The Goalie's Tutor
He took the glass from my hand and, instead of drinking, he leaned down.
“To us,” he corrected, and then his lips descended on mine for a long, passionate kiss.
When he finally pulled back, he smiled. “Now, what is this cloudy stuff? Tastes… earthy.”
“It’s a secret herbal blend,” I lied, forcing a light laugh. “Aria’s patented stress-relief cocktail. Drink up. You’ve earned it.”
He shrugged, took a long, deep gulp, and then walked toward the window, looking out over the town lights, completely unsuspecting.
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