Kat

“Dean Crawford is coming here to hang out with us?” Becca holds her hand up to her mouth, her eyes wide in shock.

I shrug, staring around the game room to make sure no one overheard her outburst. “Stop turning it into a big deal.”

“But he’s so hot. He waited for you after our game. I mean seriously, Kat, how did you get him to ask you out?”

“Dean didn’t ask me out.” I sigh at her words. “He wanted to know what I was doing tonight, and I told him we would probably come here like we always do.”

“I hope Dean brings one of his teammates with him. Then, we can double date.” She pushes her dark curls behind her ears and gives me a dreamy look.

Dean has this effect on all women. I must’ve thrown him for a loop with how I acted. I did it on purpose to mess with his mojo. For my entire life, I have dealt with puck bunnies and skanky women lusting over my dad, and now my older brothers. I wasn’t about to do the same thing to Dean.

“It’s not a date,” I correct for what feels like the hundredth time since I told Becca about Dean beckoning me earlier.

“That was not an invitation to dinner, more like a casual gesture among friends. Dean would never see me as more than a friend.”

“Get out of here, Kat.” Becca sinks into the plush fabric that lines the bench along the windowsill and leans against the wall to get comfortable. “He made the first move. I wouldn’t be so sure about the two of you being friends.”

Even if I wanted to get my hopes up for more, there’s no way I would date someone with his reputation.

“You would be the talk of the campus if you dated Dean Crawford.”

“I already am the talk of the campus.” I sit next to her on the ledge and glance around the room for Dean. “At least once a week I have someone ask me for my autograph as if I am an extension of my famous family. You should see the stares I get from the guys on this campus. It’s creepy. Dean was no different. He’s another fan.”

“You don’t know that.” Her smile reaches her eyes, directing my attention to the cause of her reaction. Dean.

Flanked by two of his teammates, Dean strolls toward us. His broad shoulders and thick chest fill out the black sweater that’s plastered to his muscular frame. Dark jeans hang low from his narrow hips and hug every curve of his body as if made for him.

I shouldn’t have these thoughts about Dean. He’s the campus bad boy. I avoid men like him on purpose. But for some reason, I don’t think he would break my heart. Not that I want to get that close to him, but still, I saw something in Dean earlier. That something is what made me lower my guard and invite him here tonight.

“You showed,” I say, hopping down from the windowsill to meet him.

“Of course, I did.” He motions toward the guy on his right and then left. “Do you know Ryan and Killian?”

I hold out my hand for each of them to shake.

Ryan Nash and Killian Cade are just as legendary at Strickland University as Dean. Ryan and Killian are both juniors who already had a serious puck bunny reputation before Dean made the varsity team. I guess manwhores travel in packs. Dean must be their alpha.

“Hey,” Dean says, clutching my waist. He pulls me into him and kisses me on the cheek.

And I thought my brothers were lovey. Still, they are family, and Dean is a complete stranger. Maybe Becca is right about this being a date. I have no idea how to react to Dean.

My brothers were so overprotective that I never had many dates. I mostly kept my head in my books and played hockey. Any chance at a social life was killed by Duke or Austin the second they found out a boy was interested in me. I always had Becca, though. We moved from Chicago to Philadelphia together to play for the Senators. College is our fresh start.

Like me, Becca has an overbearing family. Her parents are super religious and never let her do anything. Between her parents and my brothers, we mostly stuck to ourselves. Spending so much time away from boys and all the drama that come with them allowed both of us to improve our game. And who better than to teach us than my dad?

Dean’s eyes travel over my body as he releases me from his grip. “You look different out of uniform. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“Um…okay.”

“I mean that in the best way possible,” he adds. “It was supposed to be a compliment.”

“You suck at this,” I tell him with laughter in my voice.

He chuckles. “I never had a girl as a friend before. All of this is new to me.”

My heart plunges into my stomach. But I quickly rebound from Dean’s comment. No way will I allow him to see the effect his words have on me.

“I’m glad I will be your first,” I say.

“Me, too.” The corners of his mouth turn up into a smile.

“Now that you’ve popped your girlfriend cherry, do you want to play some air hockey?”

He lifts the strikers from the vacant air hockey table and hands one to me. “I’m not going easy on you, Kitten.”

No one has called me Kitten in years. I love the way it sounds coming from Dean’s mouth. A beat passes between us where I stare into his denim irises, studying his olive skin and flawless features. If you overlook the scar under his right eyebrow, Dean is perfect in every way.

Dean rakes his hand through his short, black hair that has a slight curl at the ends, and waits for me to respond. Lost in his looks, I forgot we were supposed to play air hockey. My ability to become his friend dwindles by the minute. I’ve had plenty of friends that were boys, most of them by association with my brothers.

We take our places at each end of the table, staring down at each other. There’s a palpable energy between us, an electric pulse that creeps into my bones with each stolen glance in Dean’s direction. But he wants to be friends.