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The crowd is cheering, deafening us with their support and I look around the arena, punch the air in victory, and give out an almighty cheer as happiness rushes through my body. I cast my gaze around the ecstatic fans and commit to memory the electric feeling buzzing through my veins. I never want that feeling to end.
Adrenaline pumping, heart racing, sweat dripping into my eyes, I race toward Leon with the biggest smile across my lips. Along with every player, we pile on top of him in celebration, screaming and roaring as dopamine floods our brains, triggering that good reward feeling. I don’t envy him being stuck at the bottom of that pile. It’s painful as hell when that happens, but the best feeling knowing you helped to win the game. What a fucking rush.
The arena goes wild and we unpeel ourselves from Leon, allowing him to bathe in the appreciation and love from the fans.
I take a moment to look over at Lily. Her hands are in the air and she’s whooping, cheering, singing, and clapping along to our anthem.
Hell yeah.
We may have won our first pre-season game, but I think I won something much better.
Her.
Bring on the season.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Lily
“It was incredible,” I swoon dreamily, shouting over the thumping music in the multicolored neon lit nightclub I’m now standing in, following a quick change into my sparkly black dress back at my apartment.
I took a cab ride into the city to meet up with my sister, along with Kourtney, and her boyfriend, Drew, for cocktails before we made our way to opening night of their friend’s new club, Lyrical. It’s a pretty cool place and I’m glad I came now, although the other part of me wishes Ash were here, so I could tell him how brilliant he was and celebrate with him.
Amused by my enthusiasm, Kourtney shakes her head in disbelief. “The girl who lived in New York for years, couldn’t have given a fuck about hockey, now has a new obsession with the game. You are fickle, Lily Murphy.”
“I can vouch for that,” my sister jumps in.
“Oh, be quiet, Gemma.” I dismiss her sarcastic tone. “He’s so––”
“Dreamy,” Drew interrupts, appearing behind Kourtney and impersonating a woman’s voice. Kourtney joins in. “My boyfriend’s so dreamy.” Her voice, now three times higher, makes Drew laugh out loud.
“I hate you two.” I ignore them and move in time to the bassy music. Adrenaline continues to run white hot through my veins. I refuse to let anyone burst my happy bubble.
Unable to contain myself when the game started, I was on my feet, shouting Ash’s name. I got swept away by the passion of the fans and when Ash scored a goal, I was whooping and screaming with so much euphoria, I made myself dizzy.
Pride blossoms in my chest. I wanted to stay with him after the game, offering to cancel tonight but when he mentioned an after-game press conference, shower, post workout on a stationary bike session to flush toxins or lactic acid from his body or something I didn’t quite understand, I knew he had a jammed packed schedule. So, it made sense for me to go off and follow through with my original plans.
There is a lot more that goes on behind the scenes to being a hockey player than I imagined. It sounded hectic and demanding, but Ash seemed to take it all in his stride. Especially when his teammates all stared at us with curiosity in the area outside of the locker rooms. Not one of them uttered a word, but the shoulder taps and helmet slaps accompanied by toothy smiles and winks all confirmed what they were thinking; it’s about time.
I take a sip of my almost empty cocktail glass then continue to tell them how enigmatic Ash was tonight, not caring if Kourtney and Drew think I’m a lust filled fool. “The way he moves on the ice is almost unreal.” He must have rocket fueled propulsion canisters attached to his skates or something to make him move that fast because he’s a big guy and yet he skims over the ice with skill, agility, and speed, switching directions without hesitation.
Holding my arms in the air, I sway to the music, feeling warm and fuzzy from the two drinks I’ve had. “Hockey is my new addiction,” I shout over the music, not caring who hears me.
“Ash Johansson is your new addiction,” Kourtney sings over the music before Gemma points downward and says, “And he’s coming this way.” We all look over the glass balcony we are standing against.
I gasp. “No way.” My eyes pop out of my head as he, and the other members of The Eagles, some with their partners, snake through the crowd, as if they are Moses parting the Red Sea. They move in the direction of the elevator to the VIP area we have exclusive access to.
“I arranged it with Ollie.” Kourtney winks at me.
I suppose having the entire Eagles team here on opening night is good for Ollie’s new nightclub. I would have agreed to giving them VIP tickets too.
As if he can feel the weight of my stare, Ash looks up, rendering me momentarily speechless and all I can summon my body to do is pathetically finger wave as my heart skips in time to the pounding music.
Square jaw set with determination; he quickens his pace as he leads from the front.
I can’t believe Ash is here, in this club, on his way to me.
When he disappears into the elevator, I turn to Kourtney and Gemma. “Do I look okay? Is my dress too short? Can you see my ass? How do my boobs look?” I grab the girls and reel off a dozen more questions. If I knew Ash was coming, I would have spent more time doing my makeup instead of applying it haphazardly in the taxi ride here.
