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Unless she decided to play some devilish game and have socks count and one goal apiece or something silly.
Which meant I’d need to score ten goals to get her naked.
One player scoring ten goals in one game?
I skated back to the bench.
Mags was beside himself. “That’s how you play the game, guys! Go to the net! Take the shots! You never know what can happen! They’re scrambling now! Arguing over what to do next! Keep the fucking pressure up! Go!”
I got back into position for the next face-off once the TV time-out ended.
The entire time I thought about Fiona.
I pictured her standing in front of the television in the hotel room.
Watching me score the first goal.
Smiling.
Slowly taking her pants off and kicking them away.
Then after the second goal, reaching for the bottom of her shirt, shaking her head, still smiling.
That meant if I was correct, Fiona stood there in front the television in the hotel room wearing nothing but her bra and panties.
I thought about the colors…
Did they match?
Or was she not worried?
After all, the goal was to get everything on the floor, right?
Was her bra pink? Or black?
Or were her panties pink? Or black?
Or maybe a dark red. Wine red.Blood red.
Or some flirty light blue color with-
“Wake the fuck up, Riff!”
I snapped my head back at Remi and curled my lip.
The puck had dropped and I was lost in another world.
“Fuck,” I whispered.
I skated forward.
I took a hit to my right shoulder and went down to the ice.
Pain moved through the right side of my body.
The fans cheered.
Mags called on the refs to blow the whistle.
