Darkroom: A Moo U Hockey Romance by Kate Willoughby (reading a book .txt) 📕

more interested in value. Expensive things can be worth it, but most times, I think, you can be just as happy with something that doesn’t cost as much.”

This attitude surprised me. I assumed, as the son of a professional athlete, he’d grown up surrounded by largesse. Those guys made millions a year, didn’t they?

“Okay, we have three more questions but I only have that one lucky number, so let’s do eleven times eleven, which is one-twenty-one.”

I referred to the list one more time. “‘Is there anything you wish would come back into fashion?’”

He thought for a moment. “This is going to sound strange, but I wish hats were something guys wore every day, stylish hats like the fedora. I liked that bit of panache they added. I really like how they could be used to show respect.”

“You mean like when cowboys tip their hats?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“You could start a new trend yourself, you know. Just wear a fedora. See what happens.”

He laughed. “Very funny. You don’t know hockey players very well. I would get so much shit from the team if I did that. It wouldn’t be worth it. Besides, you have to be an influencer to start a fashion.”

“You’re probably right.” I leaned back and squinted at him. “But you’d look damn good in a fedora.”

I was rewarded with another one of his supernova smiles.

“What about you?” He stirred his drink with his straw. “What fashion would you like to come back?”

“I like your hat idea, but I already know you want me to come up with my own answer.” I sighed. “You know, I have to say, I kind of wish there was no such thing as fashion and that we could all wear whatever we wanted to.”

This was because the only reason I had outfits that went together was because I saw them in the window or on a mannequin.

“Theoretically, we can,” he said. “But it would never happen.”

“Why not?”

“Humans need to bond with other humans, to form groups. There’s safety in numbers and, back in the caveman days, you were more likely to survive in a group than alone. Dressing like everyone else is part of that. That’s my theory, anyway. So you wish everything would come back into fashion. Is that your answer?”

I looked around the Green Bean and imagined what it would be like if everyone dressed in a fashion vacuum.

I frowned and shook my head. “You know what? No. That would actually probably be too chaotic. Like every day was a comic con. I think our eyes would get tired of all the visual noise. Plus, too much choice makes it harder to choose.”

“Yeah, that’s called choice overload. It’s a phenomenon that we’re covering in my Behavioral Economics class. Lots of options get people to browse, but sometimes fewer choices can get them to buy. Isn’t that crazy? In fact, there’s this big grocery store chain that’s actively working on reducing the number of items they sell, based on studies about choice.”

“That’s really interesting,” I said. “You almost make me want to take an economics class. And that’s saying something.”

His phone alarm went off. “Damn. I need to get going soon. I have practice. We’re electing the team captain today.”

Even though I knew the afternoon couldn’t last forever, my heart sank.

“I had a really good time. I like the way you think, Indi Briscoe.”

“Ditto,” I said. My heart started beating faster as he tilted his head just slightly and leaned forward reaching out with one hand.

I froze.

Was he going to…?

And then he did.

He kissed me. It was brief, over before I even registered the fact that his lips were on mine. But the kiss lasted long enough for me to notice how warm his hand was as it curled around the back of my neck, that he smelled like autumn and coffee and a hint peppery sweat and that my body needed his like Vegas needed gamblers.

Before he pulled away, he touched his forehead to mine gently and let out a sigh that was part regret and part desire.

“I like the way you taste too,” he said in a voice that got me even more riled up. I wanted to feel those words against my skin, with both of us naked or close to, somewhere where we could do all the things that kiss begged us to do.

11

Hudson

As a hockey player, I’m usually highly aware of what’s going on around me, but right now, everything faded into the background and all that registered was the softness of Indi’s lips and how she tasted faintly of chocolate and peanut butter.

She didn’t respond at all at first. It was like kissing a mannequin. For a moment, I thought, okay, there wasn’t any chemistry after all. It happens. But then, she woke up and started to kiss me back and I immediately realized that there was enough chemistry to light a building on fire. She was eager and responsive and I wanted more—a lot more—but I couldn’t go to practice with a hard-on so, with extreme difficulty, I pulled back.

“Can we, ah, finish later tonight after practice? We can go out and grab dinner, my treat. It’s my fault I didn’t allot enough time for this. For some reason, I thought we could bang this out in an hour…”

She touched her full lips with her fingertips and I noticed how elegant her hands were. She had slender fingers and bare nails, short enough to be practical but long enough to be feminine. It was satisfying to my ego that she seemed a little dazed.

“Indi? Dinner?”

“Dinner’s fine,” she said, snapping out of it. “What time?”

“Do you live on-campus?”

She nodded. “In Carter Hall.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven.”

When I got to practice, I didn’t have much time to dress. My locker room stall was next to AJ’s.

“So, how’d the date go?” AJ asked me in a voice pitched so the other guys wouldn’t hear.

“It wasn’t a date.” I started undressing.

“Potato potahto,” AJ said. “How’d it