I skate over to her. “Nice jersey,” I say.
Her smile turns teasing. “You like it?”
“Hell yeah.”
I motion for her to turn around. When she does, she swipes her hair over her shoulder so I can see my name and my number on her back.
St. George. Seventy-four.
My girlfriend is wearing my jersey with my name and my number.
I ignore that silent reminder in my head telling me that she’s not really my girlfriend. We’re still fake dating. We’re just two friends who are fooling around.
I don’t fucking care, though. This moment, looking at Poppy wearing my name and my number on her body, feels more real than anything I’ve ever felt in my life.
My chest squeezes, and that happiness from scoring that goal intensifies. It’s overwhelming, but in a good way.
A pretty pink blush paints her cheeks. “That was an amazing goal you scored,” she says.
“I did it for you.”
Her full cheeks flush. “You didn’t even notice me until a minute ago.”
“Every goal I score is always for you, wild girl.”
I don’t miss the way those gorgeous hazel eyes light up. I wink at her and skate off to rejoin my team, a bubbly feeling in my chest seeing her reaction. At how happy she looked. At how I’ve never seen her face brighten like that before.
I’m the one who does that. I’m the one who makes her happy.
We manage to hold on to our lead against Boston through the rest of the period. When we walk off the ice, I flash another smile at Poppy. That dazzled, dazed smile is still on her face.
In the locker room during intermission, Coach gives us a few motivating words. When we hit the ice again for the final period, I’m fired up. It’s different from the energy I felt earlier in the game. That was more frantic and desperate. All I could think about was playing my best so that I could hopefully get the attention of the scouts and they’d be impressed by me.
But now I feel lighter as I play. Almost like the pressure is off. All because Poppy is wearing my jersey, cheering me on.
That feeling stays with me the rest of the game. Halfway through the third-period, I manage an assist. A few minutes after that, I score another goal.
As my teammates surround me and the home crowd goes wild, I look over at Poppy. I wink at her and grin. “For you,” I mouth.
She gives me another smile that makes my heart feel like it’s bouncing around in my chest.
I’m crazy about this girl.
“Hey, St. George. Nice work out there tonight,” Coach Sawyer says to me in the locker room after the game.
I pause from shedding all my sweaty gear and sit up. “Thanks, Coach.”
“I think you really impressed the scouts.”
I try and fail to hold in a smile. Hope zooms through me. I hope he’s right.
I clear my throat. “You think so?” I try not to sound too giddy. As excited as I am, I want to come off measured and mature.
He nods. “A scout from the Bashers told me he’d be back to watch our next home game. That’s a promising sign.”
That hopeful feeling amps up. Holy shit, it would be my dream to get drafted by the Bashers. That’s the team my big brother Ryker plays for. That’s the team I grew up cheering for since I was a little kid. I’ve been to so many Bashers games over the years. I’d lose my mind if I could play for them some day.
I grin up at Coach. “That’s awesome. I’ll be sure to play hard that game too.”
