Nope.
My gut tells me he’s coming right to me, and whatever the fuck is in that bag can fuck aaaaaaall the way off.
He kinda half-squats next to me, ignoring the ruckus a few kids are making behind us. Guess he’s one of the players. “My buddy tells me you’re wearing the wrong name on your shoulders.”
Oh, does he indeed?
He snorts. “Told me you’d eye roll when I said it too.”
Of course he did.
He places the bag on my lap. “How about you give the jersey with my name on it”—he jerks his chin at the shirt I’m wearing—“to your friend here.” He winks at Penelope next to me, and she turns the color of the sun. “She needs to replace that dish rag she’s wearing with a good team.”
Once again, she is wearing the shirt of the opposing team. Last time I saw her she wore a Snow Pirates shirt, and this time she’s got a Flint Flame’s shirt draped on her. My dude here has a point—she sticks out like a sore thumb.
“Tate.” He flashes a blinding grin at the girl to my left.
“Penelope.” She takes his outstretched hand and shakes it.
Knew it began with a P.
“Not my shirt to hand over I’m afraid, lover boy.”
He shrugs. “Did my part. Got the shirt to you. What you do with it is up to you.”
It’s my turn to grin. “Tell yourbuddyit’ll make great kindling for the fire pit in my back yard after the game.”
His face falls. “That’s cold. Ice cold.”
“I’m a complex woman.”
“I’ll say.” He gets up and leaves, casting one last hesitant look back in my direction as Eloise returns to her seat. I cram the bag between my feet, willing her with the strength of my eyes not to ask.
I don’t want to support the fact Raffi is playing hockey by wearing it. But I also kinda hope the shirt smells like him so when I get home I can roll around in it and pretend I’m snuggling him now that I don’t have to hate him for leaving me a barefoot and pregnant freshman.
“We’re going to have to talk about it all at some point, you know.”
“Not yet.”
CHAPTER 19
Raffi
It’s nil-nil here in the second in Cedar Rapids. With Tate injured in the stands, there’s a chance for one of our rookies, Angel Ferrara, to get a shot in but the Flame’s goaltender is quick off his line and closes the door. Begrudgingly, I concede it’s a nice save. Not only is it a great save, but he’s able to hold onto the rebound despite both of us chipping at him to get it free.
After the line change, Apollo controls the puck, sending it back to the blue line for Jackson Gilbert, who skates it back down into the circle, tipping it over to Apollo who tries to create space in front of the crease.
The Flame’s goaltender’s back door is wide open, and none of the Raccoons can ram it home. Apollo picks it up and feeds it out to Scott Raine close to the blue line, but the netminder smacks it away into the corner.
Ferrara sends the puck down the wall to me. I have options. Quick assessment and I send it back to Angel. Apollo’s on the far side, Ferrara heads down ice, gets it to Apollo, there’s a tip in front, two tips, and gets it back to me. As I passit back to Ferrara, my calf muscles burn under the weight of the second period. Ferrara looks for a backdoor play, takes the shot, and puts the biscuit in the basket.
The crowd goes wild. Well, almost all of them. There’s one redhead who seems to be chewing on her thumbnail so much I’d be surprised if there’s a thumb left by the end of the game.
Did something happen? Why is she so anxious? And why the hell is she wearing Tate’s shirt? She might not be mine, but she sure as hell isn’t his either. Not sure what it is, but seeing a girl you like wear another man’s number does something to a guy.
Part of me wants to hop the goddamn plexiglass and make her change her shirt right here and now. It wouldn’t end well for me, but fuck is it tempting as hell.
Two big saves from Ares has the crowd on their feet yet again, solid, high quality catches. The guy’s a fucking wall. Morris from the Flames strolls almost nonchalantly into the zone but is robbed by the de la Peña between the pipes once again. Ares is bailing out our D across the board right now and they really need to work on tightening up our defense.
