The kettle whistles, snapping me out of the daze I’ve been in for the past fifteen minutes. Taking the kettle off the burner, I give my head a quick shake, trying to refocus my brain on what I should be thinking about—the article I’m supposed to be writing.
The last thing I ever expected was for my date with Jordie to go so well. Like really well. Like can’t stop thinking about it and getting hot and bothered well. Which is a huge problem, given the fact that I don’t date hockey players, even though I went on a date with one last night. But that doesn’t count. I was just fulfilling my duties as the fill-in ice princess, right? He won the date fair and square, and who am I to go against decades of tradition?
really can’t stop thinking about it and getting hot and botheredCrap. I’m not eve
