Chapter 17
LIVELY
It turned out I didn't have to wait long for her retaliation. By the time we were coming in for practice the next day, it was to find that the Blizzard Belles had already cleared out the ice, but they were still lingering in the stands, looking like they were reviewing their plays.
My eyes automatically sought her out, like they always did.
Fucking magnets, my eyes. And there she was, sitting with her team—beside Gina, those fierce brown eyes fixed directly on me with an intensity that damn near stopped my heart.
The look on her face—that sexy look of half challenge, half anticipation made my pulse kick into overdrive, blood rushing so fast in my veins I could hear it pounding in my ears.
And an alarm went off in my head.
"You want to play hardball? We'll fucking play hardball."
She's definitely up to something, I thought as my eyes drank her in. Of course, I'd sent her some texts last night but like I'd already expected, she totally left me on read.
"Hey, aren't those the Blizzard Belles?" Mason asked, his voice cutting through my Hailey-induced trance. "Why are they still here? Their practice slot ended twenty minutes ago."
"I bet they're scouting us," Logan offered, eyeing the Belles suspiciously. "Trying to steal our plays."
"Maybe they just like watching real hockey players," Matt smirked, earning himself a chorus of disgusted groans.
"Say that to their faces," Randy snorted. "I dare you. Gina Whitehall will mop the floor with your sorry ass."
"You'd drop your pants before they even asked," Logan quipped, earning rowdy laughter from the team.
"It was a joke!" Matt protested, though his lips curved into a shit-eating grin.
The guys kept bickering as we headed towards the stands, but I couldn't take my eyes off Hailey.
She hadn't broken eye contact once, those whiskey-brown irises holding mine with unwavering confidence.
Most people would've looked away by now, but not my Hailstorm. She was so damn competitive like that.
"Where's Coach?" Evan asked, glancing around for Gunner.
"Said he'd be late," Dylan answered. "Some meeting with the Administration about the damage to our rink."
That bit was the one that did it, as understanding crystallized. Coach was going to be late. The Belles were lingering after their practice. Hailey was watching me like a hawk.
Ooh, she'd planned something. Something timed perfectly for when we'd be without supervision. Christ, just knowing that she'd put actual thought and effort into fucking with me made my cock twitch in my jock strap. It felt almost like foreplay.
"Come on, let's get out there," I said, my tone chirpy. I seriously couldn't wait to find out what she had planned.
We laced up quickly, and I was the first one on the ice, skates slicing across the surface with satisfying sharpness.
The Belles were still there, though they'd shifted positions, spreading out along the stands like they were settling in for a show. Gina Whitehall was openly smirking now, not even pretending to look at the tablet in her hands.
"Alright, let's start with some basic drills," I called out, trying to make it look like I was completely oblivious. "Circle up for—"
The sound system suddenly crackled to life, cutting me off mid-sentence. For a moment, there was silence, and then—
The unmistakable opening notes of "Careless Whisper" filled the rink, the sultry saxophone echoing off the walls and ceiling.
My head snapped up to the control booth, where Sarah Dane, one of the Belles' wingers, was giving us a cheerful wave, her other hand on the sound system controls.
"What the fuck?" Matt sputtered, as the rest of the guys froze in confusion.
The Belles were openly laughing now, phones out to record our reactions. I caught Hailey's eye again, and there it was—the barest hint of a smug smile playing at the corner of her mouth. My lips curved in response, my heart pounding faster and faster.
And I felt a laugh bubble up from my chest, wild and genuine. My Hailstorm thought this would embarrass me? That a little music would throw me off my game?
Was this the game she wanted to play? Then, heck, I was all in.
Without a second thought, I pushed off from center ice, skating backward with exaggerated slowness. I ran my hands down my chest, threw my head back, and launched into the most dramatically sexual ice skating performance I could muster.
"SUMMERS, WHAT THE FUCK, MAN?" Logan yelled, but I could hear the laughter in his voice.
I responded by executing a perfect spin, dropping into a deep lunge, and thrusting my hips in time with the music. I pointed directly at Hailey, winking as I mouthed the lyrics with all the exaggerated passion of a bad 80s music video.
The look on her face was worth every bit of dignity I was sacrificing.
Those stunning brown eyes went wide with surprise, and her mouth dropped open.
When her cheeks turned a bright, vibrant red that crept down her neck, my heart just about turned into goo within my ribcage.
She looked like she couldn't decide whether to laugh, scream, or simply die of secondhand embarrassment.
But she didn't look away, and having her eyes on me? Man, it felt like champagne bubbling in my bloodstream.
"Should've known better than to cheat a friend," I belted out, adding a dramatic chest pound that had Matt doubling over in hysterics.
"Oh my God," I heard Gina choke out between fits of laughter. "This crazy—is he actually—?"
"What the actual fuck, Summers?" Dylan was doubled over, tears streaming down his face.
As the chorus built up, I decided to take it up a notch, adding some breathy moans between the lyrics and throwing in dramatic hair flips that sent beads of sweat flying everywhere.
"Tonight the music seems so loud!" I belted out, my voice dropping to a husky growl as I glided right toward Hailey. I dropped to my knees and slid the last few feet across the ice, reaching out toward her with a pleading hand.
She literally recoiled, pushing herself back in her seat like she was trying to melt through the seat itself. The disgust and mortification on her face was crystal clear but, for all her apparent revulsion, she hadn't looked away once—not even for a second.
My lower body went tight with restrained want. Thank God for jockstraps.
When I executed a particularly exaggerated body roll, I swear I saw her eyes dip down my body, following the movement of my hips.
Fuck. This was definitely foreplay.
"Time can never mend!" I belted out, skating in tight circles now, arms extended dramatically. "The careless whisper of a good friend!"
The Belles were losing it, phones trained on me as I continued my performance.
Even my own teammates had given up on any pretense of practice, alternating between filming me and collapsing in hysterics, but I never took my eyes off Hailey.
And I could literally see the frustration in the rigid set of her shoulders—this was not going according to her plan.
The look in her eyes said it all: This crazy freak .
As I held her gaze, the air between us seemed to compress, making it hard to breathe, hard to think about anything except closing the distance.
As the music swelled, I blew her a kiss, and I swear I could actually see her blood pressure spike.
But she didn't roll her eyes this time—instead, she averted her gaze completely, suddenly finding the blank wall beside her fascinating.
The flush on her cheeks deepened, and damn, the urge to see how far it extended nearly rode me to the ground.
As I hit the final notes with dramatic flair, the Belles erupted in cheers and applause, while my teammates were practically on the floor laughing. Only Hailey remained still, her eyes now fixed on me with an intensity that felt almost physical. I could come to that gaze—
"WHAT. THE HELL. IS GOING ON HERE?"
Coach Gunner's voice cut through the music and laughter like a guillotine, instantly silencing the rink. The music continued to play for a few more seconds before Sarah hastily shut it off, leaving us in sudden, awkward silence.
I was frozen mid-thrust, like a short-circuiting Broadway extra, before slowly turning to see Coach standing at the entrance to the rink, his face painted a fascinating shade of purple.
Oh shit. Time for some damage control.
"Coach!" I greeted him cheerfully, as if he hadn't just caught me humping the air to George Michael. "You're early!"
His eyes narrowed dangerously. "Summers, what in the name of all that is holy do you think you're doing?"
I opened my mouth to respond, but Coach wasn't finished.
"I leave you idiots alone for twenty minutes and come back to find my captain—MY CAPTAIN—gyrating around the ice like a drunk stripper at a bachelorette party!"
My teammates were suddenly very interested in their skates, desperately trying to hide their phones and suppress their lingering laughter. The Belles started gathering their things, clearly recognizing the wisdom in a strategic retreat.
Yeah, I was totally fucked.
I cleared my throat. "I can explain," I started, though I wasn't entirely sure what explanation I could possibly offer.
"Oh, I'm dying to hear this," Coach crossed his arms, foot tapping impatiently on the ice.
From the corner of my eye, I could see Hailey starting to stand, gathering her notebook and water bottle. The fun was over now, and she was about to walk away—taking all that delicious attention with her.
"It was my idea," I said, the lie slipping out easily. "I put the music on."
The words hung in the air, shocking even me with their certainty. Dylan shot me a look that screamed 'what the fuck are you doing?' But I knew exactly what I was doing.
Because I couldn't let this end. Not when I'd just seen the first crack in Hailey's armor, the first genuine reaction beyond ice cold contempt.
That moment when those frosty eyes had tracked my every move despite herself—I needed more of that.
More of her. There was something exhilarating about being the focus of all that fierce energy, even if it was wrapped in animosity.
And if Coach found out the Belles were behind this, he'd report it to their coach. There'd be consequences. The game would be over before it had really begun.
And I wasn't ready for 'game over'. Not by a fucking long shot.
Coach's eyebrows shot up toward his hairline. "You put that music on and decided to... what? Audition for 'Hockey Players on Ice: The Musical'?"
"Something like that," I said, scratching the back of my head, unable to keep the grin off my face.
The Belles were filing out now, Hailey among them, and I watched them go out of the corner of my eyes, not expecting my proud ice queen to look back.
But she did, and when our gazes locked, I could see her irritation blazing in those frosty brown eyes.
And man, did it make me ecstatic, because that look promised me that she didn't think this was over, either.
She faced forward again with a regal turn of her head and disappeared out the door.
My breath caught in my throat—let them think I'm insane, she now looked at me like I mattered. Enough to kill, sure, but…
Ah, fuck.
"You're so full of bullshit," Coach sighed, but his anger seemed to be ebbing slightly in the face of my inexplicable cheerfulness. "Who actually put that music on?"
"It was me, Coach," I repeated, more firmly this time.
My teammates, bless their hearts, backed me up with a chorus of nods and mumbled agreements. Whatever their captain was selling, they were buying it.
Coach stared at me for a long moment, clearly trying to figure out what game I was playing.
"You know what? I don't even want to know.
What I do know is that all of you ," he pointed at each of us in turn, "are going to do twenty laps.
Right now. And if I hear so much as a complaint from any one of you, it's going to be forty. MOVE IT!"
My teammates immediately took off, eager to escape Coach's wrath. I hung back for a moment, my eyes going back to the doors where she'd disappeared.
"SUMMERS! Are you waiting for a written invitation?" Coach barked, snapping me back to reality.
"No, sir," I replied, pushing off to join my teammates.
As I circled the rink, the burn in my muscles nothing compared to the warmth spreading through my chest, I couldn't stop the dopey smile from spreading on my face.
Hailey Baleman had just given me more attention in the last ten minutes than she had in the previous two years combined.
It wasn't romance—not by a long shot—but it was something .
A connection. An acknowledgment that I existed in her world.
And I wasn't going to let this opening go to waste.
Not a chance.