I think back to high school, how I’d sometimes go with Anna to watch him play. Whenever she’d ask me to go, I’d almost always go with her. I had such a huge crush on Nick as a teenager that I used it as an opportunity to low-key ogle him…as creepy as that sounds.
But I was an awkward teen who didn’t know how else to deal with my crush on a guy totally out of my league.
Until he orchestrated that prom-posal prank. I stopped going to his games in high school after that.
The sting of his rejection lands at the center of my chest, like it always does when I think about it.
If I’m being honest, I don’t want to be here, cheering him on as he plays. But he’s right. We’re faking dating, and if I want our relationship to be believable to the people around us, I need to show up at his games every once in a while.
I shove aside those lingering hurt feelings and pay attention to the game.
“Nick’s on fire tonight.” Anna nods at the ice.
I watch as he flies across the ice. He is the fastest guy on Hollis U’s team. And faster than any of the California State players, too.
“He really is,” I say.
Even I can’t deny how impressive Nick is on the ice. Even with all the pads and equipment he’s wearing, he moves like lightning. He handles his stick like it’s an extension of his body.
He’s strong and fast. Even when someone checks him, he moves like it barely fazed him, righting himself and racing away, his eyes always on the puck.
He runs after one of the California State players who has the puck and is over on our side of the ice. Anna and I are seated a few rows back, so we have a clear view. I watch as Nick skates over and scuffles with the California State player for control of the puck.
Another Bears player skates over and shoves Nick. My eyes go wide at the sound of his shoulder landing against the boards, but he barely frowns. He glances up, his gaze landing on me.
He smiles, winks, and blows me a kiss before turning his attention back to getting the puck from California State players.
I try to ignore the small dip that hits my tummy, but it’s almost impossible. Nick is always ridiculously smooth, even in the middle of an intense hockey game.
A few people sitting around us turn to look at me.
A guy behind us chuckles. “Looks like St. Nick is showing off for his girl.” A woman sitting nearby goes, “Aww!”
My face heats as I try to fight a smile. I notice Anna giving me an amused look.
“You’re blushing pretty hard there for a fake girlfriend,” she says, her voice soft so only I can hear her.
In the scuffle against the boards, the puck goes flying, but Nick is all over it.
He maneuvers around his opponent and snatches the puck before anyone can get to it. Then he takes off and heads toward the Bears net.
A couple of Bears defensemen trail him, but he’s too fast. He zeroes in on the goalie and takes a shot. The goalie is a half-second too late with his glove. The puck sails past and sinks into the back of the net.
The home crowd is on their feet cheering. I stay sitting and clap while watching Nick’s teammates crowd around him and celebrate his goal.
When they break apart, Nick looks over at me. He raises an eyebrow, his lips slanted up in an amused half-smirk.
“Stand up,” he mouths.
I shake my head, a weird, excited feeling bubbling up inside of me.
“Naughty girl,” he mouths before he skates off to center ice for face off.
That excited feeling lingers. I like giving him a hard time. And judging from his reaction, he likes it too.
A few minutes later, Anna’s parents sit down next to us.
Anna’s mom, Shannon, hugs me before sitting down next to Anna. Her dad, Scott, says hi and pulls out his phone to record the game.
