Hudson
You guys are there, too? WTF
I wait a beat before I respond as the chat goes off with Hudson cursing over being the last one to get in. Jordan doesn’t answer and my heart sinks. Maybe he hasn’t seen it yet. Maybe…
Maybe he didn’t actually notice the sign. Of course not, and now I probably just look like an asshole. Fuck.
I sigh, tapping out my response.
Sure. I’ll leave a couple at will call if anyone wants to come see me tomorrow.
Jordan sends a thumbs up.
What the fuck doesthatmean? Is he just acknowledging he saw it? Does this mean he’s coming to the game? Or is he just late responding to my photo or….
The guys all send their acknowledgments and thumbs up, and for the first time in forever, I feel excited for a game. Because maybe… maybe he’ll be there, even if it is with other people. I hope he is.
I left tickets for seats right at the glass so I can see who shows up. So I could see ifheshows up. I try to shake the nerves off; I can’t afford to be nervous on the ice. I have to play the game the same way I always do. To win.
I see him on my first skate by and can’t help but smile.
He fucking came. So did the others, but…
He came.
That vicious voice tries to tell me he didn’t come for me. That he’s only here for Austen’s opening, and he’sjust hanging out with a bunch of friends he hasn’t seen in awhile.
But I can’t deny seeing him sitting behind the glass wearing a Rioters jersey makes me feel more confident than ever.
I play my ass off. I’m ruthless. Goal after goal, we crush the other team, and I pull a badass trick shot for the win. I’m showing off, but I can’t help it. I text the group chat as soon as I get to the locker room, letting them know to wait for me at the trendy cafe thing next door. My heart is in my throat as I race to the locker room to shower and dress myself as fast as humanly possible. I ask one of my teammates to take my bag for me, since I’m not going home and don’t have my car. He’s staying for a few days, too, and told me I can grab it from him tomorrow.
I take one look at myself in the mirror. Flannel’s never been my aesthetic, but it doesn’t look bad on me. It goes well with my black fitted tee, dark jeans, and my silver choke chain which I also found in my duffel, squeezed beneath the sides—which I wear like a regular necklace now—and my white Nikes pull the look together nicely. I run a hand through my hair, spritz myself with some cologne, and race to the cafe.
I see them all standing outside and Hudson is the first person to run up and hug me.
“Sorry I missed your game,” he says. I hear the exhaustion in his voice. “I just got here. Trey said we were hanging out.”
I hug him back and Trey pulls me in next. “Fuck yeah. Just like old times,” he says.
Andre and Paul bro hug me and smack my back, and my gaze finds Jordan’s. He makes no effort to hide the way he’s checking me out. His eyes slowly trail up my body until his fiery amber gaze meets mine.
“Nice shirt,” he says cooly as he pulls me into a hug like the rest of the guys did. I am powerless to fight the way my eyes close, or the way I breathe him in.
His crisp vetiver and alpine scent makes me want to melt into a fucking puddle on the sidewalk. His body is warm and solid and I can’t help but relax for the miniscule moment he touches me.
“Thanks,” I say cockily. “It’s kinda my lucky shirt. I bring it to every game.” I grin.
He smirks, shaking his head.
“You guys hungry? I’m fucking starving,” Hudson whines and we all laugh.
Jordan opens the door for me and the guys, and my heart does a stupid little flip. The cafe itself is like a giant cafeteria with a shit ton of kiosks that have lots of different things to choose from. Hudson goes for the chicken and waffles while Trey goes straight for the sushi. Andre and Paul wait in line for the burger kiosk. I jumpin line for tacos and the air around me thins the moment I feel him come up behind me in line.
“I thought you hated tacos,” I say casually, sliding my hand in my pocket.
“They aren’t so bad,” he says smoothly.
I let out a soft chuckle.
