TEAM BUILDING.

Two words. Twelve letters. Two hours of hell.

“We’re going to be doing some icebreaker activities,” Brady announces to the room. She sounds as enthusiastic as I feel; I know she doesn’t want to do this because she bitched to me about it on the way here. Coach Faulkner is standing by her side, also looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

David Skinner—who is becoming a pain in my ass—wants to see an improvement in the dynamic between our two groups. Brady told me Skinner happened to drop in when Ruhi, one of the younger solo skaters, was arguing with one of the hockey guys for interrupting her skate. Skinner got to witness Ruhi’s creative use of hockey-based insults.

So now, we’re team building.

What a great use of time I could be spending doing anything else. I may as well throw out my planner since nobody seems to give a shit about my routine anymore.

Faulkner clears his throat, looking to Brady for guidance. He looks out of place anywhere that isn’t an ice rink, and if I wasn’t so miserable about being stuck in the awards room again, I’d probably find it funny.

“I’m sure all of you have heard of speed dating,” Brady says. “My skaters, you’re going to each sit at a table. Hockey team, you will move from table to table every five minutes.”

“A reminder: this is not real dating,” Faulkner bellows, finally saying something. “The goal is to get to know each other better. Discuss your aspirations, your hobbies, your dog’s name, I don’t care, but keep it

respectful. Hughes, Hudson, Carter, and Johal, to be clear, I’m specifically talking to you four.”

The four guys each pretend to be shocked, gaining a laugh from the rest of their teammates.

“This is a joke.” Aaron groans. “We’re not kids.”

As much as it pains me to agree with Aaron, I sort of do. He’s been on his best behavior for the past three weeks, and he’s been an absolute dream to be with. He even treated me and Brin to dinner at Aiko, a fancy Japanese restaurant I wouldn’t be able to afford otherwise.

He seems to have turned things around and I’m so grateful. I haven’t seen Ryan a lot because he’s been spending a lot of time with Olivia, but when he does come over, Aaron has been nice. I try to see the positives so Aaron doesn’t get grumpy. “It might be fun. Some of them are nice.”

I have the softest soft spot for Henry Turner, one of the sophomores on the hockey team. I was stressing over my corporate social responsibility essay in the library when he approached me, sporting a worried look. He introduced himself, explaining he was on the team and he’d heard what happened. He said he couldn’t tell me too much, but he wanted to explain.

Then he proceeded to tell me everything about everyone.

Henry started with explaining that Nathan put an end to the prank traditions the minute he became captain. He promised there was nothing the team—including Nathan—could have done to prevent this disaster.

Russ, the impregnator—or not impregnator as it turns out—has a difficult home life, which he’s managed to escape by working exceptionally hard to get a full-ride scholarship.

Nathan knew that if people found out, Russ might lose his scholarship, and with his parents being unable to cover his tuition, he’d have no choice but to head back to the life he’s worked so hard to get away from. Nathan didn’t even trust his own team with the information, that’s how protective he is of Russ, despite his indiscretions.

Henry wanted me to know that Russ isn’t some cocky trust fund kid, he’s quiet and tries to keep out of trouble, and Henry can relate to that because he’s the same. He didn’t make any friends freshman year; even though he’s from Maple Hills, college was overwhelming for him.

He hated dorms but without friends to live with, he was going to have to stay on or move home. Nathan offered him a room in their house, even though a sophomore living with seniors is unheard of on their team. That

was his basis for telling me how much of a good guy his captain is, and while I’m mad now, I should try to give him a chance.

After telling me gossip about all the team members I don’t know yet, he finished off his speech by telling me I was the most beautiful figure skater he’d ever seen. He quickly followed that by clarifying he meant my performance, not my appearance, and that when I’m not landing on my ass or looking like a baby giraffe, my performance is exceptional.

And if I wasn’t enamored with him enough, he bought me a coffee and helped me study.

Brady claps her hands to get us all moving. I take a seat on the other side of the room to Aaron. He might be being friendly at the moment, but it doesn’t mean I want to have him listening in on my conversations.

I can do five-minute conversations, right? That’s only two and a half minutes each. I can talk about myself for that long. It’s going to be fine.

I think.

My first date takes a seat in front of me, immediately making me feel relaxed with a huge smile. His buzz cut is bleached blond, the golden-brown skin of his arms is covered in intricate black tattoos, which I can see because the second he sat down, he rolled up his sleeves and winked at me. His jawline is covered in short stubble and he has a small silver nose ring. He looks like the type of guy you could get into heaps of trouble with, but in a good way.

He holds out a hand for me to shake, which feels oddly formal. “Jaiden Johal, but you can call me JJ.”

This feels awkward, but I go for it anyway. “Anastasia Allen. Stassie is fine too.”

“Oh, I’m more than aware of who you are. I make it my mission to know any woman that puts Nate Hawkins in his place. I’m a big fan.”

I’m blushing, great. “Thanks? I think. Tell me about yourself. We’ve gotta fill five minutes somehow.”

The room is filled with the sound of people chatting, which is a positive sign. JJ stretches out his legs, getting comfortable in his seat. “I’m twenty-one. I’m a Scorpio sun, moon, and rising. I’m from Nebraska, which if you’ve ever been to Nebraska, you’ll know there is nothing to fucking do.” He rubs his palm against his face, pausing to think of what to say next. “I play defense, I’m going to San Jose Marlins when I graduate, I hate pickles.

Faulkner said we weren’t allowed to talk about sexual stuff, so I don’t know what else to say.”

Looking at the clock on my phone, we’ve covered ninety seconds.

“I’m twenty-one. I’m from Seattle, I’m an only child, I work at Simone’s Rink. I’ve been figure skating since I was a kid, always pair skating, and I’ve been skating with Aaron since freshman year.” I shift in my seat uncomfortably, wishing JJ was still talking about himself. “Our goal is Team USA, we wanna be at the next Olympics.” Why is this so hard? “I study business. You wanna know my big three?”

He nods enthusiastically. “Obviously.”

“Virgo sun and rising, cancer moon.” He hisses and shakes his head immediately. “What?”

“Cancer moon. Red flag.” “From the triple Scorpio?”

Jaiden holds up his hands defensively, widening his hazel eyes. “I’ll have you know we are incredibly misunderstood.”

Looking at the clock again, we’ve got one minute left. “Sixty seconds.

Anything else?”

He rubs his hands together in a way that makes me worried about what he’s about to ask. “Would you rather…have a fish head but your body, or would you rather have your head but a fish body?”

At least thirty seconds pass where I stare at him, unable to formulate a response. He taps at the watch on his wrist. “Tick tock, Stassie. Time’s almost up.”

“I don’t know.”

“Ten, nine, eight, seven…”

“Fish head with my body. I think. God, that’s disgusting to visualize.”

“Great choice,” he praises, looking satisfied with my answer. Brady blows her whistle, indicating for everyone to switch. He winks at me again and I’m definitely blushing. “I hope to see more of you soon.”

Time flies as each guy sits at my table before moving on. Three freshmen asked for my number, a guy called Bobby spent our five minutes talking about a girl instead of himself, and when a guy called Mattie realized we’re on the same course, he spent five minutes asking me to explain our latest assignment and writing the answers on his phone.

Robbie approaches my table when the whistle blows, and it’s nice to see someone I kind of know. “Anastasia.”

“Robbie. Fancy meeting you here.”

Sabrina and Robbie might be a thing, I’m not sure. She’s not even sure. The second she found out we’d be team building together, I was given strict instructions to find out. “How are you?”

“I’m good. I’m hoping you’re going to spend the next four minutes and

—” he looks at his watch, “—twenty-eight seconds talking about your roommate.”

She’s gonna lose her mind when I get home. It’s the easiest four minutes of my life; Brin is an open book, what you see is what you get. Talking about her to someone else is easy, because she likes everything and she’s the most loving and supportive friend ever.

I’m ashamed to say, Joe and Kris are very funny and had me slapping my hand over my mouth to stop laughing, which is so annoying because I had no intention of adding other hockey players to my approved list.

It was going to be Henry only, forever.

Ten minutes of laughing was well-timed, because I’m in a good mood when Russ sits at my table.

It feels pointless describing hockey players at this point, because the only word that ever comes to mind is big. Russ is no different, but the one thing that sets him apart from his friends is his baby face. Unlike the rest of the team, there is no stubble in sight. His eyes are big and soft—like a puppy.

I’ve never noticed before, but I’ve also never seen him up close. He looks nervous as hell, too, and I think back to what Henry told me about him being a quiet guy. “I’m Stassie. Russ, right?”

He nods, the tips of his ears reddening. “Yeah. It’s nice to meet you. Do you wanna talk about yourself or something? I don’t have anything interesting to tell you.”

Oh, Russ, why did you have to be like a timid animal when I want to be mad at you?

I launch into the same spiel I’ve given every other guy; he asks followup questions that keep me talking, and by the time the whistle goes and he’s moving on, I still don’t know anything about him. “It was nice to meet you,” he says gently as he leaves.

The activity is nearly over, and I’m incredibly annoyed that it’s sort of had the desired effect. It’s hard to begrudge letting the guys share the rink after you’ve heard all about their aspirations and motivations.

I mean, I said it’s hard. It’s not impossible.

Through the process of elimination, I know I’ve only got two people left. My social battery is wavering, but I try to push through, because I know it’s worth it when Henry drops himself into the seat in front of me.

“This is unnecessary, isn’t it?” he mutters, placing his elbows on the table to rest his head in his hands. “Why do I need to know what someone’s childhood pet is called or when their birthday is? The only person who cares about that information is a hacker. And I don’t even like computers.”

I’m in shock.

During the few one-on-one encounters we’ve had, Henry was calm and so laid back he was practically horizontal. It appears Skinner has found the thing to get under his skin—forced socialization.

“Please don’t tell me about your pets, Anastasia,” he begs, brushing his hand over his short, auburn curls, sighing heavily. “I don’t have the energy to pretend to care.”

“You wanna sit in silence? You only have one more person after me.

You can have a little pre-finale break.” “That’s a good idea, thanks.”

Henry shuts his eyes and I have no choice but to just watch him have a micronap. I feel like a creep, but equally, what else am I supposed to do? He could go into modeling if hockey doesn’t work out for him. Perfectly symmetrical face, smooth, glowy brown skin, the most defined cheekbones I’ve ever seen on a man. He’s beautiful.

“I can feel you staring at me. Can you stop?”

I’m glad he keeps his eyes closed, that way he can’t see the very aggressive shade of red my face turns. Brady’s whistle blows and Henry struts off with only a glance in my direction.

There’s only one person I haven’t faced yet and it’s the one person I’ve been dreading. He takes forever—or what feels like forever, at least—to take a seat. He’s in a Maple Hills Titans T-shirt and gray sweats, and I hate myself for being a woman swayed by a man in gray sweatpants. Shit. No, there will be no swaying.

“Hi,” he says cheerfully. “I’m Nathan Hawkins.” “You’re playing it like that, are you?”

He ignores my questions and quirks an eyebrow. “And you are?”

“Nathan, what are you doing?” I ask, folding my arms and leaning back in my seat. He mirrors me, folding his own arms. To an outsider, we

probably look like the least approachable table, which to be fair, we might be.

“We’re starting over. Everyone loves a fresh start, right? Let’s have one.

You can’t stay mad forever.”

“I was planning to stay mad longer than forever, so I feel like you’re massively underestimating me.” He starts laughing and I don’t know what to do with myself, because my face is fighting to smile too.

Damnit.

“Your commitment to the cause is admirable, Allen,” he teases. “I already know you’re a figure skater, you’re studying business, and you’re from Seattle. I’ve found out that you can be terrifying, but you can also be sweet.” My eyebrows immediately shoot up, confused, so he clarifies. “To Henry, not to me.”

“Henry has been nice to me.”

His face sinks a little, the charming façade slipping. “I want to be nice to you. Look, I’m sorry I lied to you. My hands were tied and I had to put Russ first. I honestly do want to be your friend, Anastasia.”

“I know, I get it. You don’t know me, can’t trust me or whatever, and that’s fine. I understand that, but I tried to share how I was feeling so you could see my side, and you immediately brushed it off as an overreaction.”

I feel naïve sharing this, but I’ve had enough therapy in my life to know I should try to communicate my feelings. Well, when I’m not being petty. People keep telling me Nathan is a good guy, so I’m giving him the opportunity to be one.

“I can see why that would make you want to stay away from me.” His hand sinks into his hair, tugging with what looks like annoyance at himself. “I’m sorry, it’s not okay that I did that. Can we start again?”

Brady’s whistle blows for the final time, but he doesn’t move. He waits for me to answer, his brown eyes practically staring into my freaking soul.

“You’re on probation.”

Heat creeps back to my cheeks when he gives me the brightest smile. “I’m gonna nail it.”

“You better.”

Shit, shit, shit.