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“I’m fine,” I assure her. “I want to be here for moral support. He won’t say it out loud, but I know he’s nervous. I can’t even remember the last time he asked me to come to a game. It seemed like he needed me here.”
“The announcers will rip him a new one if they lose.” She gulps down the last of her hot chocolate and sets the empty cup on the floor next to her foot. “They’re so harsh when it comes to coaches. You saw what they did to Coach Vaughn last year when we lost to Villanova.”
“Yep.” I cross my fingers and hold them up for her to see. “That was pretty brutal. Let’s hope for a win. I have a good feeling.”
My dad made sure we had the best seats in the Strickland Skate Zone. We’re in the lower bowl, right behind the goal and in the front row. Close to the action, I can see each of the players perfectly. The only drawback is trying to observe down the ice. It’s nearly impossible to know who has possession of the puck.
“Yes,” Taylor says, cheering along with the crowd.
I rise to my feet when I see Preston skating down the ice on a breakaway. For such a big guy, Preston is so graceful. He makes it appear effortless. Now I remember why I fell for a player once upon a time. Hockey players are sexy, like way too tempting. It’s hard enough to play a sport on foot let alone on skates. And then Preston has to be so… Preston.
I place my hand on the Plexiglas, craning my neck to get a better look now that Preston is only a few feet away from me. He takes a shot. It’s deflected by the goaltender’s stick and bounces hitting Tucker in the leg. It drops to the ice, and Tucker draws back his stick. Deflected again.
Preston regains possession attempting to pass it. But no one has a clear shot. He takes a Hail Mary of a shot, and this time, the puck sails between the legs of the goaltender.
The horn sounds, and the crowd goes wild. My face hurts from smiling. With the cold, it might permanently freeze this way.
“They scored!” Taylor screams in my ear.
I chuckle. “I know.”
We high-five each other as if we’re on the court together and just scored the winning point. I’m so happy for Preston and the team. And, of course, my dad. I was on edge all day over the game.
“That was hot.” Taylor lowers her voice. “Your man looks so good.”
I shake my head. “He’s not my man.”
“But he can be. I read his texts, too. He definitely likes you.” She smiles. “I’m sure he doesn’t let his mom meet many girls.”
“Don’t remind me. I’m already freaking out about meeting Coach. She’s a legend in the sports world. I mean, how often does something like this happen to normal people?”
“I wish I could come along for the ride. Could you imagine having her as your mom? That must be so awesome.”
“I know, right?”
“I would kill to meet her. She’s so badass.”
“I’m sure that could be arranged. I’ll ask Preston tomorrow. Let me see how it goes first.”
Taylor smiles. “She’ll love you.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “I hope so.”
Taylor cups my shoulder with her hand diverting my attention from the ice to her. “Don’t sweat it. Once you’ve won her over, and I know you will, then I can meet her, too.”
Meeting my childhood idol is a big deal.Why does she have to have such a hot son?Ugh, Preston is too delicious for words. He doesn’t even have to do anything special to make me notice him. Or stop thinking about him. He just stands out. A guy like him, with his looks and talent, is seen by everyone.
After the Strickland Senators hit each other on the backs and do their usual hockey hugs, Preston turns around about to skate back to the bench when his eyes meet mine. My hand is already on the glass, and he taps the other side with his glove, shaking the layer between us. Electricity dances along my skin from the carnal look in his eyes. My throat just about closes up.
He takes out his mouth guard and smiles. I return his expression and mouth,Nice shot.As if he understands me, he winks. Then he skates away, leaving me with my dirty thoughts—ones that involve all the things I want him to do to me.
This is bad. So, so bad.
ChapterEight
PRESTON
I’m nervous. This never happens to me. Raising my hand to knock on Bex’s door, I choke back the bile rising from my stomach. Jefferson Hall, the senior dormitory, is deserted this early. Everyone sleeps in from the parties the night before. I never get that luxury with my hockey schedule.
