Page 63 of A Scoring Chance
“Never say skibidi again.” Annamarie pinches the bridge of her nose. “You aren’t cool because you can use nonsense Gen Z phrases. That’s one thing that will never happen.”
“What do you mean?”
“You being cool.” Annamarie storms off toward the door, no doubt in search of the new outfit she offered me a few moments earlier.
But Alise isn’t done with Cordelia and her nonsense yet. “Not to mention wearing pink. It’s not Wednesday, after all.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s almost breast cancer awareness month. We always wear pink in October,” Cordelia rebuts, but Alise isn’t having it.
“Every day? Really? You walk around looking like a bottle of Pepto willingly. Seriously, you could just wear a pink ribbon pin like almost every other human being on the planet.”
I’d love nothing more than to let this verbal sparring match continue between these two, but I need another drink and some food. “Why don’t you run along and continue scheming and failing about how to get a Hendrix brother to give you the time of day? Melanie and Darius are waiting for us.” I thread my arm through Alise’s and practically drag her toward the other side of the suite where Ms. Melanie and Darius are waiting.
“My hero.” Alise lays her head on my shoulder, pretending to swoon.
“Don’t start, you.”
“Okay. Okay. I just want to say that I can’t wait to see their heads spin when Cooper comes into the suite looking for you.”
“Me either.”
Much to my dismay, Cordelia leaves the suite a few minutes after we rejoin Darius and Ms. Melanie. However, I remain on edge, waiting for her or Annamarie to attack. Neither one of them takes too kindly to losing.
“Did you miss me?” Cooper whispers in my ear, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me tight against him. “I knew my last name would look good on you.”
“Of course.” I spin in his arms and plant a kiss on the edge of his chin.
“Come on, you can do better than that, Beauty.” My knees weaken as his lips press against mine softly. My hand tangles in the short hairs at the base of his neck as the other grips hisshoulder. I use the leverage to raise onto my toes to deepen the kiss further. Fire ignites in my belly as memories from this morning filter in.
“Unless you want everyone in this room to see me do some very indecent things to you, we need to stop. If not, then please keep kissing me like that.”
“Point taken.” I smile against his lips before stepping out of his embrace and threading my fingers through his.
Cooper pulls me toward the wall of glass at the front of the box and through a door I didn’t notice before. The sounds of the arena as it fills with spectators reach my ears.
“You’re going to need to explain this to me because I know nothing except that the little black thing goes into the net.”
He pulls me down into one of the stadium chairs near the railing, lifting my legs to lie across his lap. “That’s the gist of it. There are three twenty-minute periods with an intermission after each one. The Timberwolves are in white, and the Wolverines are in red. The teams switch sides after every period.”
“Simpler.”
“When the puck gets past Beau, boo. If it goes into the other net, cheer. Easy, right?” His hand absentmindedly massages my calves.
“And where is Beau, exactly?” I lean forward, my head swiveling back and forth, searching for the last name Hendrix.
“Right there, in the net.” Cooper points toward the left side of the rink where someone about Beau’s size is stretching. I can’t see anything but the green-and-black pads covering the person’s arms and legs, a helmet completely covering their face, with a large Timberwolves logo and a design of some sort in the team colors on the side.
“He’s a goalie?” Cooper nods his head, his eyes never leaving the ice. “That’s gotta suck for your brother.”
I know there’s a lot of pressure to score points and win a game, but being the one to stop the shots has to be even more pressure. Not only do you need to help your team score points, but you also need to keep the other team from scoring them, as well. I don’t know much about sports, but being the last line of defense between a win and a loss has to be the most stressful position on the team.
“Which one?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, completely confused by his question.
“Cole plays for the Wolverines as a starting center. Not only does he have to score to win, but he has to do so against one of his older brothers. I’m not sure the thought has even crossed Beau’s mind. Sure, it sucks when we’re scored on, but he can’t be perfect all the time.”
“Wait, your younger brother plays for the other team?”
