Chapter 25
PENN
“Dude, are you even listening to me?”
I look up from where I’m sitting and lacing my skates on the bench to see Fisher towering over me and frowning. He’s already fully geared up for our game, ready to hit the ice for warmies.
Meanwhile, I’m so distracted, I’m still half-dressed and had no idea he was even standing there, never mind saying something to me.
“Didn’t hear a word you said,” I admit as I bend back down to knot my laces.
Fisher’s expression morphs from annoyed to annoyingly smirky. “Daydreaming about why you missed ninety percent of your party the other night, Matthews?”
All damn day, every day since, actually. Thanks for asking.
“Just getting mentally prepared for our game,” I say.
“Yeah, right.” Fisher chuckles. “Your body might be here in this locker room, but your mind is one thousand percent locked in your bedroom with Hazel.”
“Speaking of Hazel.” Noah, who’s sitting nearby—also fully dressed and ready, of course—looks up from his phone. “Ally just texted me. She and Hazel are in their seats already.” He waggles his eyebrows at me. “That’s the second home game in a row your girl has come to. I’m impressed.”
“You saying Hazel loves me more than Ally loves you?” I raise a taunting brow.
“Impossible,” Noah replies dismissively, not taking the bait. “What I’m saying is things must be getting serious between you guys if she’s coming to all your games…”
Because she has to, as per our rules—which she made sure to remind me of last time we hung out.
I shove away the sour thought and paste on a smirk. “Don’t read too much into it. I like her. We’re having fun together,” I tell Noah.
“Damn right you are.” Fisher holds up his hand for a high five. And I—super obnoxiously—high five him back before turning away, hoping the guys bought my nonchalant bravado.
“I live with children.” Noah rolls his eyes. “Now hurry up; we need to be out on the ice in like, one minute.”
“Yes, Dad,” I say as I reach for my jersey and tug it on over my padding. We’re wearing our alternate jerseys for tonight’s home game, and they’re pretty cool—white, with turquoise trim, and the lion logo on the front in purple.
Management gave us a few extra jerseys each with our names and numbers on them, and I thought about taking one downstairs to Hazel this morning for her to wear, but I changed my mind.
I didn’t want her to feel pressured to wear my name and number—and after our picnic on Monday, I’ve been trying to reel myself in.
Remind myself what this really is between us, like she was quick to remind me.
We might be hanging out and even stealing a few kisses, but I’d do well to remember we’re not really going out with each other.
Some rules might be okay to break, but others clearly aren’t.
Whatever it is we have right now still has an expiration date.
In my defense, I wasn’t trying to act overly romantic. I wanted to bring her food because I know she forgets to eat when she gets in the zone with her writing. As for the jacket, Ally told me she’d love it, so I wanted Hazel to have it. Simple as that.
But since then, I’ve been second guessing myself. Wondering if it was too much. If I came on too strong and made her believe I think this is something it isn’t.
Kissing her breathless can be chalked up to acting on our undeniable attraction to each other, but picnics on mosaic steps and gifts packaged in Valentine’s wrapping? Those are things real boyfriends do.
“So what were you saying a minute ago, anyway?” I ask Fisher, trying to push my thoughts away from Hazel.
“I wanted to mention there’s a special midnight bonus trivia round at Big Ed’s tonight.”
“Do we have to go?” I groan. Our game will be over by ten, so we can easily make it, but I don’t feel like going out.
“Yes!” Fisher and Noah say in unison.
“We have to make up our overall score for missing last week when we were on the road,” Noah adds.
“Okay, fine,” I say with a sigh. I still hate trivia, but at least Big Ed’s has beer.
And I’m going to need a beer or six after this game because my head’s a mess.
I don’t know what to do about the way I’m feeling towards Hazel right now, but what I do know is that I can’t—and won’t—end up being the idiot who starts falling for their fake girlfriend while she’s still getting over someone else.
Finally ready, I grab my freshly taped stick, and the three of us join the line-up of guys in the tunnel.
When we skate out onto the ice a few moments later, the arena is already packed and buzzing with energy, but while I know Hazel is out there watching, I summon all of my self-control not to immediately look for her in the crowd.
Instead, I’m going to use this warm-up time to re-center myself and focus.
I skate a couple of quick laps then drop down on the ice to stretch my hips. Fisher is doing the same but exaggerating the movements so they look downright sexual.
“Having fun over there?” I ask with a snort.
Fisher looks up, his green eyes dead serious as he replies, “I invited a girl I met at a bar last week to tonight’s game.”
I burst out laughing. “And you want to impress her by dry-humping the ice?”
“Yes, obviously.” He stares at me like I’m an idiot. “What better way to show off my best moves in advance?”
“If we had a douchebag jar, I’d make you put twenty bucks in it right now.”
“It’s not my fault I’m irresistible to women,” Fisher responds with a wink, hips still gyrating.
“Well I’m getting out of here before I’m scarred for life,” I say as I push off the ice and stand back up on my skates.
A couple of the guys are taking shots on net, so I snag a puck and skate towards the goalie, taking a shot. The goalie easily blocks it. I take another and miss the net completely this time.
What the hell is wrong with me? My focus is non-existent.
Noah skates up beside me, neatly sinking a puck in the back corner of the net with an effortless-looking flick of his stick.
“Hey, Matthews,” he says.
Irritated, I take another shot. It flies off the bar.
“Penn,” Noah tries again. I start to skate for another puck nearby.
“Would you stop for a second so I can talk to you, for puck’s sake?” Noah demands.
I freeze. Noah’s the least hot-headed person I know—he hardly ever raises his voice. So, I finally look at him, and I’m surprised to see him looking at me with a concerned frown.
“What’s up?” I ask, as chill as I can manage.
“What’s up with you?” he throws back. “You were a million miles away in the locker room, and you’re all over the place out here. Did something happen?”
I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck with my gloved hand. Noah and I have been friends for years, and he gets me in a lot of ways—he lost his parents as a kid and was raised by his older sister. I’ve always been an open book with Noah…lying to him about Hazel is starting to weigh on me.
“Did you have a fight with Hazel?” Noah presses. “I noticed you didn’t say hi to her when we got out here.”
“No…I,” I hesitate, wondering how to phrase this without giving everything away. “I guess I’m just scared.” It’s just a small piece of the truth, but it’s a relief to finally say something to Noah.
Noah’s eyes soften with understanding. “Of being in another relationship after what happened before?”
“I think I might like her more than she likes me,” I blurt out, grateful to finally admit some of what’s been going on in my mind since the party.
I expect Noah to respond with sympathy, or wise words or some shit, so I’m thrown off when he grins. “I don’t think you need to worry about that, you dummy.”
My mouth twists in confusion. “Why not?”
“Use your damn eyes, Matthews.” Noah points towards the crowd, and I look in the direction he’s pointing.
Hazel and Ally are standing together in the front row, hands pressed up against the plexiglass.
Ally is wearing one of our alternate jerseys with Noah’s number on it and a purple ribbon in her hair, but I barely notice her standing there because my full, undivided attention is immediately locked on Hazel.
Her curls are tumbling around her shoulders, and she’s wearing the jacket I gave her.
It fits her like a glove, hugging her slim frame.
She left the jacket unzipped so her purple button-down peeks out the front.
She looks comfortable and completely herself.
I’m so glad I didn’t give her a jersey to wear, because the outfit she put together is even better.
Hazel’s eyes sparkle as they meet mine. A pink blush dances over her cheekbones and the tip of her freckled nose as a shy smile meets her lips. She’s so damned pretty it almost hurts to look at her.
“Hi, Penn,” she mouths at me.
“Hi, Hazel,” I mouth back stupidly, still staring at her.
She breaks eye contact and scoops her hair over one shoulder, holding it up and out of the way as she spins around, revealing the back of the jacket.
My jaw nearly hits the ice before I school my expression.
The one-of-a-kind vintage jacket she loved and wanted so badly is now customized with huge turquoise lettering—her back emblazoned with MATTHEWS and my number, 82, below it.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” I murmur as Hazel spins back around, grinning at me.
I have to bite down on my lower lip for a moment to contain the emotions that move through me, seeing the girl I like too much standing in the front row of one of my games, wearing something so special and unique, just for me.
Our eyes hold for another loaded second—so much unsaid stretching between us—before Noah jostles into me.
“See?” he crows. “You guys are equally obsessed with each other. Happy now?”
“Yes,” I admit, still feeling a bit stunned.
When warm-ups are over, we skate back to the locker room, where Coach Anderson and Coach Slater are waiting.
“Okay, boys, listen closely,” Coach Anderson says, wasting no time with niceties. He unbuttons his suit jacket and then crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m going to keep this short and sweet.”
Beside me, Fisher snorts—which I get, there’s nothing sweet about Coach Anderson. As if to prove that point, Coach swiftly silences Fisher with a glare.
“We’re the better team. We’re on home ice. And we’ve had a few days of rest to recover from our stint on the road. So we have no reason not to win this thing.” Coach looks us all over with his intense stare, as if he’s daring us to disagree with him. “Got it?”
“Yes, sir,” we all chorus.
Beside him, Coach Slater smiles as he adds, “Play your best, keep your heads in the game, and it’s already in the bag. Now let’s go get ‘em!”
“Kick their sorry asses,” Coach Anderson adds with a growl, and everyone cheers as they get to their feet, ready to get back out on the ice and win.
Before I can take two steps, Coach grabs my arm. “Matthews, what the hell was that out there during warm-ups?”
“Just took me a moment to get my head on right, Coach,” I admit, dipping my chin.
“He was making eyes at his girlfriend,” Fisher taunts as he slings an arm around me and ruffles my hair.
Noah smirks. “Matthews claims he’s not in love but he’s full of shit.”
I ignore both of them and force myself to meet Coach Anderson’s only-slightly-terrifying glare.
“It won’t happen again, sir,” I say. “I’m focused and ready now. I promise my girlfriend isn’t a distraction.”
Coach Anderson shocks me by smiling in response. “Don’t sweat it, Matthews. I know as well as anyone that being with the right girl can actually do wonders for your game.” His smile disappears as quickly as it arrived, and his glare is back. “Now get your butt out there and win.”