Erik grins at me as the ref escorts him to the penalty box. I want to say something else, something that acknowledges what he just did for me, but he's already being shoved into the box.
The game continues without him. I try to focus, try to make something happen, but Brighton's all over us now. By the time Erik's penalty expires, we're down 2-1, and I can feel the momentum slipping away.
We battle through the rest of the period, but it's not enough. Brighton scores again with two minutes left, and when the buzzer sounds ending the first period, we're down 3-1.
I skate off the ice feeling like shit.
The locker room is loud when we file in—guys calling out plays, Coach already at the whiteboard, the athletic trainer checking Erik's knuckles for broken bones. I tune it all out and head straight for my bag, pulling out my phone.
One new message.
My heart does something stupid and hopeful as I open it.
Princess <3:Sure. I’ll be there at ten.
I reread the message a couple of times and then smile.
She said yes.
She fucking said yes!
I type back quickly.
Scotty:Great! I’ll see you then.
I'm still grinning at my phone when I look up—and freeze.
Every single person in the locker room is staring at me.
“What?!” I bark, heat creeping up my neck.
Alex crosses his arms, a knowing smirk spreading across his face. “Shit, maybe he is getting secret blow jobs.”
The room erupts in laughter and wolf whistles. Erik leans back against his locker. “Told you assholes he wasn't on drugs.”
“Fuck off,” I mutter, shoving my phone back in my bag, but I can't stop the grin tugging at my lips.
“Come on,” Alex says, clapping me on the shoulder, still smirking. “Let's get back out there. We've got a game to win.”
“Yeah,” I say, grabbing my stick and standing, my bad mood from losing completely gone now. “Let's go.”
As I skate back onto the ice for the second period, all I can think about is 10 p.m. and the girl who's going to be waiting for me.
Chapter 21
“You’re doing great,” Scotty says as he skates behind me.
I hate it.
Not the compliment, but that he always sounds so…hopeful. Even when he’s pretending to be happy. How do I know he’s pretending? Because the Crushers lost tonight. Badly. 4 – 1, and from what I could tell from the highlights playing on my phone while I waited in the parking lot, Scotty got checked into the boards hard in the third period.
He’s kind of limping, but covering it with that dimpled smile of his, and that fact frustrates me.
“Keep those knees slightly bent.”
I reset my position at the blue circle, my legs screaming in protest, but I do it. We’ve been skating for over an hour, and I still can’t get the backward crossover right.
I’m tired. I’m frustrated. My entire body feels like it’s made of lead.
