“Oh…I’m sorry.” Linden ducks his head.
Next to him Yardley snorts: “Come on, Lind, Soft is a big boy, I’m sure he’ll get over it, right?”
I frown, only reluctantly looking at Nicko’s other roommate. I have no idea why Nicko likes Yardley when everything about him is grating, especially his personality. Something I know well from the Alliance meetings.
“Of course I will, but I can be disappointed, can’t I?”
“Should’ve tried harder when you had the chance.”
“Olli, stop,” Linden throws in, putting a hand over the others’ arm. It doesn’t deter either of us.
”Ididtry! What do you even know about hockey?”
“Uh, I know that the little round thing is supposed to get into the square net thing.” Yardley sticks out his tongue.
I just shake my head. “You’re an idiot.”
“Youasked!”
“Because you–”
“THEY SCORED!”
We all jump when Nicko bursts out, shooting up from his seat and spilling popcorn everywhere. There’s a sting of disappointment going through me—I knew BostonU would eventually stop toying with the Wildcats and bring it home—until I turn to look at the screen. The TV shows the crowd screaming their heads off. But their faces are all painted…red?
“What?”
“Look, look!” Nicko points, jumping up and down.
Finally, the replay starts. The Wildcats’ right winger intercepts a sloppy pass by the BostonU center and makes a break for it. He’s a scarlet blur across the ice. The defense narrows in on him, but the puck is already in motion. It sails by the gobsmackedgoalie. The camera angle shifts, showing a close-up of the puck hitting the net, the shooter’s exhilarated face—and then it cuts back to the stadium in uproar.
“Oh, my God!” I can’t believe it. They’re tied! The game will go into overtime!
For the next few minutes, we’re all spellbound by the TV, barely daring to breathe. All of a sudden, there’s action on the ice. The players flit back and forth. The Wildcats are fighting back, breaking out from their locked in defense. Meanwhile BostonU struggles to keep up.
“Come on, come on, COME ON!” Nicko and I shout in unison as the Wildcats’ center narrowly avoids a tackle, tripping over a D-man’s stick, but he shoots before he falls and–
“YES!”
We cheer, drowning out the noise of the crowd on TV. Moments later the horn sounds, finalizing the result I didn’t dare hope for: New Hampshire just beat BostonU, kicking them down to third place! The Bats are back in second place! We’re going to the regionals!
“Holy shit!” I shout again, jumping up as well. Nicko’s hands find mine and we’re bouncing up and down like we were the ones shooting that goal.
“Congrats,” Linden chimes in, but I barely pay him any attention as I wrap Nicko up in a hug. We’ll have to worry about possibly playing against one another soon enough; for now I’m too excited to think about that.
Nicko apparently doesn’t need any time for that adjustment: “I can’t wait to destroy you and Nate!” he chirps gleefully and hops off toward the kitchen.
I snort and shake my head, raising my brows at his roommates as they follow; Yardley with a grin and Linden with a short wave to me.
I pull out my buzzing phone to not eavesdrop on their potential kitchen conversations. There’s wave after wave of texts from Nate coming in, each a wall of exclamations along with an onslaught of Snaps of him and our team and their blurry celebration. I grin and send some emojis and GIFs back at him.
Nicko still hasn’t returned when Nate goes back to celebrating, so I take a quick selfie in front of the happy Wildcats on the TV screen. Loading up Instagram I lean back into the couch. I smile when I see the posts of Nate and the others sitting at the top of my notifications. I upload the picture and type a short text.
Congrats to @NHWildcats for kicking BostonAss! We #St.BBats owe you big time! ;)
I decorate it with a bat sticker before posting it to my Story.
“Growing your following, Xanxan?” Nicko snarks as he returns from the kitchen. He leans over the back of the couch, and I show him my post. He snickers.
