Oh.
This is about me.
About us.
Dex’s voice goes slightly panicked. “OKAY. THIS JUST TOOK A TURN.”
Bryce yells, “WE HAVE LOST CONTROL OF THE EVENT.”
Mason mutters, “I’D LIKE IT NOTED THIS WAS NOT MY IDEA.”
Eli, calm as ever says, “There is no scenario where this ends quietly.”
I skate toward the bench first, heart pounding, the magnitude of the moment crashing in all at once. My helmet is already off, sweat cooling against my skin, thoughts racing faster than my skates ever could. Part of me wants to sit down. Hide. Let this pass. The other part knows I won’t be able to live with myself if I do.
Coach steps beside me.
“You don’t get many moments where the whole building’s listening,” he says quietly.
Then he walks away.
The chant grows louder.
I’m still angry.
Still hurt.
Still don’t have answers.
But I’m done hiding.
I push toward section 114, blades cutting hard, and slide my stick into the hands of a wide-eyed kid pressed against the glass like I’m passing off the last piece of myself before I jump.
Then I hop the boards.
The crowd explodes.
I stop in front of her.
Up close, her eyes are wide, breath caught, hands shaking around that stupid T-shirt.
“I’m not pretending you don’t matter,” I say.
The crowd is still chanting, the word crashing over us in waves.
“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”
She swallows, eyes flicking to the jumbotron and back to me, like she can’t quite believe this is real.
“Colby…” she starts, breathless.
I don’t let her finish.
I cup her face, feel her hands clutch at my jersey, and then I kiss her hard with no hesitation, no careful distance. It’s intense and unfiltered, the kind of kiss that carries weeks of anger and want and everything we never said.
She melts into it with a soft sound that goes straight through me, and when she kisses me back, it’s just as fierce.
The chant turns into a roar.
