Henry rubbed up and down my spine slowly as I cried out the fresh burst of tears. I didn’t know how long we stood there before he guided me along the narrow streets with a gentle hand on my back as I word vomited all over him, telling stories about Mr. Webber and how I’d been such a pain in the ass sometimes.

I didn’t even know what I was saying, but Henry listening to my bullshit like it mattered was somehow what I needed. He ushered me through the side entrance to the hotel using his key card and then through another door. Stopping, I blinked at the gray stairwell.

“We shouldn’t run into anyone this way,” Henry said.

Duh, of course. The hotel was full of skating people—from skaters to judges to coaches to federation officials to fans. The lobby and bar downstairs would be crammed.

Nodding gratefully, I plodded up the stairs, Henry still attentive at my side as if he was afraid I was going to fall or something.

Outside my door, I fumbled for the key card, which I’d fortunately zipped into my jacket pocket. A thought floated by. “How did you know this is my room?”

He shrugged, looking at the striped carpet. “I’m in four-oh-five.”

“Oh. Right. I guess that makes sense we’re on the same floor.” I shoved the card into the reader, and the light flashed red. I tried again. Red. I wiggled the metal handle as if that would help.

Fingers brushing my wrist, Henry eased the card out of my grip and flipped it around before sliding it into the reader. Green.

Laughing somewhat hysterically, I pushed inside. “Thanks.” I unzipped my jacket, fingers shaking and cold, and dropped it. Henry watched from the threshold, keeping the heavy door open. “Thanks,” I repeated. “I’d probably have gotten stupidly lost. Thanks.”

He nodded. He took a breath, and I thought maybe he was going to say something? Then he nodded again and eased back, and the door was going to thud shut and I’d never hear what he was going to say.

“What?” I demanded desperately. I tried to smile. “What did you—” I waved my hand toward him.

Henry only watched me with that cute little furrow between his brows. Wait, was it cute? I mean, it was. There was no debating it—the furrow was adorable. Had I always thought that? Maybe. I wasn’t sure. Did it matter?

“Will you watch a movie with me?” I blurted before he could disappear. “Please?”

For a horrible moment, I thought he might say no, but he nodded. “We should shower first.”

My mind exploded with images of steam and Henry’s slick, naked skin, desire rocketing through me and leaving a trail like a comet. I could barely breathe, knees unsteady, my dick going hard. Before I could respond, the door swung shut, and he was gone.

I had to laugh because Henry had obviously meant we should shower alone, which made all the sense since it would be very weird to shower together considering we’d never even kissed.