Chapter 17
17
Elle
T oday’s game feels…different.
Nobody calls me names or even gives me the evil eye when I walk into the arena with Audrey, wearing Preston’s jersey.
The tickets he got for us today are almost as close as the first ones, which is insane.
“There they are!” Audrey says before we can even sit down.
I follow her pointed finger to the ice where Preston is skating toward Christian casually, and Christian, well, he pops one of the pucks up and then shoots it right at Preston’s head. He dodges it easily, though, and then they talk. Or yell at each other.
“I wonder what they’re talking about,” Audrey says as we finally squeeze past a few people to get to our seats.
“I’m not sure if I want to know. Hopefully, Preston stays calm.”
“He doesn’t look like he’s going to choke the life out of Christian, so that’s a good sign.”
I let out the breath I was holding when Preston skates off toward the tunnel leading to the locker room. Christian resumes shooting pucks toward the goal, one right after another, making about one in every three.
We watch him until my phone buzzes in the pocket of my jeans. Pulling the device out, I’m amazed to find a text from Preston when he should be preparing for the game.
Did you have any trouble getting your tickets?
Then another message quickly follows the first. Will you come say goodbye before we leave the arena?
I quickly text back, These seats are great! Thank you 3 And yes, I’ll come see you off. Now, shouldn’t you be listening to the coach giving the team a pep talk?
He says, Coach’s pep talk was short and sweet – Go kick their asses.
Good luck, I tell him along with a four-leaf clover.
Moments later, both teams are on the ice, the announcer introducing the Bobcats starting line. Then the National Anthem singer barely gets off the ice before the puck drops.
“Do Preston’s hits look even more vicious tonight?” I ask Audrey during the first period as another Bobcat gets plowed over.
“Oh yeah. He’s hangry. And I don’t mean hungry and angry.”
“Then what…”
“He’s obviously horny and angry,” she remarks, causing a burst of laughter to escape from me.
“Oh my god.”
“Well, it’s true, right? No Os for him. That man looks like he could really use one.”
“You’re ridiculous. He’s just determined to win the championships.”
“And determined to mow down every single one of our Bobcat clients.”
“Our clients?” I repeat before I look closer at the numbers of the home team being targeted. While I never really paid much attention to the guys who come and go from the salon, there are some familiar faces being smushed into the boards by Preston.
“No way,” I mutter.
“I guess he figured out a way to spread his rage around to multiple players. There go our clients. But at least it seems to be working for him,” she says just as the Warhawks score the first goal of the game.
Preston
“Another great game tonight, Lawrence,” Coach Ramsey says to me on the walk to the bus.
“Thanks, Coach.”
“Guess the rest of the guys will shave now that you proved facial hair doesn’t decide who wins or loses games.”
“Maybe so.”
“I like this change I’ve seen in you on and off the ice this week. Too bad it took so long for you to loosen up.”
I train hard, work hard, and play my heart out on the ice. That’s why we’ve won the last two games, right?
It can’t be because of Elle. That doesn’t make any sense. The idea that she could cause a positive outcome is just as ridiculous as believing in any other silly superstition.
Except, I actually feel different since I met her. Better. Not just a better player, but a better human. My only regret is talking shit to Riley about Elle.
I shouldn’t have mentioned her underwear or anything else about what we haven’t done together. If Elle found out I made up lies to try to cripple Riley, she would probably punch me in the nuts. And I would deserve it.
It’s not fair that, other than fooling around with her this morning, the rest of my fantasies about being with her will remain fantasies.
I’m glad to see her blonde hair glowing in the dark back lot when I walk outside.
“Great game tonight,” Elle says when I approach where she’s waiting by the fence.
“Let her in,” I tell the Bobcats’ security guard who quickly obliges.
“Hi,” I say when she’s finally in front of me, no chain-link between us.
“Hi,” she replies. “It’s just a coincidence that some of my and Audrey’s Bobcat clients got roughed up by you tonight, right?”
“No clue what you’re talking about,” I lie.
“Seriously?”
“Do you really think I would go to all the trouble of compiling a list of names and looking up jersey numbers of men who have had the pleasure of your fingers in their hair?”
“I would hope not. They’re just clients, you know.”
“And I just want your hands in my hair.”
“But it’s sort of my job to touch people’s hair, even men. And you’re leaving.”
“Fuck. I know,” I grumble. “The bus is waiting…”
“So, I guess this is goodbye,” she says. “I can give you your jersey back.”
“No. Keep it,” I tell her, grabbing her upper arms as if to keep the material on her beautiful body.
“Are you sure?” she asks.
“I’m sure. Thanks for everything, cupcake. It turns out shaving my beard down didn’t cause us to lose.”
“I’m glad I didn’t jinx you,” she replies with a dazzling smile that makes me forget how to breathe. “Even if a tiny little part of me was hoping it would.”
“Evil woman,” I huff, giving her shoulders a light shake, mostly to pull her closer. “I should’ve known you had ulterior motives for wanting to cut my hair and shave me.”
“I’m still a Bobcats fan underneath the Warhawks jersey. But now I’m also a Preston Lawrence fan.”
That makes me grin at her like a fool. “I’m a pretty big Elle Townsend fan myself.”
Letting my duffle slide off my shoulder and to the ground, I lean down to cover her lips gently with mine, once, twice, as if testing the waters on a goodbye kiss. Wondering how far she’ll let me go in a parking lot surrounded by people.
Thankfully, Elle doesn’t pull away. She swipes the tip of her tongue over my lips, causing them to part on a groan, setting me off.
Sliding my palms down her back, I cup her bottom and lift her up my body. Elle’s arms wrap around my neck at the same time her legs wind around my waist.
The lift makes it so much easier to kiss her, not to mention that it lines up our lower bodies in that delicious way, like they’re meant to fit together despite the drastic difference in our sizes.
I ignore the whoops and whistles coming from the bus as I try to memorize every inch of Elle’s mouth, her taste, her fancy salon shampoo scent, the way she feels in my arms.
Being connected to her is everything, as if I could kiss her like this forever and never get enough. The tight hold Elle has on me makes me think she feels the same.
Until a persistent ringing interrupts.
Elle pulls back panting. “I think that’s your phone?”
“Shit, sorry,” I say as I lower her feet to the ground again. “Could be my agent.”
I slip my phone from my suit pocket and immediately answer when I see the name on the screen. “Hey, everything okay?”
“Just calling to say congrats!” Maya and Finley both shout so loudly through the phone I have to pull the device away from my ear.
“Thanks. Can’t talk right now. The bus is waiting,” I tell Maya. “I’ll see you both soon.”
“Have a safe flight!” she says before I end the call.
“Sorry,” I tell Elle as I slip my phone back into my pocket, right before Coach Ramsey yells, “Let’s go, Lawrence! We’ve got a plane to catch.”
“You…you should go,” Elle says when I grasp her waist to pull her closer.
“Fuck. I know,” I tell her. Why is saying goodbye to her so damn hard? “I can’t believe it was just two nights ago that we met right out here.”
“I know,” she agrees, bracing her palms on my chest. “Thank you for everything. Good luck with the rest of the games. I hope you get your contract renewed.”
“Thanks, cupcake.”
I give her one last swift kiss on the lips before I pick up my bag and reluctantly head for the bus.