What comes easy won't last long; what lasts long won't come easy.

I stare at Bas's words, admiring the pops of color among the sea of stars swirling around the letters. I don't know when he did it, I don't much care anymore. It makes me feel warm inside knowing he didn't stop. Like we're sharing a joke only we're privy to.

Now that I know who it is that's writing back to me, I keep going over every phrase in my head. Well, the ones I remember. Wondering if there was something he was trying to tell me.

You're so beautiful.

Safer isn't better.

Love is passion.

He called me his girlfriend.

He gave me the best orgasm of my life.

I shake myself, turn on my heel, and slip back behind the counter. The café is dead today, and I'm pretty sure I know why. It's that weird time of year when Bengals football and Cyclones hockey jostle for attendance. Bastien's team is playing a home game. And most days, now that I've started paying attention, the general population of Cincinnati milling about reduces significantly on game days.

A small, giddy part of me wishes I could go, see him, talk to him, maybe do more... The memory of his mouth, his words, his hands make my knees weak. I'm surprised to feel the ache in my lower belly, the pull for more.

Lusting over a man is something I haven't done in a long time. Something I haven't done ever. Just thinking of Bas's glittering hazel eyes, the searing pleasure of his lips against my scars, the most intimate part of me, makes my hoodie hot and stifling.

Then there's other part of me. The one hell-bent on self-preservation. Over the tidal wave of longing is a cry of frustration and terror. It questions me even leaving my apartment to go to work.

Asher could be anywhere.

"Hello!"

Kaila sidles up beside me, hands twining her blue hair into a messy bun atop her head. She bumps her hip into mine, flashes me a cheeky grin.

"So, Spence texted me. Evidently Bas got called out for turning down a threesome. Turns out he has a girlfriend..." she drops off, wiggles her brows and purses ruby red lips. "Funny that no one thought to tell me."

I feel my mouth quirk up into a smile before I can suppress it, quickly shift my reddening face away. But Kaila's laser eyes are so zeroed in on me, the rest of the world feels like it's melted away and I'm stuck under a spotlight.

"Bitch!" She shoves my shoulder.

I yelp, "Hey!" I reciprocate the action, prompting her to expel a snobbish, satisfied noise.

"Don't 'hey' me, I've done nothing short of a miracle." She simpers, looking disgustingly proud of herself.

I scoff and cross my arms. "Okay, wait, so my budding relationship is somehow your success?"

"So you are in a relationship?" Those green eyes sparkle.

Why can't my mouth have a backspace key?

Kaila preens, bobs her head enthusiastically. "And it's totally my success! I told you to stop overthinking things, to just feel and let things happen. Be you, not the you he made you into." She explains, cocking a hand on her hip.

I wrinkle my nose, bristle under the bitter truth. "I'd have gotten there on my own, y'know." I bite my lip before adding. "Eventually."

"Yes, when you turned thirty." Kaila laughs. "Besides, Bas is older than you. He's got only, what, fifteen more years before his sperm count dro—"

I lunge at her, clamp my hand down over her mouth with a thwack. She makes an indignant noise, wiggles free. "Do not speak without first consulting your damn filter!" I hiss, eyeing the café nervously. "I know it's hard for you, near impossible, but just once, stop while you're ahead."

Kaila squawks in laughter, face an irritating shade of red as she fights back hysterics. "Hardly anyone's around, and they don't give a rat's ass about what we're saying."

I grind my teeth, flip her off, that only urges her on further.

"Spencer's older than me too, y'know." She singsongs, a dreamy look clouding her gaze.

"So what?" I roll my eyes. "Until he met you, I swear you hypnotized the poor guy, he was as bad as the rest of them. Parties, puck bunnies, hangovers for days."

"Parties and puck bunnies. Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!" Kaila mimics me in an obnoxiously high voice. Then, "He's not really like that, he's tired of that scene. And I've never really been into that scene. Only on occasion." She shrugs, starts straightening up the counter. "He wants more."

"More?" I press.

Kaila continues to avoid my gaze. "Yeah, like, y'know. Thinking about kids."

I laugh so loudly one girl using her laptop for a Skype call glares at me. "Kaila, you're barely twenty-three."

Her spine stiffens, and she whips around eyes aflame. "And? Spencer and I have about the same three-year gap as you and Bas. What's the problem?"

I raise an eyebrow at that, "Um, you have almost five years between you." I correct with a bit more snark than necessary.

Kaila purses her lips, irritated at having been caught trying to smudge the facts. "Same difference."

"You've known him for all of three weeks! Don't you think that's a bit fast?"

Maybe it's hypocritical of me. After all, I did come like a freight train for a certain hockey goon. The same idiot I swore I hated because of his artistic sabotage and persistent attention.

Kaila's jaw tenses. "Says the girl that stayed in a different country for a guy she'd known for two months." Heedless, she continues,

The insult cuts like a blade, her poisonous tone digging a hole straight through my heart. "Kaila," I whisper, appalled.

She sobers instantly, eyes widening, face paling. "Oh shit, I'm sorry, that was cruel. It's just that, everyone moves at a different pace, right?" She searches for approval.

I stare, finding none to give.

To my complete relief, a cluster of teenage girls choose that exact moment to stumble through the front door. They're loud, gushing over the noise streaming from their phone as they waddle as one up to the counter. I beat Kaila to the punch, paste a pretty grin on my lips.

I greet them, hover my fingers over the computer for their order.

One girl looks up, emits a strangled yelp as her eyes go as wide as saucers. "You're her!"

I blink. "What?"

Two of her friends look up too, see me, and start in on a stream of conversation that I can't even begin to follow. The first girl rolls her eyes, speaks to me.

"We're Killfeather's biggest fans." She announces, lifting her chin snootily in the air. "The Bastien Brigade."

I feel laughter creeping its way up my throat, clamp my teeth around my lips to keep it from slipping out.

"Yeah!" Another girl adds. "Look!" She says, turning her phone screen to show me a live feed of the Cyclones game.

The camera is currently focused on Bas and an opponent as they face-off. The ref drops the puck and each scrambles for dominance. Bas gets the upper hand, shoving his shoulder against the other player and slinging the puck to Spencer. Too bad the control is wrested away by Orlando's left wing. I don't know much about hockey and even I can tell the technique is sloppy. The left wing swats the puck in a shrieking slapshot toward the goal.

Except it doesn't hit the goal.

What it does hit is Bas. Straight in the nose under the visor. Blood paints the ice.

I cringe, glance over the phone screen to the girls before me. "Okay..."

"You're that girl he chose for the draw-off, aren't you?" The first one asks, totally unconcerned as Bas skates, face leaking like a sieve, to the boards and switches out with Russo.

I feel weight in my chest, like a bowling ball abruptly made itself comfortable on my lungs.

No.

The voice in my head instantly denies it. I wish I could disentangle myself completely from the girl on that TV screen. The one Asher could've seen me on.

"No." I say, too quickly.

The first girl frowns, her friends exchanging confused glances. "But you look so much like her."

"We know everything about Bastien," chirps another.

"And we know there had to have been a reason he picked you." One of the others pipes in.

I shake my head, twitch my fingers over the computer screen.

If you know him so well, you'd know he goes by Bas.

The thought comes out of left field, almost knocks me over with the venom behind it. Almost as if I'm jealous.

"Nope, got the wrong girl. What can I get you?" I redirect, clear my throat in relief when they let the subject drop.

One by one, they list of their orders. I punch them into the system on autopilot, feel Kaila looking over my shoulder to get a head start. When the girls have paid, stand patiently by the counter, I retreat to the coffee machine, start mixing their drinks. But my ears are perked, thoughts focused solely on what they're saying.

"I totally thought that was her."

"Me too, but I've never seen her around him before then."

"And we know everything about him."

"Did you hear he has a girlfriend now?"

"That's just a rumor, he moves too much."

"Mhm, Bastien doesn't date exclusively, only puck bunnies."

"Right, he's too sexy to be tied down to one girl."

"What if that was her though?"

"No way, she's not—"

"Here!" I jump into their conversation, not interested in hearing what I'm not, and thrust a hand full of drinks at them. Kaila produces the rest, smiling falsely as they thank us and exit the café.

When they're gone, Kaila turns a disgusted look on me, but her fingers twitch like they do when she's nervous. "Well, they were just lovely."

I snort, choosing to forget the animosity from earlier. Instead I revert to the comfortable embrace of friendship. I know she didn't mean it. She just lashed out, no big deal.

I try to calm the flurry of nerves and anxiety suddenly bouncing around my head. Those girls' conversation is stuck on repeat in my mind, their words slicing daggers through my chest.

Bastien doesn't date exclusively.

He's too sexy to be tied down.

Tied down.

No way, she's not—"good enough."

I whisper the rest of the sentence to myself, run shaking fingers through my hair.

This is a mistake.

"Reecie," Kaila waves her palm in front of my face and I jump, focus on her. "You're zoning out, and you look pale." She frowns slightly. "You know nothing they said is true, right?" Her tone implies that I'd be completely stupid to think anything but that.

I swallow and nod my head, "Of course, I know." No, I'm totally freaking out.

Kaila doesn't catch my inner turmoil and lets the moment pass.

**

We're in the process of closing when Spencer and Bas knock on the glass. Kaila looks up from flipping chairs, I peer over my shoulder where I'm running some dishes through.

"Spence!" Kaila squeals, rushing over to let them in.

The boys smile as they lumber inside. Kaila instantly throws herself at Spencer, who receives the embrace without missing a beat. Moreover, he grips her hips and plants her ass on one of the just-cleaned tables. Flipped chairs tumble and bounce on the floor while they devour each other's faces.

Bas's eyes find mine, and I have to glance away, remember everything those girls said.

What will I do when everything falls apart?

"You guys won!" Kaila exclaims, kissing Spencer without concern for her audience.

Ugh. It's been three weeks since the Adopt-A-Thon, since those two started doing whatever it is, they're doing.

And yet, they're too fucking cute to be around.

Bas approaches me. Somehow, he manages to make the raccoon-eyed look seem sexy. That big, lean body slips behind the counter, strong hands on my hips. The fresh alpine scent of him, freshly showered, nearly overrides my thought process.

If it weren't for that half-spoken sentence.

No way, she's not—

"Hey." Warm breath fans my cheek, sends goosebumps down my spine. His voice is deep, rough, and delectable. "Long shift?"

"N—no, I mean, kinda." I stutter, leaning back into him. Bas chuckles, the sound reverberating through my body like tiny pinpricks of electricity. "I saw you get donkey punched by a puck, though."

This time Bas laughs, his lips pressing a kiss to my cheek. "I don't think you know what 'donkey punch' means."

I bristle, half in irritation and half in arousal. Having his heat so close, his mouth so near, I remember the earthshattering night we shared. "You're such a sadist."

"Masochist," he corrects on a deep growl. "Why am I not surprised that you missed everything but that?" He questions, adding, "I had a really good game too. A few assists, couple goals, only a couple penalties for roughing." His voice is teasing as he slides his hands up under the hem of my hoodie, fingertips brushing the flesh on my waist.

I startle, pull away suddenly.

Bas relents without question, shifts to lean beside me, hands deliberately to himself. "You okay Reecie?" He tilts his head, gaze uncomfortably observant.

I nod and rinse the last few dishes through. "Fine, just tired." I answer, sparing a quick glance back at the Wall, wishing I'd waited before putting the new phrase up.

After the girls left, I'd felt like my head was imploding. Thoughts chasing themselves around in circles, beating me down with their negativity. I'd had two options: release the troubling emotion through the tip of my Sharpie or find a sharp knife and slip into the bathroom. My first choice was the latter, but Kaila was eyeing me too closely for me to get that past her. So I'd taken to the Wall of Expression.

Bas follows my line of sight, reflexes acute even off the ice. His bruise-circled eyes scan over the scrawls, drawings, and spray paint. Then they sharpen, zero in on the deepest black letters.

What happens when everything falls apart?

"Just tired, huh?" Bas challenges, eyes back on me.

I bite the inside of my cheek, curse myself for not thinking that through before writing it. "Uh-huh."

"Hey, stop flirting and get over here," Spencer chides, arm thrown causally around Kaila's shoulders.

Bas straightens up, spares me one last calculating glance, and captures my hand in his.

"Come on, Reecie," he ushers, I follow mutely.

"What's up?" Kaila speaks up, her love-struck eyes glued to Spencer.

He smiles at her, then smirks at Bas. To my dismay, he returns it.

"This weekend we have an away game in Kalamazoo," Bas begins, hazel finding me. "We want you to come with us, it's only Friday and Saturday. But," he shrugs, squeezes my hand. "it could be fun."

Kaila answers before I manage a single syllable. "Totally!"