“Since when doyouwatch hockey?” Ham’s voice cuts through the air.
Startling, I jerk my head back and nearly drop the phone. Ham leans in my doorway with his arms crossed and a smug expression on his face.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I slide my phone behind my back.
“You think I don’t recognize what you’re doing?" He gives a quiet laugh. “The real question is, why the sudden interest? Is this payback for Mom making you fake date to cover for her hockey blunder?”
“I seriously have no idea what you are talking about. I wasn’t watching hockey. I was reviewing notes.” I smash my phone screen down on my comforter. “I want to make sure I don’t forget anything when I introduce Mom for her big speech next week.”
“You’re a terrible liar.” He slowly shakes his head. “Now, tell me why you all of a sudden care about hockey, and I won’t tell Mom you were watching it all through dinner.”
I straighten, letting my eyes drift around the room. Ham and I aren’t exactly close, but we get along. I could come up with some lame excuse, but the truth is, as Tyson’s close friend, Ham’s in a position to help me. Maybe I’ll regret it, but I take a risk. “So, the other day, you and Ty were talking about me, and I heard everything he said through his butt dial.”
His brows bend down as if he’s remembering. “Wait. What did you hear?”
“All of it,” I add quietly. “About how he thinks about me, and…the truth is, I can’t stop thinking about him, and it’s been likethis for a while. Maybe we are both infected with some thinking disease. I also can’t stop looking at him. I mean, have you ever really watched him play hockey before? He’s HOT!”
“Seriously, Lottie.” He makes a gagging noise as he turns his back to me for a second and pretends to be ill. “He’s my best friend. You’re my sister. Why is this getting weird?”
“I didn’t do anything to make it weird.” My hand flies forward in a gesture that mirrors the desperation that’s budding in my chest. I never asked for things to be this complicated, and I’m at such a loss of how to fix it.
He studies me for a long second before he sighs. “You know Ty really well. I mean, you probably know him almost as well as I do. I hope you aren’t just curious because he’s getting a lot of attention now with the tournament and you’re bored, because what I saw in his face when he confessed that all to me is he really cares about you.”
“I heard it too in his voice.”
He peers out into the hall, making sure the coast is clear before looking back at me. “If you’re serious about liking him, then stop pretending you don’t want it. He’s a good guy, but he’s not one to play games with. He won’t handle you leading him on and then ghosting him.”
“I’m not going to lead him on,” I hesitate, “but are you forgetting I’m not supposed to date hockey players? And I have a new fake boyfriend the whole world is fascinated with?”
He lifts one shoulder. “Since when has Mom forbidding you from doing something ever stopped you?”
It’s my turn to shrug. I’m not rebellious.
“Just—” he adds, softer now. “Look, I’m headed back to my place for the night, and I don’t care to get in your business. This whole thing is cringe to me. I can’t tell you what to do, but I know he has feelings for you—and they are genuine. You two needto talk before this fake-dating mess gets any worse, and before someone else decides your life for you.”
I swallow hard because he has some good points. As he turns on his heel to leave, my heart races. My gaze snags on my phone.
Should I call him tonight?
That sends a rock to the pit of my gut.
I wish I knew what to do.
twenty-one
Tyson
It’sgametime,andthe second my skates hit the ice, nerves fire through me. Instead of fighting them, I let them fuel me. When the puck drops, my team quickly takes control of it. Within moments, it comes my way, and I don’t even have to think. I’m open, and I shoot a clean wrister with an easy release. It goes exactly where I want it to go.
For a split second, the arena goes silent, or maybe that’s in my head. I have tunnel vision as I watch the puck slide across the ice and into the net. When it hits the back of the net, the crowd explodes.
Stone is on me first, slamming his glove into mine. Kingston jumps on me next, and it’s knuckies all around as the hornblares. That does nothing to silence the crowd as it continues to lose its mind. I can’t hide the fact I’m relieved we got the first goal. I’m even more relieved I finally did something that might make it look like I actually deserve to wear this C. This is how respect is earned, and I’m here for it. The pressure in my gut doesn’t release though.
Unstoppable, my goal song, plays as I skate back to the bench with a niggling thought popping into the back of my head.Is Lottie watching?Yeah, she said her mom would never allow her to come in person. Maybe she’s at home with the game on? My chest tightens, but I don’t have time to overthink it, because the game gets chippy fast. Houli gets into it with Leniecker behind our net. I sort of want to laugh, because Houli has it coming with all the pranks he’s played this week. Shoves are exchanged. Even though no calls are made against either side, my stomach knots anyway.
Stuff like that has a way of boiling over later.
Then Jeremiah Precio gets called for holding Baptiste Marchand, and suddenly we’re a man down. The Stripes team gets a power play and keeps the puck moving around our zone. I count every second until we finally survive the penalty.
