BENNETT
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Holy fuck.
I drop to my knees and slap my glove onto the ice as the horn sounds, and the arena goes fucking wild.
I have no clue how we managed it, but… we won.
Not only did we win, but we won in sudden fucking death after trailing behind three points all the way until the third period.
The comeback of a goddamn lifetime, and I can hardly even believe it.
Mostly because the last few games have been a complete shitshow, and I haven’t felt like I’ve been playing the way I needed to be.
But tonight?
I played like a motherfucking god. Saves left and right, clean passes behind the net, an assist on the winning motherfucking goal.
Every muscle in my body is burning and aching from exertion, adrenaline coursing through my blood, causing my pulse to race and my heart to fucking gallop.
It feels like I’m floating on a high as the guys crowd around Zach and me, slapping us on the backs and helmets to celebrate our hard-fought win.
Damn, it feels so good.
All while Gauthreaux sat his ass on the bench and watched. That was truly the icing on the cake for tonight. I expected to be the one sitting out tonight, but Coach switched things up, and I’ve never been happier to leave that asshole where he belongs permanently.
My chest is heaving, and I’m completely soaked in sweat as we make our way to the locker room. The energy around us is fucking buzzing, and it’s exhilarating.
This is why I love hockey.
This high that lifts you up makes you feel invincible, like you’re going to burst at any moment.
I feel like I could lift a car right now.
Zach falls into step beside me, and I might just kiss the motherfucker as he slings his arm over my shoulders, which is hilarious, considering the pads I’m wearing.
“My fucking hero,” he says, and I grin. “I’m fucking back, baby.”
“Fuck yeah, you are. You’re so goddamn back, brother.”
Thirty minutes later, we’re at our favorite table in our favorite bar near campus, and I’m still buzzing with adrenaline.
“One shot,” Tyler says from across the table, rolling his eyes. “Come on, dude. It’s a tiny-ass shot of vodka. Don’t be a pussy. We have to celebrate our win. That shit was insane.”
“Yeah, exactly. You know I don’t drink the night before a game,” I tell my best friends, despite their pleading.
The Diet Dr Pepper I ordered when we got here is still full in front of me, mostly because I’ve hardly been able to sit still from adrenaline.
It’s always like this after I play, but coming off a game like that, it’s amplified by ten.
I’m still living on a high, antsy, and it’ll take the rest of the night for it to wear off.
Plus, I never drink if I play the next day. A beer is fine, but I mostly just stick with water or a Diet Dr Pepper if I’m feeling indulgent.
We’re playing Monroe again tomorrow, and I’ve got to be at my best.
Coach would make us skate till our legs gave out if he knew they were trying to drink tonight, and they know that.
Tyler scoffs, rolling his eyes as he downs the last of his beer. “You realize a shot is not going to make you play any worse, right?”
I shrug. “It might. Not doing it, dude.”
“You’re the most superstitious fucker I’ve ever met,” Zach says from beside him. “I mean, I’ve got my own, but you’re ridiculous.”
“Nah, I’m just consistent. I know what works, and I’m not fucking it up,” I say, smirking as I grab my phone off the table and open it. I’ve got a shit ton of notifications from before the game. A ton of texts and DMs congratulating me and the guys on tonight’s win.
I click open the one from Saint.
SAINT BESTIE POOKIE: Lennon says to tell you congratulations.
SAINT BESTIE POOKIE: Congratulations.
I have no doubt that Lennon did make him text me. That girl has him wrapped.
But the thing about Saint is he’s just like a scared little cat, skittish and feral around anyone who he even thinks cares about him.
He’s stoic, the broodiest motherfucker I’ve ever met.
Good thing that I’m forcing him to let me love him.
The thing about me is that I’m not a quitter, and even though it’s been years and I’ve barely worn him down, I’m not giving up.
I shoot him a quick text back.
It’s late because he’s in New York, and they’re an hour ahead. He’s left winger for the Wolves and moved there once he graduated last year.
ME: Thanks pookie pants. Miss you lots.
He’ll probably block me, but that’s okay because Lennon will unblock me if I ask her to. She’s a peach like that.
And she, of all people, understands how he is, how you just have to keep chipping away at his hard concrete exterior to get to the good squishy stuff inside like his heart.
I’m not surprised when there’s a message from Maisie. It’s a selfie of her and Lennon in the stands, holding up a cardboard cutout of my head on a stick, both of them smiling big, their eyes shining with excitement.
Those girls are some of my best friends, and even if we don’t get to hang out as much as we used to since we’re all running in a hundred different directions, that’ll never change.
Friendship like ours doesn’t fade with time or distance. We just pick right back up where we left off.
The next message I pull up is from Merritt, and fuck, my heart picks up at just seeing her name in my phone. I’m grinning like a fool.
I am as ridiculous as she says I am, but can you blame me?
I don’t think I’ve been quite right since that kiss, and it’s entirely her fault.
STABBY GIRL : There is absolutely no way you read this book. I’d bet just about anything on it. Fess up Legros
ME: Nothing to admit, Mer Bear. I read it. Why, you struggling?
I smirk.
“Dude. Hellooooo,” Zach calls, and I look up. He and Tyler are staring at me.
“What?”
Zach jerks his head in a nod toward the phone in my hands. “You’ve been grinning at your phone like an idiot since we got here. What, is it a new girl?”
“Nah. Just my baby, Saint.” Not exactly a lie… but also not the full truth. I was talking to Saint, but now I’m talking to Merritt.
They don’t even know that I’m partnered with Merritt.
What would I even say?
There’s this girl I’m partnered with on my Creative Writing project who ninety percent of the time I can’t tell if she wants to stab me or kiss me.
I think she’s super fucking hot, and I want to know everything about her.
Who I also think probably actually hates me, except that she kissed me two days ago to make her piece-of-shit ex jealous. Who also happens to be our new teammate.
And it was incredible, and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.
Not Gauthreaux, obviously, but the kiss.
But I can’t be attracted to her anyway, no hooky-uppy little Bennett.
“How’s he liking New York? We should go up for a game on Christmas break,” Tyler says, swiping his beer off the table and bringing it to his lips. “He’s your bestie. I bet he’d get us killer seats.”
I shrug. “Probably. I’m down. Let me know dates, and we can plan it.”
“You know, I think tonight might be the best I’ve ever seen you in the net,” Zach says with a shake of his head.
“Like… dude, that save? I got a little stiffy, not gonna lie.” He laughs when I flip him the finger.
Fucking dick. “For real though, your stick work was nuts. How does it feel to have an assist on the winning goal?”
Very fucking rare for a goalie to get an assist, but somehow, I managed to pull it off in sudden death.
“Unbelievable,” I say honestly, the truth spilling out of me.
After the last few games and the losing streak that we’ve been on, tonight’s game feels hard-fought.
We earned this shit.
We played our asses off for it, and it wasn’t just me.
We’re a team, and tonight is the first time we’ve really played like one since the season started.
“Tonight felt like the first time we understood each other on the ice. Like we were playing as a team instead of individually. Feels like we might finally be getting our footing.”
Tyler and Zach nod in agreement, and then I add, “We wouldn’t have won without Myers. He ran it right up the middle and found a weak spot. All I did was block the shot and turn it around quickly.”
“Yeah, a hell of a fucking shot, brother. Look, I’m just saying, whatever you did to get your sparkle back, keep doing it because it’s working, and we need you playing like you were tonight.”
I shake my head, laughing. “Guess all my ridiculous superstitions are working, then?”
I mean, I didn’t do anything differently. All of my normal pregame rituals, no drinking before a game, sleeping twelve hours, tape under my pillow.
Nothing out of the ordinary.
“I didn’t do anything new that I can think of, but all I know is that I’m fucking back, baby.”
Zach raises his beer, and Tyler offers me his fist.
My phone chimes in my hand with a new text, and I look down, seeing the response from Merritt.
STABBY GIRL : Yeah I still don’t believe you but whateverrrrr you say
Suddenly, it hits me.
My thoughts connect the second I read her message.
I didn’t do anything differently before tonight’s game… except kissing her.
Holy fucking shit.
Now I’m thinking about that fucking kiss.
Again. Her plush lips, the sounds she made that I’m sure she didn’t even realize she was making, the way she tasted.
So sweet, just the tiniest bit of tartness from the dark chocolate in the croissant.
That kiss I haven’t stopped thinking about since I walked out of that bakery.
I think…
I think that Merritt St. Pierre just became my good luck charm.
I can’t help the smile splitting my face at the thought of how much she’s going to fucking hate that.