Chapter 5 #2
I take a look around while I’m waiting in line. It’s packed. Like, crazy packed. Almost everyone is wearing either pink and teal Royal Alpha colors and merch, or red and black for the opposing team. I don’t even know who they’re playing today.
I feel a little underdressed, so once I get my food, I make my way to the team shop to buy some merch.
“What number would you like?” the person behind the counter asks.
“Oh.” I blink, looking at the display of jerseys. I don’t know who any of these players are, apart from Damien. Would it be weird to wear my stepbrother’s jersey? Just to be sure, I decide to buy another number. “I’ll take number two, Tucker, please. Size small, thanks.”
She nods and grabs my size. I also get a hat and spring for a pink and teal puck because it’s cute as hell.
With my bags in one hand and food in the other, I trek into the arena to find my seat.
When I make it to the bleachers, the whole atmosphere changes. The air has a chill, and the buzz of the fans around me has me smiling.
The seats Elliot gave me are not just good, they’re great. I’m surprised to be seated right behind the players bench.
They’re out on the ice right now, warming up. My stomach flutters as my attention darts to the net and a small smile finds my lips when I see him.
This is a side I’ve never seen of Damien. He’s out there being... silly? He’s laughing and joking around with another player, number two, the player's jersey I’m wearing.
Damien starts to stretch after his teammate skates off.
As he gets down and starts flexing his hips, I feel my cheeks start to flame.
Dear god, if I start to perfume right now, I will die of embarrassment.
I force myself to look away, but it’s not easy. The man is so damn attractive, it’s not fair. And the way he was moving? Why do I wish I was under him?!
Bad, Addie. Bad, bad, bad for thinking of your brother this way.
Stepbrother. He’s not related to you.
Even so, having a crush on him again wouldn’t be healthy. I’m already losing sleep over my feelings for my online friends. I shouldn’t add another man I can’t have to the list.
Just because I can’t have them, doesn’t mean I’m going to settle for the pack my mom is forcing on me.
The thought has my good mood slipping away.
No. I’m not going to let her ruin my night.
The guys are called off the ice, and they all make their way to the players’ bench. Elliot talks to them as they all huddle together.
When he’s done, jersey number two looks around with a big grin on his face like he’s thrilled to be here.
His eyes land on me and for some reason the grin grows. He steps up to the glass and taps on it. “Hey there, pretty lady!” He shouts loud enough for me to hear him.
I roll my lips together, trying not to laugh. He’s cute. Dark wavy hair, piercing blue eyes. Honestly, he’s my type.
“Nice jersey you got there. Your taste in players is top notch. How about we meet up after and you give me the chance to know what you taste like?”
My jaw drops and I can’t help but burst into laughter. Is this guy for real?
Elliot scowls at his player, then looks up at me. His eyes darken when he sees who he’s talking to and slaps the guy upside the head. “Stay the hell away from my stepdaughter,” He growls.
That gets Damien’s attention. His head snaps around, eyes finding mine. He looks surprised for a moment, then his attention drops to the number on my jersey.
Is that anger I see in his eyes? He glares at player number two.
Number two doesn’t seem to notice the death glare, nor does he seem to care. Instead, he just grins at Damien. “Damn, D-man. You didn’t tell me you had a sister. And one as hot as her? You’re holding out on me.”
“Stay the fuck away from her,” Damien growls. It shouldn’t, but the sound of his low, rumbling growl sends a shiver down my spine. I have to clamp my thighs together and pray my scent blocking panties are working.
“Oh, come on,” Number two pouts. “Where’s the fun in that?”
“Go near my stepdaughter, Dean, and I’ll end your career," Elloit warns.
“Jeez.” He holds his hands up. “Alright, alright.”
He turns to look at me. “Sorry, sweet cheeks, looks like you’re out of luck. I’ve been warned away. I’m sorry you’re going to be without all of this.” He gestures to his body.
I giggle. “That’s okay. I think I’ll live.”
“Ouch!” He puts his hand on his chest. “You wound me.”
Shaking my head, the smile stays in place, even while Damien shoots looks my way. Heated looks. Ones of anger, maybe annoyance? I think?
The game starts and from the moment they’re out on the ice, I’m glued to my seat.
Watching the way they move on the ice is fascinating. Their skills are impeccable. I'm hardly able to stop when I’m skating, but seeing these guys do it so seamlessly is impressive.
I’m torn between watching the guys fight for the puck and watching Damien. The playful look he had during warm-ups is gone. I can’t see his face, but I can tell by the way his body moves that he’s in the zone.
Every time he blocks a shot, I jump to my feet and cheer. At first I feel stupid, but most of the people around me do it too, so I let myself indulge in the excitement.
When the other team gets a shot in, I feel my shoulders deflate. I can tell Damien is pissed, but he keeps going.
Then our team scores a goal and the whole stadium loses their shit. I’m right along with them, cupping my hand around my mouth and cheering.
Being here is thrilling. I should come to games more often, because this is fun. Never knowing who’s gonna get the puck, watching how skilled the players are, it’s exhilarating.
With each intermission, the guys leave the ice, most likely heading to the locker room. Every time they do, Damien looks my way, but I can’t read the expression on his face.
Is he mad that I’m here? Annoyed to have his stepsister cheering for him?
Either way, I don’t let his mood affect me.
Our team wins the game, and I can’t help but feel the joy the team does as they celebrate in the middle of the ice, huddled together, hugging it out.
They make their way off the ice and I text Elliot asking what I should do now. Wait inside, meet him somewhere, or should I just take an Uber home?
He texts me back letting me know he’s going to be awhile and if I don’t want to wait, I can take an Uber back.
It’s only nine o’clock, and I decide that I don’t want to go home just yet. I’m too buzzed with the good vibe the win brought me, and the last thing I need right now is my mother bringing it down.
I can’t wait until she leaves for her next work trip. Only a few more days and I can breathe again.
Remembering that I saw a movie theater down the street, I decide to catch a late night screening of the new horror movie that came out.
I order all the junk I can stomach and love every moment of the movie.
I’m on an addictive high as I head home, the windows are rolled down letting the cool night breeze flow in as the Uber takes me home.
When we pull up to the gate, I pray my mother is sleeping. Quietly, I head inside and go straight to my room.
Dropping my bags on the floor near my desk, I take my jacket and jersey off, and hang them both up. I’m about to grab some clothes for a shower when I notice something sitting on my bed.
Confused, I tentatively walk over to see what it is.
It’s a jersey like the one I was wearing tonight. Except, it’s for a different number and player name.
Number One, Clark.
I suck in a soft breath, taken by surprise. My fingers brush over the embroidered letters.
Why is this here? Who left it?
My eyes catch on the note placed next to it. I pick it up and read it.
If you’re going to be at my games, then I don’t want to see anyone else's number on you but mine. Wear this next time. If you come in any other jersey, I will burn it.
Blood pounds in my ear and my heart is racing like crazy. So, he was mad at me, but not because I was there. He was mad because I was wearing another player's number?
Did he think I was being disrespectful, that I should be supporting him and not someone else?
Or is it something more?
“Of course it’s not more.” I pick up the jersey, let it unfold and hold it up. “You’re being crazy, Addie. He’s your brother. Nothing more.”
Then why do I wish like crazy that it was?