“Okay. Anxious. Nervous.”
“We got you,” Rix says from my other side.
“No one messes with our Tally.” Hemi squeezes my shoulder from behind me.
“It’s nice to feel insulated here,” I admit.
“It’s been tough on campus?” Hammer asks.
“Depends on the day and the headline.” My Tilton friends have been amazing, and Cammie and Fee both understand the challenge, but no one can pluck the things people have said to me out of my ears. I know it will stop, and that people’s attention span for drama is fleeting, but when the drama is me, it’s inescapable. “Sometimes I just feel buried underneath it all,” I admit. “It would be fine if it was just one thing, but it’s school and dance and the future and family and blah.” I exhale a heavy breath.
“It’s a lot. More than you need,” Rix says gently.
“You and Flip need some space to just be a couple without the constant attention,” Dred says softy. She understands what it’s like to be under the microscope. She and Connor were always a headline from their engagement announcement until their wedding.
“Not long and most of it will be behind us, though.” I try to infuse that statement with some positivity. This is equally stressful for Phillip’s with playoffs looming.
“You’re almost through it,” Rix agrees.
I want to be excited about what’s next, but the only thing I feel certain about is my relationship with Flip.
We settle in as the game gets underway and I’m happy to have my focus somewhere other than myself.
“Offense is playing smooth tonight,” Hemi says.
I nod in agreement. Last night Flip came over and reviewed plays on his tablet while I studied for my Marketing for Creatives exam. “Flip said Connor, Ash, and Quinn have been working with Kellan on their defensive strategy,” I say.
“The four of them were hanging out in our living room with a whiteboard yesterday,” Dred confirms. “Everly made sure they never ran out of refreshments.”
“Because Quinn is cute?” Hammer asks.
“She has her eye on Kellan.”
Everly is almost eighteen, and Kellan is twenty-seven. “Something about those older boys, huh?” I quip.
Hammer grins. “Seems that way.”
“I’m hopeful college next year will help distract her for a while,” Dred says.
“It didn’t really work for me, but maybe it’ll be more successful for Everly,” I mumble.
That earns me some chuckles.
We shift our attention to the game as Toronto gains control of the puck and carries it to Boston’s net. I follow Flip down the ice, as he and Dallas pass back and forth, looking for an opening, but Boston steals it back. His shoulders tense for a moment, but he rushes after Boston’s center, snatching it back and tipping it to Tristan. I grip my armrest, the pressure of the game just as heavy as everything else. If Flip doesn’t play well tonight, there will be more questions about the impact of our relationship on the team this season.
The net is open, so Tristan takes his shot, but it bounces off Boston’s goalie’s pads. “Fuck,” I mutter.
“It’s okay.” Hammer squeezes my hand.
I exhale a tense breath as Connor catches it on the rebound. He flips it into the air and taps it. The puck sails past the goalie’s glove and into the net.
“Hell yes!” I’m out of my seat, fist pumping as the arena follows in a wave, screaming and clapping. The relief that the Terror are on their game tonight is overwhelming. It means fewer whispers on campus tomorrow.
The goal puts Toronto up by two points. They maintain the lead but don’t increase it through the end of the second period and the third, giving us another hard-earned win.
The high of the victory spills over into the crowd, and the girls and I agree to wait until things die down before we leave the box. Connor’s face appears on the jumbotron. His brows are slanted, his expression severe as he answers questions about his goal and how he feels as the team approaches the playoffs. This has been his best season yet, and he credits his coaches, teammates, and the support of his family.
I center my full attention on Flip when he appears on the screen. He didn’t score a goal tonight, but he helped make both of them happen.
