Chapter 24 #2
I jump out of the sin bin faster than lightning and hug Brynn as we both get off the ice.
The Otters are looking like they’re wondering what on earth just happened, but that’s just what happens when you play us.
You get thrown around like you’re in the middle of the Vortex.
Lawson lightly slaps the back of my helmet as I try to get a look down the tunnel and refocus on the game in front of us.
The rest of the period, the last five minutes, are hard and fast and desperate scrambling for the Otters while we are playing the puck perfectly.
It’s solid passes, hard hits and even heavier takedowns.
Despite me playing with one of our floating defenders Rebecca.
She’s good and we’ve played in the past, but it’s a completely different game compared to playing with Eloise.
The fact that I only got a period and a half playing with her and we already clicked makes me wonder why on earth I was fighting our friendship for as long as I did.
I’m pulling myself up off the ice when the alarm sounds and I skate off, bumping through Otter players.
One of their veterans, Stella Adams, taps my pads as I bump into her.
If my mind weren’t solely focused on going to see Eloise to check if she can play the next period, I’d probably tap back or say hi.
The thudding of skates against the padded floor and panting breaths match the pounding in my ears. We’re walking uniformly when the person out front opens the locker room door and we file in.
Then we erupt in chatter.
Someone’s throwing granola bars as we walk past; others are collapsing near their lockers to get their snacks. Someone’s opened Skittles and is passing them around for a little burst of energy.
But Eloise isn't here.
My head is swivelling, looking for her chestnut ponytail or her brown eyes. She’s not by her locker, she’s not by the door, and she isn’t coming out of the bathroom.
She’s gone.
My stomach plummets.
Someone claps, and we’re silent as Lawson stands in front of us again.
“You know, ladies, if I were a losing man, I would have thought that Harper going off and Matthews here deciding to be a thug would have killed us, but I was wrong. That goal was a bomb, Bailey,” he sounds a little choked up, and I’m wondering if we’re seeing the elusive fourth setting of his personality— softie.
It usually only comes out when he sees babies and little kids.
The locker room is louder than ever as Brynn stands and does a little curtsey. “You know it!” she shouts. “But we’re far from over. We’ve got another twenty minutes to extend this lead and crush them. Can we do it?”
“Yeah!” we chant.
“Are we going to get more goals?”
“Yeah!”
“Are we winning this game?”
“Fuck yeah!”
“Then let’s fucking do it!”
We’re up on our skates, cheering before we go back out, giving quick smiles to the fans that showed up before putting our game faces on.
The fluorescent lights are burning our retinas as we do a quick skate, and I set up around the face off, watching Brynn fight for the puck before she passes it back to me.
I’m passing it to Rebecca, who’s passing it up north to Lily, then to Rory and Brynn.
I’m skating over the blue line to make sure that we’re not offside if they pass back to me, which Brynn does.
Each pass is crisp and fast. The Otters don’t seem to know what we’re doing, and they look like they’re being thrown in a spin wash with how their heads are turning.
I pass back to Brynn, who’s close to the crease.
She tries to shove it in, but their goalie is aware of it, so Brynn tosses it to Lily, who wraps around and tucks it into the bottom right corner.
The horn goes and we’re shouting. Lily, Brynn, and Rory are in a huddle shouting excitedly at each other before Lily skates her way down the bench, fist bumping the rest of the team.
It was a quick shift for us, but we’re off and watching our second line set up for another face off.
We’re pressing hard, the constant pressure solid, and they’re showing signs of wear and tear, chinks in their defense now becoming more and more present. The goalie, rookie Gracie Martínez, is doing an awesome job all things considered. It’s not her fault that we want this more.
Every shift on the ice, I’m getting a bit more comfortable with Rebecca, but it’s still not fluid. I hope that El isn’t out for more than a game or two. My stomach curdles at the thought, but it’s pushed aside as I force myself to keep playing.
We end the game 3-1. They sneak one past Winnie, who fumes and scowls at her pipes since their goal.
Brynn gets the final goal, and with the small smile that’s on Lawson’s face as we shuffle in and start to get undressed, removing our layers of pads.
I think he believes we’re going all the way this year.
I think we’re going all the way this year.
Eloise’s empty locker has my heart thundering in my chest, though for a very different reason than the adrenaline crash.
There are flashes from an old school polaroid camera that Brynn’s sibling Fallon is waving about.
Xe look particularly enthralled with Rory, who’s trying not to look at xem.
She’s tarps off, and there’s red flushing down to her chest. I avert my eyes because the way Fallon and Rory’s eyes clash has me feeling like I’ve intruded on a private moment.
Brynn doesn’t seem to notice.
Instead, she’s being distracted by Rhea holding up our post win award, the silly cowboy hat that’s about a third the size of a regular cowboy hat. It’s kitschy and stained and a bit raggedy as excited whispers settle into the electric atmosphere of our locker room.
Rhea is tall, with thick black hair and golden brown skin, a strong European nose and dark eyes framed with thick brows and luscious eyelashes.
Her cheeks are dark cherry red after the game, and a few strands of her hair are loose and plastered to her forehead.
Her eyes are crazed with the joy that’s twisted her face into the biggest smile I’ve seen from her; she’s usually so solemn.
“Vortex! It’s time to crown our most tex-y of Vortexes!
The one that spun the most heads and swept them off their feet! ”
“Ooh,” we chant, low, as she turns 360 before pointing at Brynn.
“Oh, Captain, my Captain , will you take the hat of Texiest Vortex after two goals, one of which being a jailbreak?”
Slowly, Brynn kneels, head bowed slightly. Her grin is huge. “Hat me.”
As the hat is placed on her head, she’s pulled up by Rhea, who hugs her tightly. She whispers something that makes Brynn cackle, but it’s drowned out by the team, who cheer.
I want to enjoy it. I know I should be basking in the atmosphere and the way that we’re celebrating the first win as a team this year. But there’s something missing.
I know what’s missing, and I’m wondering if the team has noticed it too. Where even is she? Did she go home? Was it that bad? She must be out for at least a few weeks then. Why else wouldn’t she stay here to celebrate or commiserate after the game? Did she know that we hang out post game?
How could she? She’s never played with us before.
Did the Chill just go home after the end of the game? No cheering? No celebration of brilliance and fun?
Shit, she can’t think we’re like them.
I’m glued to my seat until the chatter starts to die down, and I can get showered and changed quickly to rush out.
Her door is more familiar tonight, the cream hallway warm with the yellow potlights and the weird art on the walls opposite from the doors.
Her door is dark grey, the elongated handle awkwardly brushed silver against the warm lighting.
I can hear footsteps in her apartment as I almost slam my hands against her door, trying to contain my heavy breathing.
I ran up the stairs after I got here, and now my lungs and my legs are killing me.
I shouldn’t be here; I should give her a day.
But I need her to know that we’re here. That I’m here. That this place is going to be her home.
I want to be her home.
Whoa, scary thought.
Her door swings open, and she looks exhausted, with dark bags under her eyes and wrapped up in her sweatpants and a blanket on her shoulders.
Her brown eyes brighten when she sees me, and I push past the door and step inside, grabbing her shirt and pulling her close to me, kissing her soundly.
She gasps in shock but opens her mouth so I can thrust my tongue inside her.
Eloise wraps her hands around my back, one near the nape of my neck and the other trailing down my waist. My hands are keeping her body in place against me.
Sparks are flying behind my eyelids as her hands start to trail into my hair and playing with my waistband.
She pulls us back so that the door can close, and as it does, she pushes me against it, pinning me between her soft body and the hard wood.
She groans against my lips as I pull her ponytail, wrapping it around my fist and pulling gently.
Her head falls back, and I take the opportunity to kiss her neck, nibbling at her skin and nuzzling the warmth. Her breath hitches as she lodges a thigh between my legs, and I’m now more aware of the throbbing clit between my legs and how constrictive these dress pants are.
Fuck, I think I’m dreaming.
I unwrap my hand from her hair, taking my fingers and tipping them under her chin.
She’s forced to be still, to let me look at her, even her freckles that are hidden in the cherry red of her skin.
Her breath is ragged against my chin, brown eyes flecked with gold in the evening light.
Her ears are small and rounded, her nose straight and lips swollen from kissing.
A noise rips from my throat as she makes sure our bodies are aligned with each other. We’re breathing in tandem, lost in each other’s orbit before I say something.
“Hi.”