“Of it not working out,” I blurt out. “Of him realising that I’m not what he wants.”
“I hate to sound like a cliche,” Ken starts. “But isn’t it better to have tried than not to have tried at all?”
“In movies, TV shows and books, yes. But these are my real feelings and there's a very real possibility that if this becomes more serious, he’ll realise that this isn’t going to work out,” I say, feeling the weight drop off me the second the words leave my mouth. “We’re just taking it light and breezy.”
“Ah yes,” Kennedy says in her posh British accent. “The classic ‘Light and Breezy.’ What are you? Advertising a summer drink at Starbucks? As a romance writer, you couldn’t think of anything better to determine your relationship status?”
We all laugh at that.
Honestly, who are Miles and I kidding? We’ve known each other for five months, we’ve been fake dating for most of them and we’ve slept together. We will not be able to take this light and breezy but what is the alternative? I don’t know but I’m willing to find out. The last thing I want to do is regret not trying at all.
We watch the team go through their drills, Miles taking the lead once again. I can’t tell if he just enjoys telling people what to do or if it’s actually part of his role. They start to play a quick game, zipping up and down the ice. It’s hard to keep track of who is who with the amount of gear they have on so I’m only guessing. Kennedy has finally put down her Ipad and she’s actually seeming interested. Scar is doing the thing where she’s pretending that she doesn’t care but I can hear her muttering under her breath every time Miles’ team misses the shot.
When Miles gains control of the puck on one end of the ice, he hardly looks up as he dodges the opposite team, moving quickly and efficiently. And he looks so hot as he does so. The other team has pretty much given up at this point, not even trying to defend his shot. But right before he has the perfect opportunity to get the puck into the goal, he manoeuvres closer to where we are sitting and he picks up his stick, pointing it right at me and he winks.
He fucking winks at me. Dimples popping out and all.
And I almost die.
“This one’s for you, baby,” he says before regaining control of the puck again and hitting it straight into the net. Half of me wants to scream in embarrassment as the rest of the team laugh and the other half of me wants to get down onto the ice and kiss that stupid grin off his face. Instead, I sit there and smile at him, feeling slightly on top of the world at this moment.
When they go back to playing, Scarlett leans into me, whispering, “Whether he did that for show or not, that boy is head over heels for you, babe.”
And that is exactly what I’m afraid of.
CHAPTER 35
MILES
Sleeping the night before my first game is the same as trying to go to sleep the night before Christmas. I haven’t had this feeling in such a long time. Last season, it was exhilarating but nowhere near as much as this. Maybe it’s because I haven’t played in so long. Maybe it’s also because it’s the first time Wren is going to see me play.
Since we came back from Palm Springs, I’ve been training like crazy to get back into shape for this season. The first game of the season is always the most exciting. There’s a certain type of rush in the crowd and having the first years' experience it for the first time makes this more thrilling.
We all huddle in the tunnel, psyching ourselves up to play. Most of the team rough each other up a little; bumping their chests together and howling. Others take a moment to pray to their God to guide them through the game. Grey, Harry, Xavier, and I stand in huddle, working out the logistics of the game. We had a team meeting earlier in the sports classroom to work over tactics, while we looked at past games to plan how to work around it. How to improve.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. Of course, I am. If I mess this up, they’re going to blame me because they know how far gone I have been. I have to help lead us to victory. I need to earn back some part of my respect around here.
“Don’t fuck this up, Davis,” Jake mumbles as he walks past our huddle, jabbing his hockey stick into my side. Since the fight, he’s gone back to his usual self: annoying me at any chance he can get. I ignore his relentlessness and turn back to the guys.
“As long as we play our best, that’s all that matters, right?” Harry asks, looking between us. Xavier bumps him in the shoulder playfully.
“Hilton are an easy beat,” Xavier says. “Out hustle, out work, out think, out play and out last.”
We all nod, chanting along with him. We’ve been doing these rituals for as long as I can remember. Just saying encouraging words and affirmations help us get into the get our heads into the game. It works like magic.
“Whatever it takes,” Grey shouts at the top of his lungs, this time all the guys join in with the chant.
“Whatever it takes!”
“Good afternoon, hockey fans!” Max Carhart, our student commentator announces. “Welcome to the first game of the 2022 college ice hockey season between the Hilton College Penguins and North University Bears.”
Everybody cheers and chant over the commentator as they introduce the line-up for the visitors’ team. We start to make our way out of the tunnel as they call out our names while we take our positions on the ice.
I stand in right wing, trying to focus on my breathing as we play the national anthem. I attempt to ignore the tightness in my chest and close my eyes. Big mistake. Flashes of our last game with Carter cross my mind. I can see him skating around the ice in celebration after everyone left. “We fucking did it, Davis!” he shouted, patting me on the back.
I feel the suffocation inside my helmet. I can do this. I have to do this. For Carter. I open my eyes when the national anthem is finished. I look up into the stands and I see her. Wren’s sat down, wearing my spare jersey which she stole the other night and looking absolutely devastating. She sees me and smiles wide. Kennedy sits beside her, smiling too but Scarlett frowns, not hiding her distaste for hockey. I tear my focus from them when the whistle blows.
Whatever it takes.
