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I need to focus.
First game of the season. It’s only an exhibition one, but in my mind, it still counts. We’ve got to come out strong, show we’re a contender this year. I want to win, and I want to win good.
Stamping my skates on the ground, I grab my stick and thump it against my chest, closing my eyes and going through my usual pregame ritual. I’ve been doing it since I was six, when I joined my first team and my dad coached us.
He’s given so much to me and this game. It’s his heart and passion that inspired me, his devotion that kept me skating when I got bored during my tweens. He kept pushing and dragged me into high school hockey, where his desire became my own. I owe him so much.
He’s here tonight. He drives up from Denver whenever he can, and I know he’ll be watching me with pride. And so will Mom. The idea makes me smile, as does the thought that no matter how I play, Dad always finds a way to make me feel like I did all right. Even when I puck up—as he likes to call it—he’ll be there with words of advice or comfort.
I’m his star player, and I want to make him proud.
Which is why I can’t go fucking up on this bet. I can’t sleep with Mikayla yet.
I can’t risk having to walk around campus naked. I can’t risk getting arrested or kicked off the team for acting like a douche nugget.
Which means I should probably stop texting Mikayla, thinking about her, hanging out with her.
If she wasn’t so fun to be around, this would be a hell of a lot easier. Why do I have to find her so attractive? I’d love to just slip into the friend zone with her. It’d be awesome. But one look into those eyes and I’m done for. Those lips of hers—I’ve tasted them now, felt them around my cock. There’s no way I can bejust friendswith this girl. The scary thing is I’d like to be more.
She’s not a quick fuck. She’s girlfriend material.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath, thrown from the visualization technique Dad taught me. The one where I picture myself on the ice, skating perfectly, controlling the puck, passing it off, gathering it up, firing it into the goal.
Instead, my mind is filled with Mikayla and how much I want her and how that’s such dangerous ground.
With a soft growl, I try to shove her into the back of my brain and focus up.
“We have to win tonight, guys. No excuses. No fuckups!” Jason yells across the locker room.
Great pep talk, man. Thanks.
“Okay, men, let’s do this!” Coach rounds us up for a quick pregame pep talk, which is actually a good one. He goes over a few of the key pointers we’ve been working on leading up to this game before sending us out to the ice.
The second my skates hit that smooth surface and I hear the roar of the crowd around me, I’m able to center myself again.
This is what it’s about.
This team. This game.
I can’t go messing it up over a girl.
Spotting my dad in the crowd, I raise my stick and earn myself a proud grin. Then I force myself not to hunt the crowd for Mikayla.
Even after the month is up and I can finally have her all the way… do I seriously want that?
College isn’t for girlfriends and romance.
I need to get my head in the game and keep it there.
CHAPTER29
MIKAYLA
The arena is packed when I get there, but I manage to find a seat next to a redhead with apple-green eyes who talks a mile a minute. She doesn’t even know me, but the second I sit down, she introduces herself.
“Caroline.” She grins, her smile a bright beam like she’s in her personal happy place.
I give her a polite smile, then glance at her friend, who gives me an uninterested look before going back to her phone.
