Coach continues. “I’m serious. If I find out you guys put stakes on this,any kind of stakes, I’ll have you both scrub the men’s locker room showers.” She pauses. “And put you on equipment cleaning with Kaiser.”
I stop, watching Darcy’s shoulders tense. I want to press. To push. To piss Darcy off because it seems like that’s what entices her to kiss me. But upsetting Coach in the process isn’t a good idea.
“Fine.” I surrender. “No bet.”
“What about a game?” Darcy asks, almost desperately, her gaze flitting between Coach and me.
Her prerogative is simple: win, by any means necessary.
I’ve come to realize that winning is Darcy’s ultimate game. Winning at making me want her, winning at being right on the ice, and now, winning at this.
I think it’s time she learns how to lose.
Coach tilts her head back, letting out a dramatic groan. “Oh my god,” she says, taking another drawn-out sip of her beer. Darcy and I lock eyes, and I bite back a grin. “Whatever. Just please, leave me out of it.”
That freckled smile breaks across Darcy’s face, and it makes everything in me flutter.
“What’s the game?” I ask, folding my arms.
She grins. “Well, we don’t have practice until Monday, so… Sabertooths score, I take a shot. Porcupines score, you take a shot.”
I pause, considering as Coach pipes in.
“You really want to go down that road?” she asks, eyeing us both.
My eyes catch Darcy’s before turning back to Coach, nodding and replying in unison: “Yes.”
Her stare goes blank, and she lets out a heavy sigh, looking back at the screen without another word.
I lean in toward Darcy again. “What about blocks? Penalties?”
She shakes her head. “Just scores, Cap.”
I study her for a moment and then nod. “Fine. Just scores.”
“Is she always this much of a lightweight?” Coach asks, watching Darcy lean forward, blocking half the screen with her giant head as she yells, “Oh, c’mon! That’s not a penalty! What, are you blind?!”
Bailey reaches out and gently pulls her back into her seat.
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “She’s your kid.”
Coach sighs, glancing at the screen. Her brows furrow. “She’s only had two shots and she’s already… likethis?” She gestures vaguely at Darcy, who’s now throwing her hands up in disbelief as a Porcupines player gets sent to the penalty box with only a minute left on the clock.
“Does it run in the family?” I ask, grinning.
Coach shoots me a look that could salt the Earth. “Watch it, Clarke.”
I laugh sheepishly. “Kidding.”
The Sabertooths’ center, Vivienne Kyro, lands a perfect icing shot into the net, and I cheer along with Harlowe, Bailey, Indie, and Lena. Everyone else groans dramatically. Darcy just turns toward me and taps the table like a flaming furious tyrant.
“Sure you wanna take it?” I ask, raising a brow. “There’s only a minute left in the game. I’ll let it slide.”
Darcy narrows her eyes and jabs a finger at me. “Are you calling me a quitter?”
I can’t help myself. I bring her a shot.
I love watching the way her face scrunches when she takes them. Her nose wrinkles and she makes this disgusted little “blech” sound before chasing it with a lactose-free peanut butter milkshake. A combination that’s deeply concerning, and kind of adorable.
