Her eyes were glued to someone on the ice. There was only one player oddly, and I didn’t hear the signal that the game was starting. The players’ back was to me, but I knew the number. It was Troy.
He was taxiing the rink, carrying something that looked like a poster board in his hands. He was scanning the crowd as if waiting for the right moment.
I frowned. What was he doing?
Finally, now that he’d gotten everyone’s attention, Troy shifted to the nearest cameraman and held up his sign. He flashed a sexy grin at the camera and continued around the rink, holding it up high for the crowd.
A mixture of gasps, cheers, boos and claps went around the arena like a flash mob as Troy continued to circle. My section was last and he lingered for a moment until my hazy eyes could make out the large sign.
H.M.—I’m an Ass.
You deserved better.
“Holy shit,” Nic hissed beside me before turning with her mouth hanging.
I blinked. “Why would he do that?” I breathed.
“What did you say your last name was?” Mila shouted through the roars beside me.
I didn’t answer. I stared at the sign with my initials. Was that even legal? He’d told me he was going to give me what I was after. Did he think I wanted this?
“Can you say ‘Ass’ on television?”
“Nope.” Nic and Mila’s husband both answered.
I shook my head. This was going to get him suspended, and all that would do was make me feel responsible. I brushed a hand across my forehead, feeling flushed.
He tossed the posterboard over to the bench, a clear smirk on his face. He was proud of this. Of shaming himself in front of millions of viewers.
He’s so stupid.
He’s out of his mind.
He’sreckless.
He’s…
As he was escorted off the ice, he looked up at me with a smirk that lifted to a familiar dimple on the corner of his mouth. My face flattened as heat flooded through my veins.
NotTroy.
Almost six years ago.
My chest seized.There he is. Oh, that’s not him.
Troy Hartman wouldn’t be caught dead walking out of the robotics room. I laughed at the thought. Then smiled thoughtfully at the other twin. Always so sharp, his glasses suited him somehow. Another dead giveaway that he wasn’t Troy.
They were so identical. How did their parents tell them apart? There had to be something. I was sure I studied Troy’s features to a tee when I’d secretly sketched him during his practices.
“Hi,” I said to the other twin.
He turned and stared at me. His mouth opened slightly but he looked around as if to confirm it was him I was talking to.
“Sorry, I just wanted to officially introduce myself, we keep passing each other and well, you never—”
“You’re Harper Maxwell, I know.”
At leastoneof them knew my name. “You’re August Hartman.”
