Chapter 22 Théo #3
“No pressure,” Hana said easily. “But the offer stands. It’s fun having someone to yell at the refs with. I taught Bradley all the Russian cuss words I know.”
“Speaking of which.” Kenzo checked his phone and stood.
“I promised I’d be home by nine. FaceTime before bed.
” The drinks hadn’t even arrived yet and he was already ducking out.
I admired his style. “Théo, it was good to officially meet you. Sabrina, enjoy your visit. Avery—” He pointed at my brother. “Behave.”
“Never,” Avery called back.
Kenzo just shook his head and kissed his sister on the top of her head before slipping out the door.
I watched him go, then turned back to find Derek and Petrov returning with a tray of drinks. Derek set a vodka with sugar free Red Bull in front of me without asking.
Our fingers brushed when I took it.
I didn’t look at him. But I felt Sabrina watching us, cataloguing every detail for later. She was going to have questions. So many questions.
With Kenzo gone, the conversation drifted to our end of the table.
“You should move here,” Avery was telling Sabrina, his arm slung across the back of her chair. “You’d love it. Good party scene, lots of shopping, your two best friends.”
“I have a life in Toronto, Avery.”
“Yeah but think about it—you could train here, hang out with Théo, we could hit the club together.” He gestured around the table. “I’m surrounded by dudes all the time. It’s exhausting.”
I watched Hana’s expression flicker—something sharp and quickly buried—before she took a deliberate sip of her drink.
I wanted to reach across the table and shake my brother.
For someone who spent his life reading plays on the ice, he was spectacularly blind to the ones happening right in front of him.
“I don’t think Sabrina is going to uproot her entire life because you’re tired of male bonding,” I said flatly.
“I’m just saying, some variety would be nice.” Avery shrugged, completely oblivious to the way Hana was studying her cocktail like it held the secrets of the universe.
Sabrina caught my eye and raised a brow. Is he always this dense?
I gave her a subtle eyebrow lift. Worse.
“I’ll take it under advisement,” she said dryly, easing herself out from under Avery’s arm. “But don’t hold your breath.”
Petrov launched into a loud story about a road trip gone wrong—something about a lost bag, a broken elevator, and having to climb six flights of stairs with his luggage.
Derek laughed and added a detail Petrov had conveniently left out, something about a fire alarm and Petrov in his boxers in the hotel lobby. The table erupted.
The moment dissolved. Hana’s shoulders loosened a fraction.
I made a mental note to corner Avery later and ask him what the fuck he thought he was doing. But that was a conversation for when we were both sober and I had the patience for his inevitable defensiveness.
Across the table, I met Derek’s eyes again.
He was watching me with that quiet steadiness—no pushing, no demands. Just present. Patient. Like he’d wait all night if that’s what it took.
And like the coward I was, I stayed on my side of the table.
I laughed at Petrov’s jokes. I answered Hana’s questions about my skating even though it was a testy subject.
I let Sabrina and Avery bicker about Toronto versus Chicago like it was an Olympic event.
Derek chimed in occasionally—defending Chicago’s pizza, teasing Avery about his terrible taste in music—but his eyes kept drifting back to me.
Every few minutes, I let myself glance at him.
Just long enough to confirm he was still there, still looking, still waiting.
I knew Avery and Sabrina were completely platonic. Her earlier comment about incest wasn’t far off—she’d been around so long she practically was family. But watching Hana watch Avery watch Sabrina made something twist uncomfortably in my chest.
We were all just orbiting each other, weren’t we? Wanting things we couldn’t say. Pretending we didn’t notice.
Around eleven, Petrov announced he was “too old for this shit” and called it a night. That seemed to break the spell. Hana mentioned an early class and Avery—finally reading the room for once—offered to take her home.
Which left me, Sabrina, and Derek.
The table felt smaller all at once.
Sabrina stood abruptly and grabbed her purse. “Bathroom. Back in a minute.”
As she passed behind Derek, she shot me a pointed look over his shoulder—talk to him—and disappeared into the crowd.
Traitor.
The silence stretched. Derek turned his glass slowly on the table, condensation leaving wet rings on the wood.
“Théo—”
“Derek—”
We both stopped. He huffed out a quiet laugh and ducked his head. “You first.”
“No. Go ahead.”
He nodded, still not quite meeting my eyes. “I wanted to apologize. For last night. If I pushed too far or made you uncomfortable or—” He dragged a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to mess this up. Whatever this is.” A beat. “Even if it’s just… being friends. I want that. With you.”
Friends landed somewhere in my chest and stuck there, uncomfortable.
“You didn’t push too far,” I said quietly. “I’m the one who—” panicked and ran like the building was on fire. “I’m the one who made it weird.”
“You didn’t make it weird.”
“Derek. I literally fled.”
“Okay,” he said and the corner of his mouth twitched. “That part was a little weird.” His expression softened again. “But I get it. I think. You’re not used to people seeing you—the real you. And I saw a lot last night.”
Heat crept up my neck. I looked away.
“Hey.” His voice was gentle. “Snowdrop, look at me.”
I frowned and turned back. “Snowdrop? Is that an insult?”
“What?” He looked almost offended. “No. It’s a flower. They bloom in the snow—sometimes push right through the ice. My mom loves them. She has a whole patch in her garden back home.”
I stared at him. “You’re comparing me to a flower your mother likes.”
“I’m comparing you to a flower that looks delicate but is tough as hell.” He shrugged, a faint flush rising in his cheeks. “One that blooms when everything around it says it shouldn’t.” His eyes held mine. “It made me think of you.”
I didn’t know what to do with the soft, fragile thing unfurling in my chest.
“That’s—” I swallowed. “That’s annoyingly sweet.”
“Yeah, well.” He smiled—crooked, warm—and it made my stomach flip. “I’m an annoyingly sweet guy. You’ll get used to it.”
I wasn’t sure I would. I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
But I didn’t run this time.