Always Only You by Chloe Liese (z-lib.org).epub

“Don’t even think about it,” he says. “I’ll talk to her myself afterward,
okay?”
I scowl at him. “Fine.”
FOR BURNING WITH A FEVER, REN’S A FLIPPING MACHINE. HE ALREADY SCORED
in the first period, and he looks poised to score another right as we start the
second. I’m wandering my normal haunt near the bench, catching shots with my
phone, tweeting, posting on Instagram, engaging in real time with fans and
sharing their posts, but my eyes are on Ren, and the rest of the players of course,
as much as possible.
Ren streaks after a Wild defender. Right when he could easily crush the guy
against the board, Ren instead deftly swipes the puck free and slips past him
with it glued to his stick. That’s Ren in a nutshell. Classy. Strategic. Solid. Now,
don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen him knock the wind out of a guy against the
boards. I’ve watched him throw a shoulder and shove back. But he never seeks
violence. He never takes the ice like a man with something to prove. He
just plays. Beautifully.
Of all the guys on the team, Ren’s always held my respect the most. He’s a
good person, a dependable athlete, a natural but unassuming leader. Yes, he’s
annoyingly cheery and polite, but I now understand that’s more a choice to
protect his private life, to be a positive presence on the team, than some indicator
of a carefree existence.
Since the evening involving one generous adaptive clothing gift and
excessive amounts of marijuana, I’ve been spending a lot of time trying not to
think about Ren. It’s driving me crazy, but that’s how I work. Ren showed me a
new fascinating side of himself. And when I find something that fascinates me,
it’s hard for me not to devote inordinate time to it.
Except it is a him. And that’s a problem.
Ren soars across the ice, weaving, dodging, that puck forever anchored to his
stick. With his skates on, he’s six foot six, his body powerful, but his grace rivals
a figure skater. Deep in our zone, he works the puck, feinting, teasing, dropping
the biscuit, then flying around the net. Defenders swarm him, their sticks
smacking against his, their bodies diving for checks against the board, but he
evades them every time, like a cat slipping through the narrowest opening in a
door. It shouldn’t be possible. He shouldn’t be so graceful. But he is.
Ren maintains possession of the puck even while double-teamed, then slips it