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- CHAPTER TWO -
Noah
Holy shit. It’s really her. Hazel is really here!
“Noah! Fucking hell! Get with it!” Miles Johnson, the captain of the team, screams at me.
I glance up at the scoreboard. Two minutes to go. We need a goal or we’re going to overtime. Again.
I’ve played my worst game all season. I can’t concentrate.
From the moment my sister called out to me in the warmup, I’ve been on another planet. Not because she was here. No. That’s normal. I swear Ellie loves this fucking team more than I do. If we lose this game, she’ll feel it more than I ever have.
No. It’s not her distracting me.
It’s the curvy bombshell next to her. Hazel Marie Harris. I can almost feel the warmth of her soft cheeks from the ice. She’s a few rows back, and there’s a protective glass shield and at least a hundred angry Canadians between us, but her scent floats through the cold air of the stadium, soothing me like a magic potion.
I grip my stick, looking through the wires on my helmet, I search for the auburn hair of my sister’s best friend. There was a moment in the second period when I was staring up at her blue eyes when I swear the clock stopped.
I couldn’t believe it. She’s back. An excited flutter filled my body, but it was short lived.
A piece of advice? Don’t ever let your guard down on the ice. I stopped skating for two seconds, and before I knew it, I had a fist to my gut and my jersey pulled up over my head.
I’m Noah Edwards.
Last season I was voted the hottest prospect since the man himself, Wayne Gretzky. I was recruited to the Vancouver Vikings on my twelfth birthday, and I made my debut as a skinny seventeen year old. Now, I’m MVP of the league. But with that title comes a giant fucking target above my head.
Oppositions seek me out. It’s their job to take off my head. If they can’t beat me on the ice, they just beat me. It’s that simple.
I’m the lifeblood of the Vancouver Vikings. And I’m the reason we’re undefeated this season.
Until now.
“Honest to God, if you don’t move your fucking ass, I’ma come over there and shove that stick up your ass!” Miles Johnson screams at me from his position as goaltender.
I slap the top of my helmet and narrow my eyes. A wild roar echoes around the rink and the clock ticks down to the final minute of the game. The crowd are standing, fists throwing wildly in the air, cheering for their team to get over the line.
I bite down on my mouth guard.
Get through this and you can go and talk to her.
“Yes! Parker! Here!”
Parker Phillips looks up. He sees me and passes the tiny black puck my way. I control it with a delicate touch of my stick. My hands pulse against the wooden handle. I can feel the vibration of the chanting crowd. It wills me on, and I look up to see a pair of wild eyes coming my way.
“Not today,” I grunt.
I tense my body and hunch over just as the opposing defensemen charges me. He puts too much of his own weight forward, and I notice. Bad move. I flick him over my shoulder, sending him face first to the ice with ease. A wild ovation fills the stadium, and I can see shirts and scarves flying around in the stands.
I look across the ice. A clear path to goal has opened up, and I push forward on my skates.
“Ten! Nine!”
I block out the crowd. My lungs are exploding as I gasp for breath. My eyes fix on the goaltender. He’s big and bulky, only allowing the tiniest of spaces for me to steer the puck through. He’s been fucking brilliant all game. Save after save after brilliant-fucking-save. But enough is enough.
I race forward.
“Five! Four!”
I’m one on one with the goalie. My wrists work the puck side to side, my heart thumping against my chest as I draw to within inches of the goal. This is my moment. This is what I live for. Hockey is my life and that’s why I’m the fucking best in the league. I show it week in week out, and tonight is going to be no different.
Especially when she’s here.
“Two! One!”
Pulling my stick back, I eyeball the goalie and smile. I whack the puck with my stick, steering it past him and into the net.
“GOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAALLLL!”
