Revenge Puck (Shot at Love #1)

Chapter 6

6

Elle

“ T his is all your fault!” some middle-aged man wearing Christian’s jersey and a Bobcats’ hat yells from the stairs next to our seats.

I glance around to see who he’s so furious at, but don’t see anyone causing a scene. That’s when I whisper to Audrey, “Is he talking to me?”

“Yes, I’m talking to you!” the man shouts.

I point at my chest again in confusion.

“You cheated on him with that prick!”

“Ah, I’m not sure who you’re talking about. I didn’t cheat on anyone,” I assure him.

“Even if she did, it’s none of your business, buddy!” Audrey yells back from her seat, which is closer to him.

“It’s my business, and every other fan’s if she ruined our best player!”

“Nobody ruined Christian Riley!” Audrey stands up to shout at him. “If you got a problem with how he’s playing, then take it up with him, jackass!”

“Your friend’s a traitorous slut!” he calls back before finally taking the steps up and away from us.

“Did he just call me a slut?” I ask Audrey when she retakes her seat.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to escalate things. I was hoping that he would go away if someone called him out.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“And it’s not yours either, Elle.”

“I think all the people around us wearing blue and yellow would disagree.” I slump a little lower in my seat, hiding my face behind the sign. I started to put the stupid thing down in the first period because of all the boos it was getting. Audrey convinced me not to give in to terrorists.

“Between the angry fans here and online, I’m staying away from Preston Lawrence from now on.”

“What? No! You said there were sparks when you kissed!”

“Sparks for me, yes, but no spark is worth being the most hated woman in the arena. Possibly the entire city and multiple states. We only have one hockey team in both Carolinas!”

“Nobody hates you. They just need someone to blame for how poorly the Bobcats and Christian are playing. That’s on the team, not you.”

“Christian can barely stay upright,” I note. “He hasn’t even taken a single shot! I’ve never seen him play this badly before.”

“He’s probably nervous to be playing for such high stakes, that’s all.”

“You don’t think it’s about me, do you? What if…what if he’s actually furious with me?”

“So? You’re furious at him too, remember? He dumped you because he was so certain his team would win the championship, and he’ll be a hot shot hero screwing tons of puck bunnies.”

“Right. Thank you for the reminder that I wasn’t enough, and he needs an army of women to satisfy him.”

“Oh, honey. He’s a selfish jerk. It has nothing to do with you, or whether you satisfied him. I’m sure you were great. He’s just not ready to settle down anytime soon.”

“I never once even asked for a commitment, you know? He’s right about that. I didn’t bring up being exclusive because I didn’t want him to dump me for asking him to give up other women. I just pretended he wasn’t fooling around on away games. How pathetic is that?”

“It’s not pathetic. You should be with someone who would gladly give up other women to keep you around because you are awesome.”

“Being tossed aside by Christian doesn’t make me feel awesome. It makes me feel…used. But the worst part is that I let myself be jerked around by him for five months because he was a gorgeous hockey star. I was too scared to ask for more because I didn’t think I belonged in the same league as him. Turns out I was right about all of that.”

“I know it feels yucky now, but things will get better, Elle. I think you have a new hockey star admirer. One who shares a mutual dislike of your ex. That gives you something to bond over.”

“But if Preston even agreed to keep this fake relationship up, then we would just be using each other, too.”

“It’s not the same as how Christian used you. There would be a mutual agreement. Rules to follow. You could probably even throw in no strings attached sex with the woolly mammoth.”

“He doesn’t date.”

“He does now. If he didn’t want the attention on the two of you, then he wouldn’t have taken it a step further, knowing that kiss would go viral.”

“That was just to mess with Christian. I’m surprised he even agreed to a photo.”

“Like he was going to turn down a pretty woman.”

“I don’t think he liked me.” I shake my head.

“Then why would he kiss you? He can’t possibly hate Christian enough to go around kissing random women. Trust me, Elle. Now that you’re wearing his jersey, he’s going to gladly keep up the charade.”

Maybe Audrey is right about Preston. I’m just not sure if I want to keep up our scheme or not. It feels…wrong.

But it also feels sort of perfectly right in a way that scares me.

Preston

“Good lord, man,” Nick says from his seat beside me on the bench. We’re both trying to catch our breath, waiting for our line to go back out on the ice. “That sign…damn.” He chuckles and holds out his gloved fist for me to bump it. “Best thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Yeah, it is pretty great,” I agree. I’m glad Elle’s seat is across the arena facing both benches, always in sight. If she had been behind us, well, I would’ve hurt my neck from all the times I looked in her direction.

“Riley’s all messed up about it. How did you manage to steal his girl?”

“It’s a long story,” I say, not wanting to tell it now when our heads should be in the game. I wasn’t sure how to explain it later, really, because it’s all fake.

Now, I’m glad I didn’t just walk away from Elle instead of hearing what she wanted. If I had ignored her…hell, I probably wouldn’t have made it to the second period.

Without the distraction of me being thrown out of the game or making my teammates pick up the slack for me that a penalty would give the Bobcats in a power play, the Warhawks are currently up two goals to nothing. That’s right, the Bobcats haven’t made a single goal, and they’ve only taken twelve shots in two periods.

The fourth line comes back to the bench, which means it’s time for me and the rest of the first to hit the ice. Riley is already exhausted, ready for his team’s change up. When my boy clears the puck and Riley has to stay on the ice, I know I’ll still have time to get in a hit on him.

Popping in my mouthpiece, I race toward him as he tries to get the puck away from the wall, slamming into him with all of my momentum and weight, pinning him to the boards.

“Oh, look. You can see Elle’s sign from here too,” I tell him.

“Get the fuck off me!” he roars.

I don’t get off of him. In fact, I keep him smushed like a pancake until Nick swipes the puck from him and hightails it down the ice to the Bobcats’ goal.

When I turn to follow him, I make it about two feet before my legs are yanked out from underneath me, causing me to faceplant on the ice. It only takes a second to figure out what happened.

That son of a bitch tripped me!

Thankfully, one of the refs saw it all. He’s ready and waiting to call the penalty as soon as the Bobcats touch the puck again.

“Oh, come on!” Riley whines when he goes up to the man in stripes. “Lawrence can’t skate worth a shit! He fell all on his own!”

Chuckling, the ref says, “He sure as hell can’t skate when you hook his ankle with your stick.”

I get up and start skating away, but not before taunting the asshole. “Riley’s just jealous my stick is bigger than his!”

Since Riley has to go to the penalty box, our team has the Bobcats outnumbered five on four and take advantage by scoring another goal, making it three to nothing.

In the third period, the Bobcats score once, and their goalie keeps everything the Warhawks shoot out of the goal.

Then, all that’s left is celebrating our first win of the series in the Bobcats’ arena.

One win down, three more to go until that trophy is ours.

I don’t know what it is about Elle, but I can’t seem to stop thinking about her for more than five seconds.

At least my infatuation didn’t hurt my game. I played damn good tonight. The entire team did.

The Bobcats didn’t have a chance, not when their leading scorer couldn’t seem to get the puck under control whenever it was passed to him.

But now that the game is over, and it’s time to head to the bus, I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever see Elle again.

It’s not like I have her phone number. I guess I could try to find her on Insta since I at least know her name.

It turns out finding her was easier than I anticipated since her profile picture is the two of us.

I debate whether to send her a private message. First, I’ll have to create an account as I’m not currently on any social media platforms. I want my personal life to stay private. But I’ll sign up if it’s the only way to reach Elle.

I don’t want her to think I’m stalking her, but at the same time, I don’t want to lose out on a chance to talk to her again.

Maybe it’s our mutual hatred for Riley that has me so intrigued by her. I want to know what he did to her, even if I can’t ever tell her why I loathe him.

A moment later and the profile for “HockeyLife2222” is set up. Now, I just have to figure out what to say in the message.

Our goalie is closest to me, lacing up his dress shoes on the bench. He’s a decent-looking guy who probably gets lots of women.

“Yo, Vincent.”

He pauses his tying to point to his own chest with his eyebrows raised. “Me?”

“Yeah, you. Great game tonight.”

He blinks at me for a long moment. “Ah, thanks, Preston.”

Getting right down to it, I say, “How do you let a woman know you’re interested in her without sounding like a creep?”

“How do you…fuck, I dunno. Let’s ask, Bryan. Hey, Bryan!” he calls out.

“Yeah?”

“What should Preston say to a woman he’s interested in that won’t make her instantly block him?”

“Hmm. Well, I guess you could say, ‘Hey, baby. When can I see you again’?”

I stare at him, waiting for the rest of his words of wisdom. They don’t come. “That’s it? That’s what I should say?”

Bryan shrugs and winks. “Works every time for me.”

I decide to leave off the term of endearment and reword his suggestion to say, You look good in my jersey and your sign was a big hit with the entire team. Can I see you again soon? I’ve already hit send when I realize I added the word soon subconsciously. I didn’t mean to use that word. But still, I don’t regret it. I want to see Elle again now, not in a few days, because I won’t be here in a few days. After game two, we’ll be heading back to D.C. for games three and four. Hopefully that will be all it takes for the Warhawks to win the championship. If so, I won’t be coming back to North Carolina again this year.

When I get dressed, I keep checking my phone to see if she’s read the message. I stare at it on the way out of the locker room, and when I get outside, standing in the same spot where I first saw her.

And then I look up, and there she is, almost in the exact same spot at the fence, talking to Steve. I swear she’s glowing, or maybe that’s just a few pieces of glitter getting caught in the parking lot’s light.

“Hey,” I say when I walk over. “You’re here.”

“Hey. Great game!” she says with a wide smile.

“Thanks for the tickets!” another woman says, but I can’t pry my eyes off the peppy blonde.

“Right. Thank you for the tickets and the jersey. That’s all we came by to say,” Elle explains in a rush.

That’s all they came by to say? Thank you? I find that hard to believe.

“You’re welcome.” I drink Elle in from head to toe, certain she got prettier during the game even if I’m not sure what’s different other than my jersey hugging her curves. Her long blonde hair is now up in a messy ponytail, which is cute. Her cheeks are a little rosy, probably from being crammed into the arena surrounded by fans. But her eyes seem a little red too.

Wait. Has she been crying?

“What’s wrong, cupcake?”

“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong.”

“Are you sure? You look like you’ve been crying.”

“How would you know how I look when I’ve been crying?” she challenges with her chin raised stubbornly.

“Right, well, did you get my message?”

That seems to surprise her. “What message? How? You don’t have my number.”

“I sent you one on Insta.”

“Oh.” Her shoulders slump forward and her face falls. “I haven’t had a chance to check all the messages and comments.”

“The picture of us getting a lot of attention?”

She nods her head, making her blonde ponytail sway. “It’s been crazy. I’m also getting tagged in other pictures of us, you know, kissing.”

“Right.”

“People are being assholes.” When her friend chimes in with that newsflash, I finally glance over at the brunette.

“What do you mean, people are being assholes?” I ask.

“Some people, mostly angry Bobcats’ fans and jealous women, are saying shitty things about Elle.”

I look back to the blonde, who is definitely less peppy than she was earlier today. “Who was talking shit? What did they say?”

“Some mentioned you should date someone prettier than me, and that I was not only a huge slut but stupid for dumping Christian for someone else.”

“Who said those things, Elle?” I practically growl at her.

“I don’t know them personally. It’s not a big deal.”

That’s the biggest lie I’ve ever heard. I grew up with a sensitive younger sister. I know words can cause deeper wounds that won’t heal as fast as physical ones. And if being in a damn photo with me is what caused Elle to be upset, then I want to fix it.

“If they hurt you, then I’ll hurt them.”

Now she gives me a small smile. “You can’t beat up everyone on social media.”

“I can try,” I tell her.

“Most are women. Women who think that you could do a lot better than someone like me.”

“Better than you?”

“I appreciate you going along with my stupid scheme, but I’m not sure if it’s worth the negative attention anymore.”

Shit. She’s ready to call our fake relationship quits when it hasn’t even been a day. I’m worse at fake dating than I am the real thing.

And while at first, I didn’t want any part of her ploy to piss off Riley, now I’m glad I did it. Not just because she helped me get through an entire game against the prick without a penalty or ejection, but also because I like her and want to keep spending time with her.

“Seriously, Elle, don’t let those assholes get to you. They’re a bunch of blind idiots if they can’t see how undeniably beautiful you are. Not to mention brave for having the courage to approach me out of the blue when most men go running when they see me.”

“You’re just saying all that because you’re enjoying tormenting Christian, and don’t want to let up yet.”

“I promise you, every word is the truth. I’ll even pinky promise.” I hold up my pinky and wiggle it at her through the fence. She laughs before she wraps her pinky, that’s a third of the size of mine, around it. “If you’re still not convinced, then you must have forgotten about earlier.”

“Earlier?” Elle asks, her brow furrowed all cute.

“The proof you saw and felt right out here,” I remind her. “Did that feel like a lie?”

She wets her lips as she looks up at me, obviously replaying the kiss in her head. “No. But, you admitted that it’s…been a while.”

“What is with you and all your excuses? If you really believe that, then what was Riley’s excuse?”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s with a different woman every night, and he wanted you.”

“I…I don’t really know why he wanted me. I was just convenient. Easy. I went down on him whenever he was in my chair.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind. Don’t you have a bus to catch?” She nods her head, swinging her ponytail toward the open doors of the charter bus. Most of my teammates are already on board. Is she trying to get rid of me or change the subject? Maybe both.

“Right. They’re taking us back to the hotel.”

“And then?” Her friend is the one who asks that question.

“Then, I guess some guys will go out and celebrate our win.”

“Well, have fun,” Elle says to me with a smile, like she’s assuming I’ll be going out too. I don’t usually. Maybe I would if she came along. That’s doubtful thanks to a bunch of asshats on social media. It doesn’t mean I’m not going to try to convince her to not only come, but to keep this plan of ours in motion. She may be the only thing that gets me through the finals and into a contract extension.

“I’m guessing such a true Bobcat fan like yourself wouldn’t want to join us?” There, I asked it as a question to give her a chance to let me down easy. No wonder I don’t date. This shit is stressful and confusing, not knowing what the woman is thinking about me at any given moment.

“The Warhawks was the first jersey I was ever gifted, so I could probably put aside my loyalty to the Bobcats for one night.”

Is that a yes? It sort of sounded like a yes.

“Okay. How about I send you a message with the details when I know them?”

“Sure. If you want.”

“See you then?”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Great, now her maybe sounds like a no. But with a final nod, I force my dress shoes to haul my ass over to the bus steps and climb up them without glancing back at her like a hapless fool.

Once I’m seated on the bus, I have a view of her from the tinted window. And when I see Riley coming at her with all the fury of a pissed off hornet, slitting his throat with my skate’s blade begins to look even more appealing.