She blinked, then laughed — that soft, surprised laugh I was starting to crave. “You’re insane. I’m not flying toMilwaukeeto watch you skate around on ice.”
“Why not?”
“Because that’s ridiculous,” she said, shaking her head. But the corner of her mouth betrayed her, tugging up. “Fine. What do I get if you lose?”
I tilted my head, and unashamedly, my eyes ran the length of her. “What do you want?”
My voice dropped an octave, suggestive, because I liked the way her breath caught when I teased like that. I liked how she pretended she was annoyed and unaffected by me, but her body told a different story.
And there it was, the reward I was seeking — the hitch in her breath, the parting of her lips, the slight widening of her eyes.
She stared at me for a second, color creeping into her cheeks, but then she smirked back. “Your smoothie punch card.” She pointed her demolished pen at my chest. “I know you’ve been hiding it from me.”
“That’swhat you want? Not dinner anywhere you choose, not me running laps around Conte Forum shouting your name — my smoothie card?”
“It’s worth at least fifty bucks in free smoothies,” she said primly, picking up her notebook. “Seems like a fair trade.”
I shook my head, still grinning as I leaned back on my palms again. “All right. You’ve got a deal.”
I extended my hand, and we shook on it.
I’d never been so motivated to win in my life.
• • •
On March 25, 2007, right around midnight, I decided I couldn’t hold back my feelings anymore.
I was on a bus full of my teammates, all of us buzzing after winning our regional game. I could still hear the roar of the crowd in Worcester even back at campus.
We’d buried Miami five–nothing. Frozen Four, baby. We were going.
And all I could think was that I had to tell Ariana.
The bus hissed as it pulled to a stop, brakes squealing against the quiet of campus. Midnight air bit at my lungs when I jumped down the steps, but I barely felt it.
I didn’t even think about it — just took off running across the quad, grinning like a lunatic with my hockey bag thumping against my side. By the time I reached her dorm, my chest was heaving, not from the sprint, but from the thought of her on the other side of that door.
I knocked loud and insistent, and thirty seconds later, the door cracked open. Ariana stood there in a big sweatshirt and shorts, hair piled in a messy knot, finger pressed to her lips. “Shhh! My roommate’s asleep.” But she was smiling, and it hit me like a second victory. “What are you doing here?”
“Did I wake you?” I whispered, trying to catch my breath.
She was still smiling. The sight of it lit my chest on fire. “No. I was waiting up to see—”
She didn’t get to finish before I had my hands in her hair and was kissing her.
The win against Miami, the way I’d thought about Ariana all the way to Worcester and the whole way back, the way she was all Ieverthought about anymore…
It all snapped something inside me, and my patience was eviscerated.
She gasped against my mouth, surprised for only a moment.
And then, she melted, her hands finding the front of my hoodie and fisting there like she’d been holding back just as much as I had.
I could have kissed her all night. I could have survived off the little whimper she made, the way her body leaned into mine, how she pressed onto her toes like she wanted more. I framed her face, thumbs at her jaw, fingers curling in her hair as she parted her lips and my tongue swept in.
That had both of us groaning, and suddenly I was hungry for more than just a kiss.
When I finally pulled back, I pressed my forehead to hers, still grinning like a fool. “Be my girlfriend,” I breathed, voice rough with hope. “Please, Ariana. I don’t want this to be just… whatever we’ve been. I don’t want there to be any question in your mind when it comes to how I feel about you.” I swallowed, pulling back so I could look at her. “I want it to be you and me.”
