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7
Sofie
Practice the next day hits different.
The buzzer rings out for the tenth time. The noise is even louder in the empty arena than it is on game night. Beside me, Payton and Dakota whoop and cheer for Parker. He swings around by us, blowing a kiss at us as he skates back to the red line.
Not at us. At me.
I don't take my hands off the camera to catch it, hiding my flushed face behind my thousand-dollar Nikon. Even after a week of attention from Parker, he can still make me blush in public.
Okay, he can make me blush in private, too. Who knew a jock would be so creative in the bedroom? He's getting better every day, too. It's like he's slowly tuning a radio, locking in the wavelength of Sofie FM.
"I don't know what you did to him, Sof. I'm not sure I want to know, but whatever it is, keep it up. Parker is on fire," Dakota says, her face a little awe-struck.
Parker just scored ten out of ten on Erik. In a row. He's flying across the ice like a speedskater, decking and moving like a figure, and his shots are vicious, fast things that always seem to hit the spot of the net Erik isn't blocking.
Now that I know Parker's secret, it all makes sense.
The more people watching— the bigger and louder the audience— the better he performs. But Parker doesn't care about fame or having his name splattered all over the sports pages. What he wants, what really drives him, is recognition from the people he cares about.
Me.
"Well, you're going to have your hands full tonight, Payton," Dakota chuckles. "Erik is going to be livid. Look, he's already playing angry."
Sure enough, Erik's movements are the clipped movements of a frustrated player. It doesn't help that Parker likes to showboat.
"Alright, I think we've seen enough. Did you get enough pictures, Sofie?" Payton asks.
"No, but I'll get more later," I say with a grin.
Both the girls next to me shoot each other a look and then burst into giggles. It's kind of fun being out in the open.
Parker skates up, pulling off his helmet as the other two girls head off in Erik's direction. The goalie is purposefully skating away from Parker, still pissed.
"We still on for tonight?" Parker asks, smiling up at me.
He's gorgeous all the time, but there's something about the way he looks when he's asking me about a date that makes my heart plunge off a cliff. It's the hopeful, happy look of a golden retriever. Excited by the prospect of time together.
"Of course. Why, you got somewhere else to be?" I ask, grinning.
Parker rolls his eyes.
"No, of course not." His expression shifts to seriousness, and even that is too beautiful for words. "I just meant that it's okay if you change your mind. We can always stay in again."
We've stayed in every night for the past week. Not that I'm complaining— non-plans are the best plans as far as I'm concerned. But I know Parker has been dying to take me on a date. A real date. The kind that means leaving the house.
"Hell no. I didn't go actual dress shopping with the girls just to sit at home with you, Parker." I grin, unable to hide my own excitement when his eyes light up in anticipation. "I'll see you at seven, alright?"
He reaches across the boards, pulling me in close before I can slip away. His lips sear into mine quickly, my mouth melting against his. His kisses are so varied, they're always a pleasant surprise. This one is short, sweet, and just a little spicy.
We break it as a whistle from across the arena lets us know Dakota is watching. Parker is blocking me bodily, obscuring me with his frame completely so nobody sees just how red I am.
"It's not the size of the audience. It's the quality, right?" Parker asks, his eyes sparkling with mischief and lust.
I shove him away because if I don't, I'm liable to jump him right here.
"Go get showered, Parker. I'll see you tonight," I tell him.
