Chapter 6
Monday’s home game is against East Boulder Raves, a small college about a hundred miles south. They’ve got an okay hockey team, but no one there is going to the majors. AHL maybe, but you don’t decide you’re pro-level and stay at a small, off-the-grid school like East Boulder.
We always considered these more of a scrimmage, since we’d never see them in Nationals. But even Coach had to hand it to them—they were a worthy opponent at times. They never let their guard down and are known to put up a fight on the ice.
I step into the locker room ready to suit up.
The crowd’s loud today. It’s not usually as full on a Monday night, but after Friday night’s win, everyone is on fire.
I would check the app, but it’s only been annoying me for the last two hours.
Ever since I hearted Shadow’s message, similar messages started popping up. At least six new copycats have been created, and the messages are one eye roll after another.
Shadow19: unbind me.
Shaddow: let me unravel youuu...
K19sShadow: I’ll be your shadow any day.
My brows shot up at that last one, despite the aggravation.
Because not only have none of these been from the real Shadow, but all these copycats might deter her from sending another message.
Especially if an alias like Shadow is any indication as to what type of person she is.
She’d feel mocked.
And disappear.
Jackson, who is only half dressed and on his phone, nudges me by my locker. “Hey Andrews, which Shadow’s your Shadow?”
“What?” I breathe, half annoyed and half confused.
He flashes his screen to me with a slew of new copycats. My eyes scan the usernames just to be sure.
“You started a war out there by reacting.”
“I react plenty.” I blow him off.
“No, you don’t,” Hunter chimes in with a scoff, tossing his duffle beside me. “You’ve reacted a total of three times.” He holds up his finger for emphasis. “With a like, mind you, not a heart. And each one was game-related. Not some cryptic fan shit.”
“I happen to like the creativity,” I mutter under my breath. “And it was more than three times,” I argue. But truthfully, I’m surprised there were even that many.
Hunter holds up his forefinger. “Boys.”
“There was that time when the captain of the football team commented that the team was here to support you and would be ready to run interference with Seattle State last year,” Leman reminds grumpily, since he took it as an invasion of his territory.
Oh yeah.
Hunter holds up two fingers.
“And that time when Coach Nolan’s daughter Maddie commented that we’re all a bunch of hotheads who need attention and she couldn’t wait to party with us later,” Grey calls out with a grin.
I chuckle. “Right.”
Hunter holds up a third finger and the guys exchange glances. “Oh come on, no one remembers?” Hunter sighs. “Okay, the last was a fan who told us he brought his little brother, who hadn’t made the youth hockey team, that we’re all still learning. And we don’t give up after one fall.”
I nod. Remembering the night well.
I’d gone to our athletics marketing assistant to find them in the stands and move them up. Then had the kid skate with all of us after the game to show him a few pointers.
It was kind of perfect we lost that one and were able to show him we’d still get back on the ice to have some fun.
“Alright, point taken. So it’s rare. Big deal. Like I said, I liked her creativity. Don’t read too much into it. Pun intended.”
All the phones in the room start pinging and buzzing.
Greyson checks his first, staring at it with a grin that never seems to leave his face. “Well, then you’re going to love this one.”
My chest squeezes as I lift my phone and swipe down to see the new message.
Shadow: Play with me.
My breath leaves my body with a sudden rush. My arms and biceps burn with a need to do just that.
Play with her.
Or the idea of her. Because who the hell knows who this even is. Or if she’s real.
Whatever or whoever she is—she’s working for me. So I’m holding on until proven wrong.
Forcing my eyes off the screen—since several other sets are on me at the moment, I set my phone aside and start to suit up. “Let’s just keep our head in the game, alright boys?” I grumble.
I don’t react to the message this time. I don’t need to draw that kind of uproar before a game. I need to keep the focus on the game. On the team. On hockey.
I do, however, send my usual ‘thanks for the love’ and toss the phone back into my bag.
“Let’s move.”
A few moments later, we’re on the ice for a quick warm-up.
Renee, the athletic department’s marketing manager, has been begging us to respond to messages on SML more to increase the energy in the stands. And to let her display them in a running feed on the jumbotron.
Coach shut that down quick—and I couldn’t agree more.
In between ads, fan cams, chant prompts, and whatever else the damn thing flashes every night, it’s unnecessary. I never meant for this thing to become a big marketing campaign.
The energy should be driven by a passion for hockey. For the team. For the school. Not from a player’s response to a comment.
But hell, do I feel like the biggest hypocrite on the planet right now.
My eyes shift to the growing crowd. Is she here?
She’s got to be here.
Like a predator, I scan, catching a handful of females with their heads in their phones. The others on the players. On me, since they’ve got my attention.
Momentarily.
If she stood out to me in the texts, she’d have to stand out in the crowd, wouldn’t she?
But I don’t see anyone and I’m out of time when Coach’s whistle blows, signaling warm-up’s over.
“You space out like that during a game, Andrews, I’ll bench you for the rest of the season,” Coach threatens as I pass him.
Unrealistic, but point taken.
I try to shake off the temporary distraction, but it’s hard. Knowing it’s going to bother me all night on the ice if I don’t respond, I head back to the locker room, dig out my phone…
And heart Shadow’s message.
I’ll deal with the consequences later.
I need something to tether me to her. To let her know I know she’s here.
Without it, my head won’t be in the game.
But in one disappointed fan watching me.
For the last three days, I’ve obsessed over this app. ‘Rode out the high’ as some would say, over that little red heart. Over people impersonating themselves as me. Wanting the attention I got.
The girl who’s been a shadow longer than she can remember.
Well now I’m ready to shut these stupid notifications off.
I refuse to fall in line with every girl around me.
Over a guy.
Over a fan app.
In fact, it’s safe to say, I will not only turn off notifications, but delete the damn app.
Especially since I let my imagination run wild a few hours ago when I knew I’d be seeing him again.
When I was in my Shoebox. Picturing him on top of me. Stripping away my fears and insecurities with his strong embrace. Playing with me.
His husky voice settling me somehow. I imagine it is husky. Growly too. Maybe even… commanding.
So when I got here and took my usual back row, something inside me swelled at the memory, the thrill.
The possibilities…
And I couldn’t help myself. I sent him love.
Then immediately felt stupid for doing it. Like what the hell was I asking him to do?
Luckily, my message will be even more buried today, especially with all the other Shadow alias’s out there—like I’ve started some kind of trend.
I didn’t get a seat this time. Tickets were already sold out but standing room was available. Who am I to say no to free admission with easy access to the exit?
I jump when a girl beside me shrieks at her phone. “What the actual hell?”
“Again? Is this some joke?” Someone two rows ahead calls out.
“Yeah, but is it her?”
My eyes bounce between every bit of gossip stirring up before the game even starts.
I watch as people obsess over whatever’s on their phone, showing each other their screens like it’s some Amber Alert.
Their voices are overpowered by a roar as the Knights pour onto the ice.
Shivers run down my arms as I swipe open my phone to see the notification.
Kane19 reacted to your message.
Impossible.
This must be old.
But then I click on the notification and it opens up the app.
To my latest message.
Shadow: Play with me.
Kane19
Again, like déjà vu, Kane’s username appears under my message with a little red heart.
My stomach squeezes, my pulse stutters, and my world spins. The lights dim, and suddenly the roar of the crowd pressing in around me feels muted.
All I see is the heart. His name.
He’s responding again…to me.
Heat crawls up my neck as the whispers continue. I can’t hear them but I know they’re happening.
I can only imagine what they’re saying. How desperate I am for attention. How needy or…horny I must be.
Or maybe that’s just my paranoia.
My fingers tighten around my phone, fighting the urge to shrink into myself, even as a dizzy rush of realization sparks in my chest. One very important detail I’m forgetting.
It’s not me they’re judging.
Shadow only exists in an app.
And as long as she stays that way, she’s free to say…or ask for…whatever she wants.
And as long as Kane19 doesn’t seem to mind, who’s to stop her?