Reece fists my jacket back to me after we park, staunchly refusing to be seen entering my place with it around her shoulders. Whatever. The walk up the front stairs from the street parking isn't long. I cranked the heat in the Audi to help keep the blue out of her lips.

Not that I was staring at her lips. Or her hands. She's just a friend, and I want her comfortable.

She stares around at the quaint main lobby area as I lead her to the elevator. A few people spot me, smile, and wave. A few more clap me on the shoulder, congratulate me on tonight's victory.

Cyclones: 4, Swamp Rabbits: 1.

I don't stick around to chat long, though none are really offended. It's a Friday night, and everyone's heading out to the various bars, venues, and live music happening around the borough.

"You have a roommate?" Reece asks as we wait for the elevator.

"No, but several other players on the team live in the same building." I gesture her forward when the doors slide open. "Haart is one floor above me. I think Bower and Johnson are actually neighbors."

I realize she probably doesn't know who those people are as I press the fifth-floor tab. Especially since she doesn't follow hockey. The doors close, and I lean against the wall, arms folded over my chest. "You live with just Kaila?"

"Yeah, there was a third for a bit, but she didn't work out."

"Why's that?"

"Too much drama." Reece wrinkles her nose, making the piercing flash in the light. "She and her on-again-off-again boyfriend would have these huge theatrical fights. Things would get thrown, stuff would get broken."

I laugh. "Sounds like a party."

"Maybe for you, hooligan." Reece gives an exasperated glance.

"Don't knock it 'til you try it," I tease. "Breaking shit can be quite cathartic."

"Uh-huh." She tisks. "Or I'm just not violent."

"Maybe you should get violent." I tease. "I'll gladly volunteer to take a beating from you."

She shakes her head. "You're crazy."

I make a swirling motion with my finger around my temple. "No kidding. You have to be crazy to chase a galvanized piece of rubber around a rink for hours at a time."

That earns me a soft giggle, and I smile.

The elevator comes to a stop. I'm a little stiff as I push off the wall, but not bad. At this point, I welcome the aches as part of a job well done. If my legs don't feel like jelly and my helmet doesn't steam when I take it off, I could have gone harder.

My apartment is the last one at the end of this hallway. I chose it because there's a massive balcony stemming from the living room that affords a glorious view of the skyline. Stepping out onto said balcony permits me to appreciate the nightlife below: color, people, vibrance.

I key the door, drop my wallet, and keyfob on the small table just inside. Then I hang up my jacket, move to take Reece's hoodie.

She shoves her hands in the kangaroo pocket. "I'm good."

"As you like." I drop my hand, yank my own hoodie off and toss it on the gigantic leather sofa. "Make yourself at home."

I head for the kitchen, observe as she inspects my space.

The apartment came pre-furnished. I can't lay claim to any of the tasteful leather and burnished steel that came straight out of GQ. I just liked the open concept that lets me see my living room, the eat-in bar, and the kitchen all at once. Better for parties, that way.

The wall art, however, is all mine. This attracts Reece while I start throwing slices of bread in a buttered skillet and open a can of soup. I smile to myself, watching her head tilt curiously, following the abstract lines and splotches of color. It's different than my usual graffiti style, but I'm glad she's a little moved by it.

I made the guest bedroom into my studio because my guests pass out on the fucking floor after too many beers. I spend a lot of time in there when I'm not at the rink, a PR function, or out shooting the shit with the team. Or finding new ways to add a little more color to Reece's black words.

I went to the Anarchy Café after practice and before the game. I kept my hood up and chin down as I approached the Wall of Expression. I'd been pondering how to alter the phrase for a week, finally coming up with a reply instead of simply warping the words. I had to practically stand on my head to get the mirrored effect I wanted. Still, I was proud of the technicolor retort.

Safer isn't better ;)

"I like this one." Reece finally speaks as I'm putting the finishing touches on our grilled cheese sandwiches.

I glance up.

It's one of my darker pieces, the long canvas slathered with black and austere gray. There's a tiny focal point with a burning green ember. The light illuminates and shapes the blackness so the viewer can see that it isn't black at all but swirling with vines and growth.

Then Reece rises on her tiptoes, a delicate hand reaching up to touch the single slash of color. The hem of her hoodie rises up, showing me the jarring edge of her hip above her jeans, the blackness of tattoo ink overtop. Then the sleeve slides down her wrist, just the smallest amount.

Small, but enough.

The loud clatter of a metal skillet panging off hard ceramic floors startles us both.

"Merde!" I hurry to retrieve it, heart in my ears. My body feels pulled to hers like a magnet, drawn by the marks on her skin. Thank God I already plated the sandwiches.

Reece eyes me warily from the other side of the island. "You alright in there?"

"Fine." I set the pan in the sink with a flourish. "Dinner's ready."

She scoots up to the eat-in bar, brown eyes alight with pleased surprise. I grin, push a gooey cheese sandwich, and a piping bowl of tomato soup her way. Then I set her up with a beer before I all but vault into the seat beside hers.

Glutton, I am, I dig in. Sure, I ate before the game, but there's nothing like hours of skating your ass off to work up an appetite. I at least manage some civility and chew between bites. For Reece's sake.

"It's not poisoned, I promise." I chuckle, finishing off the last bite of my two sandwiches. "See?"

Her hesitance wains as she dips a corner of her sandwich into the soup. "Did you even taste it?"

"Mostly."

She smiles shyly, but her eyes are tight as she chews.

I sip my beer, search her face.

She's still nervous around me, around all of this. I get the feeling that accepting a ride from a newly formed friend isn't something she'd normally do.

"Y'know what?" I set my beer down, clap my hands together. "Let's play a game."

She blinks. "A game?"

"Yes, a game."

Her brows furrow. "You're not about to lock me in a room and have me gouge my own eye out to get the key, are you?"

The bark of laughter is out before I can help it. "You watch too many horror movies." I swivel my barstool to face her more fully, lean my arm on the eat-in bar. "No. Never Have I Ever. I'll go first."

The barest glimmer shines in her eyes. "This should be good."

"Never have I ever," I lean forward to build suspense, "mooned a bus full of nuns on a school field trip."

Laughter bursts out of her before she can attempt a scowl or roll her eyes. Then she blushes, covers the noise with another dip and bite of sandwich. Still snickering, she manages, "I should hope not!"

If I had a tail, I'd be wagging it. "Your turn."

"Hm." She finishes her bite, takes a mouthful of beer. "Never have I ever moonwalked on top of a trolley car in the rain."

"Never have I ever built an entire castle using only cheese."

That earns me another small giggle, and my heart melts.

Reece pauses for only a moment. "Never have I ever done a backflip off of a rhino."

"Wow." I slap the counter good-naturedly. "We have so much in common."

She laughs again. "You're ridiculous."

"I'm fucking hilarious." I correct her. After another sip of beer, I clear my throat. "Alright—more serious. I've never chased and caught fireflies."

"What?" I swear Reece almost falls off her stool. "That's like...my childhood."

"Frigid North." I shrug. "We went trick-or-treating in a foot of snow some years."

Her nose piercing glimmers where she winces. "Ick."

"Your turn." I prompt, pulling on my beer. "Tell me about Reece."

She manages another few manic bites as she considers. Then, "I don't know. Guess I've never had any siblings."

"I have five," I roll my eyes. "Want one?"

She giggles. "I read that about you."

"Did you?" I arch a brow, take a slow sip of my beer. "Well, since you already know that, is there another question you want to ask of me?"

Reece makes a face, shoves the half-eaten sandwich, and empty bowl of soup away, leaving only her beer. I can almost see the wheels in her mind rotating, spinning around in a directionless frenzy. "Let me think."

I smile, grab my beer, and nod to the couch. "Avec moi. More comfortable over here."

"But the dishes."

"I've got them." I pull her stool away from the bar with her still in it. "Don't let the dragging knuckles fool you. I promise I'm domesticated."

"House trained?" Reece snarks but finally moves toward the couch.

I wink at her. "Working on it."

"Why hockey?" She questions, taking a seat and getting swallowed by the enormity of the leather couch cushions. It's adorable.

"You know, I know how to talk about more than sports, right?" I prompt. "I'm not just a dumb jock."

"I'm really curious, though. Why hockey?" The defiance comes back to her gaze. "Do you just like the excuse to beat people up?"

Ah, there it is.

Because I'm an ass, I shrug and feel the need to comment, "I mean, that's an added bonus, but no."

Whatever answer she was expecting, it wasn't that one. "Then...why?"

I lounge back against the couch, regarding her over the rim of my beer. I've answered this same question a thousand different ways for the press, all through high school, college, and the league. I talk about how I love the teamwork and comradery and blah-blah-blah.

Reece isn't here for those answers.

"Hockey was always something that was mine." I start after a moment. "It was what made me stand out from my siblings. Then I got addicted to the rush you get when your team scores and the fans scream."

She nods, nurses her drink. "You like attention."

"Well, of course," I snort. "But I also like the stuff the clubs do for the local communities."

"Oh." Reece flushes. "I hadn't realized they did that."

"There's an event coming up Sunday," I grin. "Humane Society of Cincinnati is holding an Adopt-A-Thon. You should come with, bring Kaila too."

She starts to shut down. "I don't know—"

"Aw, c'mon," I sit up as I finish off my beer and place it on the coffee table. "Cute puppies, happy families, plus you'll get to spend more time with me!"

"I was sold until you gave that last one," she remarks dryly.

I clap my hands together. "Great! Spencer and I will pick you up at the café around noon."

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. "You're awful pushy, you know that? What if we're working, or I have homework to finish?"

I cock a brow. "Wasn't there something said about handcuffing you to me?"

Reece scowls, flips me the bird, and folds her arms over her chest sullenly.

"Your turn, Reecie." Scooting forward on the couch a bit, I rest my elbows on my knees. "I get to ask a question."

Those brown eyes fill up with apprehension, and it stings. But she looks less haunted than before.

"Okay," she mumbles, already curling in on herself, hands barred across her stomach.

I smirk, glance over her shoulder at the painting of darkness and growth. "Why do you like that one?"

Reece turns to face it, and the hardness about her slowly relaxes. I give her a moment to collect her thoughts, use her words. I get the sense that she doesn't speak to people in this capacity often.

"It's so, so dark." She starts, gaze traveling from the focal ember to the surrounding, subtle vegetation. "Then there's this little light. And I follow it and suddenly I can see everything I couldn't before. Like just because it's black doesn't mean it's bleak, and just because it's dark doesn't mean it's empty."

I want to hop off the couch, fist-bump the air, and bellow a victory cry. Hell, ordinarily, I would. It's my place; why should I give a fuck? Except then Reece might catch onto my little part in defacing her sayings, and I'm not quite ready for that yet.

So, instead, I stand calmly from the couch and toss out my empty beer bottle before retrieving two more. If she doesn't drink it, I will. "See? That wasn't so bad."

The beginning of a smile parts her lips. "No. It wasn't."

I flop back on the couch, twist to grab the TV remote and Xbox controller. "Netflix? Hulu? I have HBO and Disney +, too."

Reece tilts her head. "No more questions?"

"We have Sunday," I smirk at her. "Besides, I'm knackered. Pick something."

"You're giving me control of the remote?" She's looking at me like I just handed her a live beaver. "What if I pick something you hate? Like a chick flick?"

"I love chick flicks," I wink. "Give it your best."

She stretches out on the sofa; it's so large that only our feet touch. "Challenge accepted."