into my lot, I sat there for a full minute, both hands on the wheel, my forehead resting against the back of my knuckles like a moron with a grin he couldn’t control.

Then I laughed out loud, which startled me enough that I finally grabbed my bag and climbed out.

Inside the apartment, Jason was exactly where I expected him, on my couch with one ankle propped on a knee, game controller in hand, a half-empty bag of chips abandoned next to him like a crime scene. He glanced up as the door shut and immediately paused the game.

“Two questions,” he said. “Did you open doors? And did you kiss her?”

I stared at him. “Hello to you, too.”

“Don’t stall the narrative,” he said, pointing the controller at me like a microphone.

“Yes and yes,” I said, dropping my keys into the bowl by the door.

Jason beamed like a proud parent. “A gentleman and a lover boy. We did it.”

I tossed my coat on the chair. “You did nothing. I was the one who went on the date.”

“Excuse me,” he said, hand to his chest. “I chose the blue shirt. That was at least thirty-eight percent of your success.”

I snorted and sank into the opposite end of the couch. “It was the tiramisu. I think that’s what sealed the deal.”

“Obviously,” he said. “How was it? Give me the play-by-play. I want highlights, analytics, advanced stats.”

“Advanced stats?” I raised an eyebrow. “What are you going to do, calculate expected kiss rate?”

“Who knows?" he said solemnly. “Technology is advancing daily.”

I laughed and let my head tip back against the cushion. “It was… good. Like, actually good. We talked the whole time. She made fun of my hoodie addiction, I learned she used to roller skate into trash cans, we argued about whether the campus coffee changes based on who’s behind the counter…”

“It does,” he said immediately.

“Right?” I pointed at him. “I knew it wasn’t just me.”

“Focus, Hayden.”

“We walked after dessert,” I continued, because once I started, it all came rushing back in color and sound and the way her breath fogged in the cold.

“It was freezing, but she didn’t complain. She looked up at the sky like it had done something right just for her. And then back at the car…” I broke off, half-smile spreading before I could stop it. “I kissed her.”

Jason watched me for a second with a look I didn’t get often from him, something soft, almost fond. “You’re gone, man.”

“I’m not gone,” I said automatically, which was a lie so obvious we both ignored it.

He grinned again. “Good. Stay gone. Also, I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks,” I said, and meant it. “I kept thinking I’d overthink it or she would, but it wasn’t like that. We were comfortable with each other, and we had a good time.”

“You both are giving me slow-burn vibes,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Don’t call it that,” I groaned.

“I will absolutely call it that,” he said, unpausing his game for exactly two seconds before pausing it again. “Did you do the chair pull-out thing?”

“Yes.”

“Door?”

“Yes.”

“Car door?”

“Jason…” I groaned.

He chuckled. “Okay, last question. Do you see another date in your future?”

I didn’t even have to think. “Yeah. I want another one… and another after that.”

He nodded, like he’d already known that answer. “Then quit stressing. You did great. Now go to sleep. You’ve got practice and your little heart needs rest.”

“My little heart?” I said, horrified.

He pointed the controller at me again. “Lover boy. I don’t make the rules.”

I stood, grabbed a water from the fridge, and flipped him off as I headed to my room. “You’re unbearable.”

“And yet you come to me for shirt advice,” he called after me.

I shut my door on his triumphant laughter and leaned my forehead against it for a second, smiling like an idiot in the dark.

“Yeah,” I whispered to no one. “Another date.”

My alarm went off at 6:15, and I wanted to throw it across the room. Instead, I rolled out of bed, stretched, and went through the motions, brushing my teeth, tugging on compression gear, and shoving a granola bar in my pocket.

The apartment was quiet now, so that meant Jason had either crashed or fled.

Outside, the air bit my lungs as I jogged the three blocks to the arena, every step shocking me more awake. Inside, the rink smelled like it always did, cold metal, old tape, rubber matting, and faint hints of detergent.

The locker room was half full. Logan had one skate on and one sock, arguing with another teammate about whether a puck could technically be haunted. Ryan was taping his stick and humming aggressively off-key.

“Michaels,” Logan said, spotting me. “You look… weirdly rested.”

Ryan glanced up. “Nah… that’s not it. He looks kinda smug.”

“I’m not smug,” I said, setting my bag down. “I’m just having a good morning.”

“Translation,” Logas said cheerfully, “he had a date.”

The entire room perked up like a pack of wolves that smelled dinner.

“Whoa, whoa,” Ryan said, pointing his roll of tape at me. “You went on a date and didn’t tell the group chat?”

“There is no group chat,” I said.

“There is now,” Logan said, pulling out his phone. “Name ideas?”

“No,” I said, louder. “There will be no chat.”

“‘Hayden’s Heart,’” Logan suggested. “Too much?”

“Kill me,” I muttered, lacing my skates.

Trevor shouldered by, grinning. “Did you at least take her somewhere somewhat fancy?”

“Can all of you get out of my personal life?”

“That’s a yes,” Ryan announced. “Coach, chalk up ten pushups for Michaels for being a gentleman.”

Coach wasn’t in the room, but apparently, my team thought preemptive penalties were funny.

I finished lacing, stood, and rolled my shoulders.

“Alright, Disney princes,” I said, grabbing my stick. “Let’s skate.”