Chapter 8
EIGHT
DAISY
Vanessa
What are your plans for tonight?
Me
Does binge watching romcoms count?
Vanessa
HA! Nope
Me
Then I’m all yours
Vanessa
We’re celebrating you surviving two weeks with the porn star next door
Wear something warm!
“This is not what I had in mind when you told me we were going for drinks,” I admit as Vanessa holds out a flask with a gloved hand, the top of it already unscrewed so I don’t have to slide my hands out of my mittens. Thank god. It’s way too cold for that.
We’re squeezed into the hard plastic seats at the Southbay Hockey Arena, waiting for the Wolves to take to home ice.
There must be at least a thousand people in here tonight, all of them chattering over the loud music and the incessant bang of drums somewhere behind us.
It’s electric, making my skin hum in anticipation.
My purple mittens close around the flask, and I drink straight from it. The tangy flavor of gin hits my tongue. I splutter. “Isn’t this supposed to be mixed with something?”
“It was all I had.” She snatches the flask from me and takes a shot straight from it before handing it back.
“I think I might need more than what’s in here to make it through this game,” I tell her, wiggling in my seat as I try to pull the ends of my coat under me. I’m pretty sure my ass is frozen.
“Not a fan of sports?” she hums, her attention on the ice where a dozen players have just emerged, carving up the pristine ice as they take off in every direction.
We’re four rows up, but even from a distance they look massive.
“I’m not a fan of sitting in a freezer.”
“You can’t be a proper Southbay Wolf without supporting the team on home ice.
Trust me, you’ll love it.” She laughs, bumping her shoulder against mine and watching the player with a giant number twenty-six stitched on his back skate closer to us.
He’s scanning the crowd, looking for someone.
The grin that spreads across his lips when he finds her watching him is so smitten that I have to look away.
One guess tells me it’s Finn.
“Mm, probably not as much as you do,” I tease, sipping the gin.
On the ice, the players have started their warmup stretches.
“Did I miss it?” Lauren drops down in the empty seat next to Vanessa. She’s covered top to toe in Southbay blue, eyes wild and skimming over the ice as she unleashes an armful of snacks into her lap.
Vanessa shakes her head and reaches down to produce another flask. I wonder what she had to do to sneak them past security. “You’re just in time.”
“Good. The start is the best part.” She sighs happily as she slumps back in her seat and takes a big pull. She winces. “Gin, really?”
“It was either that or one of Finn’s protein shakes,” Vanessa exclaims defensively, earning her a grimace from the girl who promptly takes another sip.
“You’re forgiven.” She sighs dramatically. “I still can’t believe you haven’t been to a game yet. Did he scare you off that badly?”
“Who?” I ask.
Lauren tilts her head, eyes narrowing under the brim of her beanie, but her next question is aimed at Vanessa. “She doesn’t know, does she?”
Vanessa folds her lips between her teeth, looking guilty. I frown, trying to figure out what I missed, because whatever secret conversation is going on between them, I have a feeling I’m at the center of it. Have I really given off that bad of a “fuck team spirit” vibe?
“Oh look, the game is starting.” Vanessa shoots up straight in her chair. On the ice, the majority of the players have cleared off, leaving the final ten players to face off at the center of the rink, another one guarding the goal at each end.
“This is so going to come back to bite you in the ass.” Lauren snickers beside her, but even she’s got her eyes locked on the ice now, where the referee skates to center ice.
The noise in the arena reaches an all-time high in anticipation of what’s to come.
Then the whistle sounds, the puck drops, and everything seems to happen at once.
Both teams take off after it with a speed that has my breath catching in my throat as they cut across the ice with ease.
The teams become a blur, with Stanford in red and Southbay in blue.
The excitement in the stadium is palpable as both teams slice up the smooth surface and spray shaved ice in every direction.
Stanford takes possession of the puck and closes in on the goal to our right. A collective gasp goes through the audience when the puck goes flying, but the Southbay goalie is already on his knees, blocking it with ease before it can slide into the net.
“That’s our home zone.” Vanessa scoots closer, using her free hand to point toward the player in blue at the end of the rink.
The game is already back in full swing, Southbay driving the puck far away from our endzone, blue jerseys weaving between red so fast it makes it impossible to keep track of any player for more than a few seconds.
“Aiden is a literal wall this season. He’s not going to let Stanford get past him.”
Vanessa spends most of the game rattling off player names and hockey terms, intermittently screaming something at the referee like he’s personally offended her whenever he makes a call against Finn.
Halfway through the third period, number fifty-four breaks free from his defense position.
He takes control of the puck, narrowly missing a collide with one of the Richmond players heading his way as he flies toward the goal.
At the last second, he spins, skating backward before heading straight for the end zone.
With one quick flick of his wrist, the puck goes flying across the ice and we all watch in awe as it slides straight between the legs of the Stanford goalie and into the net.
The arena roars to life as the tally changes, adding another goal in Southbay’s favor.
“Holy shit, did you see that? I fucking knew he would do it,” Vanessa squeals in my ear.
Then she’s grabbing my arm and pulling me to my feet alongside everyone else.
I’m windswept and giddy, and I can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of me.
The excitement is intoxicating. “See, I told you you were going to love it.”
“It’s not so bad.” I can’t help the smile beaming out of me when we both fall back in our seats, laughing.
Just then, player number fifty-four—the lucky shot—spins on the ice, arms out wide and soaking up the applause like he was made for this moment.
The rest of his team is right behind him, taking turns slapping his back and jostling his helmet as they skate past. One of them tugs it clean off, while another uses his glove to mess up his hair.
He throws his head back, laughing, before he looks back up toward our section, flashing a wide grin at the home fan section.
The joy in his face is intoxicating. I can’t take my eyes off him, until—he looks back up at our section and I freeze in my seat, my smile falling clean off my lips when I recognize him.
“And your fifth goal of the night is brought to you by none other than our very own Connooooor McKibben,” the announcer calls as Connor finds his way back to middle ice, snatching his helmet up in one easy sweep.
When I glance to my right, Vanessa is biting her lip and looking guilty. “Surprise?”
I blink at her, my mouth opening and closing but no words come out.
“I think she’s in shock.”
“Is she still breathing?” Vanessa mutters to Lauren, eyes fixed on my dumbstruck expression.
I take another swig of the hipflask and sputter when it goes down the wrong way.
“Sounds like it.”
Vanessa takes a deep breath of air, then starts talking at a million miles an hour. “I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you. I thought you knew and when I realized you didn’t, I worried you wouldn’t come if I told you.”
“It’s okay,” I tell her when I finally stop coughing. “We can be in the same room without killing each other.” I think.
But truth is, I haven’t seen Connor since he was smirking down at me, arms crossed over his bare chest. If it wasn’t for the infuriating smirk on his face and the fact he had another girl in his bed, I could almost admit to seeing the appeal.
I shudder at the unwelcome thought. I definitely need more than gin to get me through the rest of the game, because now that I know he plays for the Wolves, I can’t stop glancing at him. And I hate myself for it, I really do.
With only a few minutes left on the clock, each team is quick to line up for another play, and when the puck drops, I cross my fingers beneath my mittens and hope it’s over quickly. I’m already looking forward to going home and pretending I was never here.
But the girls have other plans for us, because when the final buzzer goes and Southbay is the official winner by three points, Vanessa drags me out of my seat and down the stairs, hot on Lauren’s heels.
“Where are we going?” I shout over the roar of the crowd. Everyone is standing around us now, music blasting from the speakers, while the team celebrates down on the ice.
“To the bar,” she shouts back over her shoulder, giving them a little shimmy as we push through a group of fans pressed up against the glass trying to get the players’ attention. “We’re all celebrating tonight.”
My stomach drops at the implication and I falter in my steps. I’m half tempted to run in the opposite direction, but she tightens her hold before I have a chance to bolt.
I have a feeling this night is going to end badly.
The feeling only intensifies when we pass the home section and I accidentally glance up, just in time to find Connor staring right at me, blue eyes twinkling with mischief. He’s dripping with sweat, hair a mess and that infuriating grin back on his lips.
Our eyes only lock for a second, and then someone ushers him off for a team photo, and I turn away.
When I slide into the back seat of the cab Lauren called, I realize I’m heading straight for the wolf’s den. And one of those wolves now knows that I just spent the last hour and a half cheering for him.
Forget badly, we’re heading straight for disaster.