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“I heard that,” Jared says as he walks past my room.
“Shit, we’re going to have to take him out,” I laugh.
“I’ll do it,” Sophie declares. “You’re too soft.”
Jared laughs from the kitchen and calls out again. “Just make sure you cremate my body and scatter my ashes at sea so I can forever live on with the sailors.”
I laugh and roll my eyes. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
“Sophie, Danielle,” Professor Whitaker says as the bell sounds through her auditorium. “Can I see you both for a moment?”
We give each other a brief look and shrug as the class begins to clear out. We make our way down the stairs and wait by her desk as she finishes collecting her notes.
She makes her way over to us and puts her things down. “I just wanted to commend you both for the work you’ve done on the assignment so far. The article you submitted for the Dragons was fresh and intriguing. It worked in favor of drawing a new crowd while simultaneously keeping the regular fans appropriately updated.”
“Thank you,” we say in unison.
“I heard some good things from Coach Harris,” she says, almost sounding impressed that anyone was able to gain a compliment out of the guy. “He’s quite pleased, and apparently, your efforts have created a positive effect on restoring their reputation. I believe he’s quite taken with you both.”
“Really?” Sophie scoffs. “He certainly didn’t give us that impression.”
“Oh?” she laughs. “You know how these athletic types are. Coach Harris is certainly no exception to that.” She comes around the side of her desk while looking at the two of us. “Did you have success with your calendar?”
“Oh, yes,” I say, pulling my phone out and showing her a few of the promotional images I have.
“Wow, you seem to be taking this assignment quite seriously. Do you mind if I ask which venues you’re using to promote this?” she asks, quickly flicking through the images, not lingering on any of them and keeping it professional.
“We created a Facebook page and other social media accounts which have managed to get quite a following, so we’ve posted about it there and on their website. Then we set up a stall at their game, which was a hit,” Sophie explains.
Professor Whitaker hands my phone back to me. “Excellent work,” she encourages. “What do you plan to do with the proceeds?”
“We aren’t too sure yet, but we believe Coach Harris would like to donate it to the Denver Youth Hockey Program. We’ll probably award it to them at one of the later games of the season.”
“I think that would be a wise idea. Perhaps you could invite some of the children to come and skate with the Dragons,” she suggests, leaning against her desk. I see the excitement in her eyes and realize she loves this just as much as I do.
Sophie and I get into a lengthy conversation with her as we bring forward all our ideas and plans for the next few months, and she goes through all the pros and cons, making sure we’re all on the same page. I eat up every word of her advice.
“I won’t keep you any longer,” she says, glancing at the time on her phone and realizing we’ve been here almost twenty minutes. “I’ve got a heap of work to get through.”
“Sure thing. Thank you,” Sophie says, as I give Professor Whitaker a grateful smile.
“I look forward to your next article,” she tells us, taking her seat at her desk as we exit the room.
We make our way out into the hallway while giving each other smug expressions, knowing damn well we’re killing this assignment. “So, what do you say we do for the afternoon?” Sophie questions, handing me her bag as she pulls her hair up into a bun high on her head. “Head to the gym? Lounge out watching a movie? Or perv on the guys?”
Excitement thrums through my veins. “Do you even have to ask?” I smirk as she breaks into laughter. We head over to the ice rink and sneak in through the side entrance, before quietly making our way up the grandstand. We take our seats, and I glance down to the ice, smiling as my eyes land on Miller. I take in the way he dominates the ice, his moves mesmerizing me.
Tingles spread over my body the same way they do every time I watch him skate. He’s amazing, there’s simply no other way to put it. He glides across the ice like he was born to lead this team. He rushes forward with his hockey stick and effortlessly steals the puck off another player before shooting it forward. My eyes follow the puck as it sails through the air, past the goalie, and slams into the netting behind him.
The need to jump up and cheer for him crashes through me, but I do my best to rein it in. As if sensing my gaze on him, Miller turns and looks up into the grandstand, his eyes instantly finding mine. He gives me a smug, wicked grin before getting on with his training.
