My GPA is the highest it's been since freshman year. Coach said whatever I'm doing, keep doing it. I didn't tell him it was because Cecily makes me study with her at the library, or that she quizzes me on flashcards while we eat breakfast, or that she genuinely gives a shit about me being more than just a hockey player.
The ref blows the whistle, and we line up again.
I'm not distracted. I'm better.
She makes me better.
The final three minutes feel like thirty, but we hold them off. When the buzzer sounds, we've won. The crowd goes insane. My teammates are piling on top of each other, and I'm laughing, soaking it all in.
This is it. Last home game. And we fucking won.
I look up at the stands again. Cecily's clapping, jumping up and down. Marina's saying something to her, and Ce's nodding, still watching me.
I skate over to the glass where she's standing and tap it. She leans down, pressing her hand against mine through the barrier.
"You were amazing!" she mouths.
I grin. "Party at Rocky's?"
She nods, and Marina gives me a thumbs-up.
By the time I shower and change, the locker room is clearing out. Some of the guys are heading to Rocky's, and the others are going to the frat house.
Scott's already texting the group chat about who's bringing what.
I grab my bag and head out to find Cecily waiting in the hallway. She's leaning against the wall, scrolling through her phone.
"Hey, Moo," I say.
She looks up and smiles. "Hey, smut."
I drop my bag and pull her in, kissing her. She tastes like pink Starburst lip gloss.
"You were incredible out there," she says when I pull back.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." She grabs my hand.
I shrug, but I'm smiling. "Had some good motivation."
Cecily
Rocky's house is packed by the time we get there. Music's blasting, and people are everywhere. Marina waves us into the kitchen, where she's pouring drinks.
"There's the star!" she yells, throwing her arms around Dylan.
He laughs and hugs her back. "You're drunk already?"
"Tipsy," she corrects. She hands me a cup. "For you."
I take it and sip. “Is this a green drink?”
She pulls out the package from her pocket and laughs.
I belly laugh, leaning against her. I say in her ear, “I fucking love you, Marina. You’re the best.”
Dylan grabs a beer, and we make our way through the crowd. People keep stopping him to congratulate him on the game. He's polite, smiling, and thanking them, but his hand never leaves mine.
