Chapter 1
ONE
RYAN
The arena is filling up fast for tonight's hockey game. I finish my warm-up stretches, accepting the hand my linemate, Milo, offers to help me up.
"Passing drill?" he suggests.
"Let's do it."
As wingers, this is our routine before every game. Our ritual to get in sync, ensuring we always earn the crowd's cheers for every goal we score for Heston U.
"Nice," I say when Milo sends a prime wrister my way while we glide around the home zone.
"Show off a little," Milo chirps with a cocky grin. "The fan club girls like it when you flex more for them."
I laugh. "I'm trying to get in the zone, man."
"So am I."
His idea of pregame superstitions is flirting with the girls waving signs at the plexi in the student section, having a specific shampoo he only uses on game days, and intentionally missing his first warm-up shot.
I'm more of a purist—putting on my gear in my lucky order and tapping my stick while I listen to my game playlist.
Milo circles around me, then comes to a stop. He folds his gloves over his stick and props his chin on them.
"What?" I prompt.
"You've got a fan." He gives a nod to the boards. "The cute blonde wearing your number."
My jaw goes slack. He stops me with a chuckle before I finish whipping around.
"Easy, Ry. Make it obvious, why don't you? Be chill." He tugs on my jersey, leading me in a loose edge drill. "See? We're just gonna skate by and make it look natural. Then you give her one of those boy wonder smiles that makes all the girls go wild."
"Shut up." I swat at him good-naturedly, shaking my head with a smirk.
"You know I'm right. Would I steer you wrong?"
He slings an arm over my shoulders. Our hips bump together, then we're back in sync.
It's always like this with us. We became fast friends from our first training camp for the team and we've been relying on each other ever since. He's my best friend, my teammate, and my wingman usually. Without his guidance, I'd never score any dates because my shyness would get in my own way.
Milo’s this big, shining personality that draws everyone in. He’s confident and fun to be around.
"You wouldn't," I concede.
He hums in victory. "Now, as we come around behind the net, give her a glance and bust out that smile, you handsome devil."
Milo gives me a nudge to push me ahead of him.
Shaking off the self-consciousness tingling my nerve endings, I do as he instructs, hoping it looks half as cool as it would've if Milo was the one doing it. When I wave at the row of girls at the plexi, they squeal and shake their signs.
The beaming blonde Milo pointed out catches my attention. She bounces in place with her handmade sign that declares Heston U boys do it better. Go Knights!
"Get 'em, guys!" she cheers.
I recognize her as Darci, the cute, bubbly art major from one of my classes. We’ve talked a couple of times and been to a few of the same parties since the start of the semester.
I've thought about asking her out before. Seeing her in my jersey sparks something electric that zings through my veins. It fires me up, making me feel like I'm about to crush tonight's game.
Milo waggles his brows when I loop around. I pick up the puck he shoots to me with the end of my stick and we send it back and forth.
"I know her from my class," I say.
Recognition crosses his face. "Is she the one you told me about that asked to share your notebook? The one who was flirting with you?"
"She wasn't. She just needed somewhere to take notes."
"She could’ve done that on her phone. No girl's going out of her way to sit close and write in the same notebook with you the whole class."
I wave him off, downplaying his spin on things. "Who's to say Darci’s not here for someone else? It's you they all go for."
Milo scoffs. "Nah, man. She's wearing your jersey."
Again, a bolt of excitement hits me. I glance in Darci's direction as Coach Boucher signals for us to wrap up warm-ups.
My number adorns her. It feels good.
The corner of my mouth lifts and I tap Milo's shoulder with my glove.
"Let's play some damn good hockey."
He whoops. "Hell yeah."