7. Confessions #2
Nothing great happens without taking some risks, and Bex is worth it.
Bex
The Cove Knights’ opening game against UCLA is fast-paced and filled with action.
When I was in Bridgeport, I wasn’t allowed to go to a live game despite being engaged to a hockey player.
Dad was adamant that each of us should concentrate on our own careers and avoid any distractions. The truth is that he didn’t want me near a hockey game because of Luke. He was worried that if I attended the games, I would be there when Bridgeport played Star Cove.
He wanted to avoid there being any opportunity for me and Luke to reconnect.
Allowing him to have so much control over my life is my biggest regret.
But now I’m free, and I had forgotten how much I love hockey.
“Yes, yes, yes!” I jump to my feet, screaming encouragement as my brother dodges a UCLA defenseman.
When another one blocks his path to the goalie, Luke looks around and passes the puck to Jamie, who’s free on the opposite wing.
The puck connects with Jamie’s stick for the few seconds it takes my boyfriend to send one hell of a slapshot in the upper left corner of the UCLA’s goal.
“Fuck yes!” I pull Candace into an excited hug as the lamp lights up, leaving the goalie stunned. “Did you see that?” I yell.
Candace’s answer is lost in the roar of the rest of the arena as the Cove Knights skate toward Jamie to celebrate the first goal of the season.
But after accepting a couple of backslaps and fist bumps, my boyfriend skates up to the board we’re sitting behind.
Jamie taps his stick against the plexiglass to attract my attention. When I meet his gaze, he kisses his glove, placing his open palm against the board.
“Oh my God, that’s so romantic!” Candace squeals. “Kiss him back, come on.”
I don’t have to be told to kiss my own palm and touch Jamie’s hand through the board.
My heart is pounding in my chest as I watch Jamie skate back to center ice, where a new face-off is about to happen.
Even with a helmet covering part of his blond hair and his face glistening with sweat, Jamie Hart is too handsome to even comprehend.
“#couplegoals,” Candace gushes. “You two are adorable. And being your friend comes with its perks, too. These are the best seats in the house. If it weren’t for the boards, we could touch the players.”
“These seats are actually courtesy of Luke.” I explain. “He reserved them for us. But are you seriously telling me that none of the guys ever got you a ticket to a game? You party with them all the time, and the Zetas are affiliated with the hockey fraternity.”
Something akin to longing passes in the Zeta president’s eyes. “They usually get seats for girlfriends. I’ve hooked up with some of the Cove Knights, but I’ve never dated one.”
“What about Corey?” I ask.
The longing in her eyes intensifies as she looks at Corey about to step on the ice with the second line.
“We’re hanging out. But it's early days. He hasn’t even asked me to wear his jersey yet.
” She turns around to show me that she has a generic jersey without a number.
“That’s when you get official girlfriend status. ”
“It’s not that big of a deal.” I downplay the situation as guilt twists my insides. “If that’s the sign of an official relationship, I should worry. There are dozens of girls here in jersey number six.”
Candace’s eyes widen. “What are you talking about? You’re the only one who’s wearing his jersey because he asked. I’ve known Jamie since we were freshmen, and I’ve never seen him looking at anyone the way he looks at you. He’s totally smitten with you, Bex.”
“I’m smitten with him, too.” I look away, feeling like a fraud for the first time since Jamie asked me to be his fake girlfriend.
Before getting to know Candace and the other Zetas and most of Jamie and Luke’s teammates, I saw our arrangement as a means to an end. A mutually beneficial deal that didn’t really hurt anyone. But the more I get to know everyone, the worse I feel about lying to them.
If I have to be entirely honest with myself, that’s just the tip of the iceberg as to why I feel a knot of anxiety in the pit of my stomach.
The truth is that I’ve been lying to Jamie, too. The more time I spend in his arms, the more I realize that my feelings for him are becoming very real.
Just the thought of our deal coming to an end is enough to make me feel a sadness I never thought possible.
“Hey Bex,” Candace frowns, worry etched all over her face.
“Seriously, don’t worry about all the women who try to get Jamie’s attention.
He doesn’t even see them. He’s been telling everyone how much he loves you.
Meeting you really changed him. To the point that all the guys on the team are acting differently.
If Jamie were still hooking up, I don’t even think that Corey and I would be speaking to each other. ”
Her words do nothing to cheer me up.
All they do is show me that Coach Harrison and the Dean were right in considering Jamie a leader.
“I hope Corey sees what an amazing woman you are.” I tell Candace, meaning every word. “He would be an idiot if he let you slip through his fingers.”
“Whatever.” A snort comes from the row behind ours.
Fiona, Connor’s ex-girlfriend, is sitting right behind me with her best friend Hillary.
“Oh, hey Fi.” Candace smiles. “I haven’t seen you at a game in a while. Since…” she doesn’t finish the sentence.
She probably means since her breakup with Connor.
“Since I realized that dating a hockey player isn’t all this and a bag of chips?
” she offers. “I don’t know what you girls see in these guys.
They’re overgrown boys with a rockstar complex, who think that they’re God’s gift to women because of girls like you who would do anything to catch their attention. ”
Shit. That was harsh.
“That’s funny coming from you,” Candace bites out. “Since you were with Connor for almost two years.”
Fiona rolls her eyes. “That’s exactly why I said this.
All these guys talk about is hockey. It’s all about practice and Coach Harrison and the draft.
I didn’t realize how bored I was until I met Victor.
He has a depth Connor could only dream about.
Besides, I don’t have to spend countless hours freezing my ass off and bored out of my mind in this stupid arena. ”
The words leave my mouth before I can think better of it. “And yet, you’re here tonight.”
Fiona’s lips tighten, her eyes narrowing as she looks at me. “If it were up to me, I’d be checking out the Kandinsky exhibit at the Country Club with my boyfriend. But Hillary begged me to come to the game.”
“Let me guess,” Candace smirks. “She likes one of the guys.”
A blush reddens Hillary’s cheeks. “Yeah.”
“Who?” the Zeta president asks.
“Dave Fox. But I don’t know if it’s one-sided. At the art center opening last night, he was talking to Heather and he barely even said hello. But we hooked up last weekend, and I think he was the guy behind mask number three during the kissing game. I’m almost sure.”
Candace’s smile turns mysterious. “You’ll find out in a few weeks at the President’s Gala. I can’t give anything away.”
Right.
I’ve been trying to convince her to tell me who was behind mask number six, but all I got was the same spiel.
If it wasn’t Jamie, I’m ninety percent sure my mysterious kiss was Connor. Just the idea that it could be my least favorite roommate causes a confused shiver to work its way up my spine.
“Fight. Fight. Fight.”
The chant of the crowd around us interrupts our conversation and the flow of my thoughts.
Everyone’s attention is focused on the drama unfolding on the ice.
One of the Cove Knights is down, and the UCLA player responsible for ramming into him has been surrounded by the rest of our players currently on the ice.
I spot the number sixty on the back of the man who’s still lying in a heap where he fell. It’s Connor.
As Connor scrambles back onto his skates, the rest of his teammates are yelling and pulling at the UCLA d-man’s jersey. The air in the arena is crackling with excitement as the crowd keeps asking for a fight.
But this isn’t an NHL game. Fighting isn’t allowed in collegiate hockey, and the referees gets involved, standing in front of the surrounded player and ordering everyone else to take a step back.
The only question in my mind is how many minutes he’s going to have to spend in the penalty box. We’re already leading by one goal, and the power play we’re about to get might bring another scoring opportunity.
“What?” I scream with the rest of the arena when the referee decides that the open ice hit on Connor was legal. “Get a pair of glasses; that was reckless behavior. He could have caused an injury.”
I’m not the only one who’s unhappy with the referee’s decision. Our players are all arguing. Even Coach Harrison is standing up from his spot on the bench, shaking his head as he observes the situation.
Eventually, the referee manages to calm the outraged Cove Knights.
The action was interrupted near center ice, and when the puck is dropped, Jamie wins the face-off and points straight toward the UCLA goal. When two defensemen block his way, Jamie looks around for a free teammate to pass the puck to.
Keene is behind him to his right, and he’s skating forward. He should be in the ideal position to receive Jamie’s pass in a couple of seconds.
But rather than paying attention to the puck he’s about to receive, Keene skates past, headed toward the player who hit Connor earlier.
The deafening noise of the impact against the board makes me and everyone else around me jump.
Everything happened so fast that if you blinked, you could have missed it.
Keene rammed into the UCLA defenseman and smashed him against the boards right in front of me.
He uses one forearm to keep the guy pinned in place and lands a couple of quick punches on his side.
The sheer violence of it takes my breath away, but my gasp has nothing to do with it. Just before he lands a third punch on his opponent, Keene’s gaze finds mine.
The ice-blue of his irises is so intense that I could drown in it.
For a second, it feels as if Keene and I are the only two people in the arena. The spell is broken when he winks at me, hitting the other guy and releasing him to let him crumble on the ice.
I stare at the number sixty-six on the back of Keene’s jersey as he skates away as the referee interrupts the game.
If you asked me what happens next, I wouldn’t be able to tell you.
The game, the thousands of people around me, the cold air in the arena all but fade into the background.
All I’m aware of is the heat that rises to my face and the way my pulse quickens, settling between my legs.
This truce between me and Keene is messing with my head. I don’t like him. I hate him. Right?