“Kona Skatepark,” Conor confirms. “You been there before?”

“A few times. My ex”—Lord, it’s still so weird saying that—“was friends with a lot of skaters. Have you ever been to Florida?” I ask him.

“Nah, I’m a West Coast boy.”

“California?”

Conor nods. “Huntington Beach.”

“Never been,” I admit.

“You should come visit me this summer. I’ll show you around.”

Hunter rolls his eyes. “Watch out, Semi. He’s making his move.”

“I’m not making any moves,” protests Conor. “I’m just sitting here like a good little boy, playing my game.” He presses a few buttons on his controller, then gives me a cocky smile. “Unless you want me to make a move?”

I think it over. “Maybe.”

Hunter makes a grouchy noise. “Demi. I think I’m gonna have to cut you off.”

“I’ve literally had one shot!”

“And it’s clearly clouded your judgment if you’re openly flirting with this dumbass.”

On the bed, Andrea overhears him and giggles. “Um. You can’t not flirt with Conor Edwards. He just brings out that side in women.”

“What about me?” Matt complains, and I notice they’ve inched so close to each other they’re practically cuddling. “What side do I bring out in you?”

She whispers something in his ear. Matt chuckles in response, and I lose interest.

Conor passes the controller to Hunter, who leans forward and rests his forearms on his thighs. His forehead creases in concentration as his player performs a series of kick flips. I don’t recognize this next course, and to be honest my patience threshold for watching video games has officially exceeded its limit.

Meanwhile, I don’t miss that Conor has moved closer to me. He smells good, like sandalwood and citrus soap. His hair’s slightly damp from the shower he must’ve taken after the game. He’s wearing a T-shirt and cargo shorts, and he’s barefoot.

A perpetually high body temperature must be a hockey player thing—Hunter stripped out of his hoodie almost the second we arrived at the party, leaving him in his trademark white wife-beater.

“So.” Conor sounds thoughtful. “We’ve established that you want me to make a move.”

“I said maybe,” I remind him. Coyly.

“’Kay… What’ll it take to turn the maybe into a hell yes?”

“I don’t know. Make me an offer and let’s see what happens.”

“Hmmm.” His long fingers travel up my sleeve and toy with a strand of my hair. “How ’bout the best sex of your life?”

Hunter snorts. His focus remains on the screen.

“What else you got?” I lightly rest my hand on Conor’s knee, and this time Hunter’s gaze flicks over.

“How about the best massage of your life?”

“Dude, you gotta stop using superlatives. Only sets you up for failure.” Hunter tosses the controller in Conor’s lap. “You’re up. I have to take a leak.” He staggers to his feet and ducks into the bathroom.

Conor doesn’t start a new game. Rather, he sets the controller on the floor and angles his body toward mine. His silvery eyes glint knowingly. “So, you and the captain have a thing going on?”

“We kissed a couple times,” I confess, my tongue loosened by the whiskey. “But he doesn’t want to do anything more.”

“Ah right. The vow of celibacy.”

“Yep.”

“Is this why you’re hitting on me?” He cocks his head, and his lips are curved in a mocking smile. “You’re hoping he’ll be jealous enough to cave?”

“I’m not hitting on you.”

“Let’s not do that.”

“Do what?”

“Lie to each other.” Chuckling, Conor captures my chin with his thumb and forefinger, forcing eye contact. “You want my help or not?”

My throat goes dry. I swallow a few times, but it doesn’t help. “You think we can get to him?”

“Baby,” he drawls. “I can get to anyone.”

 

 

27

 

 

Hunter

 

 

When I step out of the bathroom, Demi and Conor are still on the couch, but Matt and Andrea are gone. I’m not particularly thrilled about Demi and Con’s proximity to each other. She’s sitting so close to him she might as well be in his lap.

I can’t say anything, though, because I made my own position clear last week. I told her I just want to be friends. Which means, if she wants to flirt with my teammate, I’d be a real asshole to try to stop her. And I’d be a selfish team captain if I cock-blocked one of my guys.

That’s rule number five thousand, draft three of the captain handbook. Your teammate’s dick comes first.

Despite their blatant flirting, they don’t ask me to leave. And like a chump I don’t leave, despite the fact that I’m very noticeably the third wheel.

Conor murmurs something that makes Demi giggle.

I bristle. “What are you whispering about over there?”

“Nothing. Pass the bottle?” Con holds out his hand.

I look at Demi. Her cheeks are flushed, but whether it’s from too much alcohol consumption, I can’t be sure.

“It’s for me,” Con says knowingly.

I lean over to hand him the whiskey and he takes a swig directly from the bottle.

He hands it back to me, and I take a swig too. Maybe that’s what I need to do—get stupidly drunk. Because it’s inevitable that Demi will find her rebound tonight and if it’s not with Con I’ll eat my hat. And why not? Despite his ladies’ man reputation, I’ve never heard a single woman express she felt used by him or didn’t have a good time.

“So you guys have kissed,” Con says suddenly, his gray eyes fixing on me. “How’d that go?”

Phenomenally. “It was all right,” I say out loud.

Demi’s outraged gasp makes me smile. “Just all right? Fuck off, Monk. My kissing is more than all right. I’m an excellent kisser.” Her eyes dare me to defy her.

“She’s an excellent kisser,” I admit.

She beams at me. “And you want to do it again…?” she prompts.

“Nope.”

Conor snorts. “Damn, dude, you’re no good for a woman’s ego.”

“Trust me, her ego is doing just fine.”

“It is,” Demi confirms. “I’m very confident in my overall awesomeness as a person.”

“Yeah?” Conor has his arm around her now, while the fingertips of his other hand teasingly stroke her bare thigh.

Despite its long sleeves, Demi’s black dress is indecently short. I don’t remember her wearing it at the game. When did she have time to change?

It’s getting hard to breathe. I’m not drunk enough for this. And I’m definitely not drunk enough when Con’s hand slides upward, his knuckles grazing Demi’s right breast on the way to her neck. He starts stroking that, too.

Her breath hitches. “Did you just cop a feel?”