Don’t fall in love before the draft.I enforce that rule.I live by that rule.
I’ve spent the past two months watching my best friends drop like dominoes.Captain, gone.My linemate, gone.
And I’m standing there smug as hell because I’m Stanley Ermington.
First-round prospect.Golden boy.The guy who never met a feeling he couldn’t outskate.
Then Aspen Linwood grabbed my arm at a party and called me babe.
Now I’ve got a fake girlfriend who looks at me like I’m a problem she can’t solve.
The worst part?
I think she actually hates me.
The cold, deliberate kind of hate.The kind that takes effort.
She won’t laugh at my jokes.Won’t fall for the grin.Won’t give me an inch.
So, naturally, I made her my entire problem.
The plan was simple.
One weekend.Sell it to her ex.Walk away clean when it was over.
Easy.
Funny thing is, her ex stopped being the biggest problem.
Then Aspen Linwood laughed at one of my jokes.I didn’t stand a chance after that.
Rule One was a good rule.
So was Rule Four.
