Right Man, Right Time
: Chapter 16

“Happy Birth . . . why are you wearing that?” Ross asks as I open the door to my dorm room.

“Do you not like it?”

“No, I do. You look hot, but why are you wearing Agitators paraphernalia when we’re supposed to be going to a bar tonight?”

Yeah, this Agitators sweatshirt doesn’t really scream dance club, but it sure does look like I’m going to a hockey game. Silas sent over a sweatshirt, a winter hat, a shirt with his name on the back, and even socks. There was a note also that said, dress warm. But knowing I was going to the club after this to celebrate my birthday, I put on a pair of faux leather leggings, black booties, and a shoulder-less tube top. I slipped the sweatshirt on over it, skipped the hat, and prayed that I could keep warm with hot cocoa.

“Silas invited me to his first game tonight, and I thought I should probably go, but he gave me two tickets. One for you and one for me.”

“Hockey?” Ross asks with a crinkle of his nose. “On your birthday?”

“It’s fine. We’ll go to the club after. Trust me, I still want to get my dance on.”

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asks as I grab my mini backpack and head out of my dorm.

I loop my arm through Ross’s and say, “Yes. Plus, we can get nachos, and I know how much you love nachos.”

“I do like nachos,” he says as we head to the front of the dorm where an Uber waits for us.

“Does the driver already know we’re going to the arena?” Ross asks.

“He does.”

Ross shakes his head at me. “I feel bamboozled.”

“The night is young, Ross. We have all the time in the world to celebrate. Now get in the car. I don’t want to be late for . . . uh . . . the shoot off?”

“I believe the term you’re looking for is puck drop,” the driver says as we buckle up.

I lean forward and ask, “Do you know about hockey?”

“Been watching all my life.” He pulls out onto the main campus road.

“Mister, we are going to need you to give us a crash course.”

“THIS IS where my nipples fall off,” Ross says as he shivers next to me.

“Stop it. It’s not that cold.” My clattering teeth beg to differ.

“And how did he get these front-row seats for you?” Ross asks, looking around at the people who are banging against the glass, begging for the attention of the Agitators who are warming up.

“I don’t know. Magic?” I stand on my toes and glance around, looking for Silas. I have no idea what number he is or what he would look like in a jersey, so I scan for his last name. “Do you see him?”

“What? Sorry, I’m distracted by the man beside us who has mustard in his beard.” Ross speaks louder. “Excuse me, sir, you have mustard in your beard.”

“Oh hell, really?” the boisterous man says. “That’s what I get for scarfing down three hot dogs before the game.”

Horrified, Ross turns toward me and mouths, “Three,” eyes wide and shivering.

I try not to laugh as I scan the ice, not seeing him. That’s until the crowd erupts and a blur of black and purple flies across the ice, then stops suddenly in front of another player, shooting ice all over him. The crowd cheers, pictures are taken, and I glance around as children, women, and grown-ass men start calling for Silas to look at them.

“I think he’s arrived,” Ross says. “And who did he get ice on?”

I catch a glimpse of the name on the back and see that it’s Posey.

“Oh, it must be something they do every game because that’s his friend Posey.” I ask mustard beard, “Does Silas do that every game to Posey?”

“Yeah, the crowd loves it.”

“See.” I elbow Ross in the side. “Look at me knowing stuff.”

“Congrats, who figured you knew about ice shards?”

“Better than nothing.” I snuggle into Ross and give him a little shake. “Lighten up, it is my birthday after all. And guess what I read on the way over here when Sal wouldn’t stop talking about the rules of hockey?”

“Something you should have been listening to . . .”

I roll my eyes. “I clocked out after ten minutes. But I did see that there is an openly gay player on the team.”

“Who?” Ross says, nearly using my head as a stool to get a better look. “Where is he? I’ll be the judge of him.”

I chuckle and hold my phone up to Ross. “His name is Ian Rivers. And he’s hot.”

Ross brings the phone closer and studies the picture. Slowly, a smile starts to form on his face. “Well now . . . let’s go Agitators.”

I chuckle and steal my phone just as a player comes zooming up to the Plexiglas, causing the crowd to scream. When I look up, I replace a familiar frame in front of me. Stick in one hand, Silas lifts his helmet, showing off his beautiful blue eyes. My heart skips a beat at the sight of him in his gear, his smile stretching from ear to ear as he offers me a simple wink before lowering his helmet again.

Butterflies take off in my stomach, and it feels like at this moment, with thousands of people surrounding us, no one else exists besides him and me. My God, he is gorgeous. Awe-inspiring. Especially in his gear. I’m seeing the appeal that this crowd’s already aware of. He taps the glass with his fists, then takes off.

My eyes track him as he skates swiftly away.

I watch him juggle a puck on his stick.

And I don’t tear my eyes away when he loops around the ice offering knuckles to his teammates.

I might not know anything about hockey.

And I might be in a fake relationship with a hockey player.

But I know one thing for sure. Silas Taters just stole a little piece of my heart.

“OH MY GOD,” I yell as Silas is slammed against the Plexiglas. I turn into Ross and cover my eyes. “What on earth is this brutality?”

Ross loops his arm around me and says, “I’ve never been more captivated in my entire life.” And then to my horror, he yells, “Get the fucking puck!”

“Ross, don’t yell at them. They’re trying their hardest.”

“No, they’re not when they can’t score a freaking goal. What is this shit?”

Mr. Mustard leans in and says, “This is normal for hockey. There aren’t many high-scoring games.”

“Wait.” Ross turns toward him and asks, “You’re telling me, we sit here for five periods—”

“Three,” I correct, because I did learn something from the Uber driver.

“Ah, that’s right, we sit here through three periods with an expectation of one goal?”

“On average, one to three,” Mr. Mustard says.

“Well, that’s just . . . thrilling,” Ross says with excitement as he screams again. “Slam him, Posey. Slam him against the wall.”

I’m not sure what I’ve created, and I’m not sure I like it.

SILAS IS SO FAST on the ice.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it.

He’s smooth and quick on his feet. He’s able to turn at a moment’s notice, and then how he handles his stick. Hockey must be one of the hardest sports to master.

The puck is on the other side of the . . . uh . . . rink? Is that what we’re calling it? And a bunch of guys are fighting over it. It reminds me of little kids playing soccer when a small group huddles around the ball, trying to get it.

But this is much more . . . brutal. Elbows fly, bodies are shoved, and there was even a fight between Posey and another player where Posey upper-cutted the guy. I’ve talked to that man. He’s so nice in person, but to see him just go at it with another guy was shocking.

All of a sudden, the crowd erupts, and I glance down the rink to see what’s going on. Out of nowhere, Silas skates down the ice, twisting his stick, handling the puck. He passes it over to Holmes. Silas slides behind the goalie, and then with two flicks of the wrist, one from Holmes and one from Silas, they score.

A siren goes off, a red light flashes, and I swear on my two tits, the crowd cheers so loud that I fear the arena might collapse.

“Yessssssss,” Ross screams while shaking me. Then he turns to Mr. Mustard, and they belly bump.

I laugh while I watch Silas hold his stick up and celebrate with his boys.

I have to admit, this is probably one of the hottest things I’ve ever watched.

“ARE YOU SURE THIS IS ALLOWED?” I ask as we walk down a cinderblock-lined hallway.

Right before the game ended—the Agitators taking the game two to zero—an attendant told us to meet her after the game at the top of the stairs. I assumed she was sent by Silas, so I listened.

But now that we’re walking through the inner depths of the arena, I’m slightly nervous.

“Yes,” Carrie says. “This is very much allowed.”

“Do you think we’ll see Ian Rivers?” Ross asks, now wearing an Agitators shirt and holding a giant foam finger that Mr. Mustard bought him. Before we left, they exchanged phone numbers and plan on meeting up to watch another game together. When I tell you I don’t recognize my best friend, I mean it. In the last few hours, he’s completely transformed. I even considered leaving the game after the second period, but Ross was glued to the Plexiglas. He wasn’t going anywhere.

“I’m not sure. Ian keeps to himself a lot. He usually slips right out of the locker room and is usually the last to leave.”

As we turn the corner, we see a few people standing by a door, and I recognize one in particular.

“Ollie,” Winnie says with a bright smile on her face. “Ah, it’s so great to see you.” She wraps me in a large hug and then looks up at Ross. “And who do we have here?”

“This is Ross, my best friend,” I say. “He recently became a huge fan of hockey, and when I say recently, I mean tonight.”

Winnie smiles. “Isn’t it thrilling?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m living on some sort of sports high, and that’s never happened to me in my entire life. Now I get it. I understand why grown-ass men cry over sports.”

Winnie and I both laugh. “Pacey, the goalie, is my fiancé.”

“Really?” Ross asks. “He was amazing tonight. Mr. Mustard was telling me he’s one of the best goalies in the entire league.”

Winnie’s cheeks blush as she says, “I don’t know who Mr. Mustard is, but I could not agree more.”

“And holding the other team to no goals, such a thrill to watch. Got a win for this girl’s birthday.” Ross hugs me close.

“It’s your birthday?” Winnie asks. “Oh my gosh, happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” I say just as the locker room door opens, and Hornsby pops out.

He offers us a quick wave. “Going home to my girl. We’ll catch up later.”

“Who was that?” Ross asks breathlessly.

“Eli Hornsby,” Winnie answers. “Also known as Prince Charming. The prettiest face you will ever see.”

“And he, uh, he has a girl?”

Winnie chuckles. “A girl and a baby on the way.”

“How unfortunate,” Ross says just as the door opens again. This time, it’s Silas.

His eyes lift from where he adjusts his sleeves, and an adorable smile spreads across his face when he spots me.

He’s so dreamy . . .

My stomach twists in nervous knots from the pure sight of him in a suit, hair freshly wet from a shower, his face still covered in a thick scruff that I know would feel good against my skin. And with his bright eyes set on me and me alone, I wait in anticipation to see what he’ll do.

How he’ll greet me.

People are watching, so will he be intimate?

Will he just give me a hug?

Take my hand in his?

“Hey, baby,” he says, causing my entire body to turn into a puddle of swoon. And to my utter delight, he slips his hand behind my head and brings his lips to mine, where he presses a deep, sultry kiss that nearly makes my shoes fly off right here in the middle of the Agitators hallway.

It’s the kind of kiss you dream about when you see someone for the first time in a long time.

There’s passion behind it. Strength in his grip all the way to his fingertips.

It brands me, cuts deep to my very soul.

And when he slowly pulls away, just enough for our eyes to meet up, I can see everything he wants in his mysterious eyes. He wants me.

He wants this.

If only I can convince him to take the leap.

Unlocking our gaze, he slips his hand behind my back and holds me close to his chest. I know this is all for show, that what’s going on isn’t real, but that doesn’t negate the fact that with every touch, every look, he takes my breath away. I can’t pinpoint the moment when this thought process happened, but what I do know is that over the past few weeks, my shield has been lowered, and I’m starting to see Silas in a completely different light.

I’m starting to see him as the man I want as mine.

“Oh my God, I still can’t believe I get to see this joyful smile on Potato’s face,” Winnie says. “It makes me so happy, especially since when I first met you, you were a giant curmudgeon.”

“Were you a curmudgeon?” I ask Silas, looking up at him.

“Maybe a little.”

“Maybe a lot,” Winnie says.

Silas pats Ross on the back. “Did you enjoy the game?”

“More than you would have expected,” Ross says, keeping his eyes plastered on the locker room door.

“Well, now that the game is out of the way, what else do you have planned for Ollie’s birthday? Just going to go home . . . and have fun?” Winnie asks.

I feel Silas glance at me while his grip grows tighter on my back. I don’t have to look up at him to know he’s not only pissed I didn’t tell him it’s my birthday, but he’s also embarrassed.

“Actually, we were just going to go dancing, maybe grab some drinks,” I say, filling in so Silas doesn’t have to answer.

“Ooo, fun. Well, I won’t keep you.” She asks Silas, “Where was Pacey in the process of coming out here?”

“He got held back by some reporters. He should be out soon.”

“Okay, thanks.” Then she gives me another hug. “Maybe we can get together some time, celebrate your birthday without the guys.”

“Yeah, that sounds great.” I wave, and with Silas’s hand adhered to my back, we make our way down the hall. Ross reluctantly walks next to me.

“Great game,” I say awkwardly. “I’ve never been to a hockey game before, so that was something else. Ross here really got into it.”

“Might be my favorite sport, ever,” he says. “By the way, is that, uh . . . Ian Rivers guy available?”

“I think he has a boyfriend. At least I know he’s been dating.”

“Dammit,” Ross says, disappointment heavy in his voice. “The good ones are always taken.”

“Where are we headed?” I ask as we reach a door at the end of the hallway.

“My car,” he says.

The fall wind whips up around us as we step out into the starry night. Silas brings us over to his Tesla, and he opens the door for Ross but keeps me put.

“I just need to talk to Ollie real quick.”

“Not a problem,” Ross says. “I’m going to see if I can replace any information on this alleged boyfriend. I have some gay friends around the city who are rich in gossip. They must know something.”

Oh Ross.

Silas shuts the door and brings me to the back of the vehicle, where he pins me and very carefully, in a low and controlled voice, asks, “It’s your fucking birthday today?”

Yup, I knew he would be angry.

“It is.” I swallow.

“You know, this happened with Eli,” Silas says. “Penny didn’t tell him it was her birthday, and he nearly lost it. I didn’t think much of it until I was standing in front of Winnie, and she’s asking you what you’re going to do the rest of your special day.”

“Silas, it’s not a big deal—”

“And when I asked you to come tonight, and you said you needed to move some things around, were those birthday things?” He’s speaking so low, I know Ross can’t hear him.

“Yes, but like I said, it’s not a big deal. We had a good time. And Ross and I were going to go out after the game, so no biggie.”

“It’s a big fucking deal to me, Ollie.”

“Why? It’s not like you’re my actual boyfriend,” I say, even though it doesn’t quite feel right saying that, especially after the kiss we shared only moments ago. “I don’t expect you to do anything for my birthday.”

“You should know me better than that.” His hand brushes over my cheek. “I would have done something for you. I would have made it special.”

“You did make it special. I loved watching you play.” I tug on the lapel of his suit jacket. “You were really hot out there.”

His jaw grows tight as he says, “Don’t say things like that.”

“Why not? It’s true. You were sexy on the ice. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

“Oliana,” he says, his voice growing dark before he rests his forehead on mine. “I’m struggling here. Please don’t distract me.”

“What are you struggling with?” I ask as I replace the waistband of his pants and pull him in a touch closer. “I thought you were sexy on the ice.”

“You’re changing the parameters of this agreement.”

“As if you don’t want to,” I say, growing slightly frustrated with him. “You’re telling me that kiss we had back in the hallway was all fake for you?”

His eyes flash open to mine. “You know it wasn’t.”

“So then . . . what’s the problem?”

“I told you what the problem is.” He puts some distance between us. “And that’s beside the point. We’re talking about your birthday.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. You clearly don’t want to extend this relationship into something more. You’re not my boyfriend. Therefore, you don’t need to worry about my birthday. Enough said,” I reply, now just irritated with him. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Ross and I have some dancing to do.” I attempt to leave, but Silas pins me to the car.

“You’re not going without me.”

I roll my eyes. “Come on, Silas. You don’t like dance clubs.”

“You don’t know that.”

I pop my hip out and cross my arms. “So you’re telling me you’ll go to a dance club with me and Ross and dance?”

“I didn’t say I was going to dance, just that I’ll go with you.”

Well, this ought to be fun.

If there is one way to get this man to change his mind about our situation, to give in to the way he feels about me, it’s having him watch me dance with other people. I want more with him, but it seems like the only way I can break him is to flaunt myself and make him so rabid with jealousy that he has no choice but to claim me.

Maybe this will turn out to be in my favor after all.

“Okay.” I smile. “Let’s go.”

He eyes me, probably trying to gauge where my head is at, but I just smile at him and move myself to the passenger side of the car. This time, he allows me.

He wants to be stubborn? Fine, let’s see if I can crack him.

SILAS PRESSES his lips together when he scans me one last time as we head into the club. I can still remember the look on his face in the car when I disrobed from my sweatshirt and showed off my shirt underneath. The only way I can think to describe it is what Sandy from Grease wore in the last scene, with the off-the-shoulder sleeves but with no bottom half. So my entire torso is on display. And boy, oh boy, did Silas give me a look. I loved every second of it.

When we enter the club, the music filters through my veins, and all I want to do is go straight to the dance floor, but because Silas is who he is, we’re directed to a roped-off VIP section guarded by bouncers. I’ve never been in one of the suites that overlooks the entire club, but they’re nice. Cushioned seats, a server, privacy if you need it.

“Mr. Taters, if you need anything, please let us know.”

“Thank you,” Silas says. “I think just those drink orders. And I believe Levi Posey and some friends will be joining us shortly.”

“Of course,” the host says before taking off.

Ross turns toward Silas and says, “Is Ian Rivers coming?”

“I think he might be.”

“Dear Jesus. Is he bringing his partner?”

Casually, Silas says, “According to Posey, Ian isn’t involved anymore. I checked for you.”

Ross shrieks and turns toward me. “I need to go to the bathroom to freshen up.” He kisses me on the cheek and takes off, leaving me alone with Silas who takes a seat on the bench and stretches his arm across the back.

When we make eye contact, he motions with his finger for me to join him, so I do, but instead of taking a seat next to him, I straddle him and sit directly on his lap. His hands fall to my hips, and he wets his lips as he stares at me.

“You know . . .” I trail my fingers up his stark black shirt. “You never actually told me happy birthday.”

In probably the most seductive voice I’ve ever heard, he says, “Happy birthday, Oliana.”

“That’s better,” I say while I move my finger to the open part of his shirt. “So you invited some of your guys to join us?”

“I did.”

“And did you do that so you can touch me without having to hold back?”

His jaw grows tight.

“Because you know, you’re free to touch me whenever you want. You don’t need people around to do it.”

His jaw ticks before he says, “I invited them to fill up the space in here, and I know they’d want to celebrate after the win. Plus, it seemed like Ross was really interested in Ian.”

“He is. You should have seen him.” I run my finger over Silas’s pec. “He was a true fanboy out there. Pretty sure I witnessed a hockey fan being born tonight. And he made friends with the guy next to us, even exchanged numbers so they can talk hockey. I can’t wait to see how he acts when Ian gets here. That was sweet of you.”

“I’m sure Ian will be happy about it too.” His hand comes up to my rib cage. “Were you going to go out in this without me?”

“Yes,” I answer unapologetically. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“I shouldn’t,” he says, his thumb rubbing along my skin.

“But you do.”

“Yeah, I do.”

His eyes connect with mine, and I just smile at him. “Well, good thing this is a fake arrangement, right? Because at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter.”

Ross enters the VIP section along with the server, who drops off our drinks. Silas didn’t order alcohol, just a seltzer water with lime, while Ross and I both ordered cocktails.

I hop off Silas’s lap and say, “Let’s go dance, Ross.”

He glances at Silas almost as if he’s looking for permission, but I hand him his drink before he can give it. I loop my arm through his and pull him through the curtained area and out onto the dance floor.

“That man is going to eat you up tonight,” Ross says before taking a very large sip of his drink.

“Doubtful,” I say, taking an equally large sip so my drink doesn’t spill when I start dancing. “He won’t act on it.”

“I don’t know about that,” Ross says, glancing over my shoulder. “He’s staring you down right now.”

“Good. Let him stare.”

“So is this something you want? Because the kiss I witnessed in the hallway was more than some fake kiss.”

“Tell me about it. Everything feels so real with him, but he won’t admit to it. He won’t let himself cross that line, and I’m so frustrated with him that I’m ready to piss him off.”

“Oh, like you pissed him off at his sponsor event?”

“Exactly,” I say. “He wants me. I know he does, but he doesn’t think he’s good enough for me, and that’s infuriating. So, let’s see how he feels when I dance with other people.”

“Ollie, please, for the love of God, don’t get the man thrown in jail. It won’t look good for him.”

“I won’t. I’m just going to help him realize exactly what he’s missing out on.”

“I’ll pray for his safety tonight.”

I start moving to the beat as I say, “It’s my birthday, and guess what, Ross? I deserve a freaking treat. And that treat is sitting over there in that VIP section, watching my every move.”

“He truly is . . . like a lion stalking his prey.”

“Good, let’s hope he strikes.”