FIVE
ALEX
The soundof the arena at game time always injects adrenaline straight into my veins. Tonight’s no different. I glide across fresh ice with Theo trailing me for our warm-up. We wave to the people in the crowd shouting our names, though I don’t offer more than friendly appreciation for the support to the girls pressing themselves against the glass.
I spot Lainey in the student section near our net. She’s the only person in the front row hovering by her seat with an uncertain expression while other students holler enthusiastically as the players run through pre-game drills. She has her arms folded tightly across her chest, though it doesn’t do much to hide the fact she’s wearing my number.
Damn. An unexpected pulse of heat tugs low in my gut. It’s crazy how good she looks in it. I joked about her wearing it, but I wasn’t prepared for how much I’d like seeing her rocking my number, wearingmyjersey. Reality is better than I imagined last night.
Fake girlfriend or not, when a girl wears a guy’s clothes it wakes up a primal side of us that’s really fucking into it.
Just like the night I caught her in nothing but an old Flyers hoodie in her kitchen. The memory merges with the fantasy thathit me last night, my mind supplying the idea of her in nothing by my jersey. A low groan leaves me as I refocus my thoughts before my cock hardens at the mental image.
We’ve been texting since I finished practice yesterday after I instated myself as her fake boyfriend. Or rather, I’ve been texting her and she’s occasionally responded with frazzled answers trying to find any excuse not to come tonight. It’s the longest conversation we’ve ever had. I feel like I know her better than I did yesterday.
I wasn’t sure if she’d show up for the game, but she’s here.
Her eyes meet mine and my grin widens. She looks away just as quickly. I’m not the only one noticing her. Some nearby fans seated in her row have spotted her in my alternate jersey and have struck up a conversation. I recognize the sorority sisters from the Pi Kappa Alpha parties.
“Give me a pass,” I call to Theo when she turns her attention back to me.
We line up for a shoot out drill and he directs the puck to me.
Once it flies into the net, I flash her a grin. My brows lift and I silently ask hersee that, babe? That shot was for you. Her brows furrow, as if she’s sayingbig fucking deal.
I laugh at how unimpressed she is, puckering my lips to blow her a playful kiss. She huffs and waves shyly.
“Who do you keep smiling at like that? You’d better focus on warming up.” Ice sprays my feet as Theo skates to a halt abruptly at my side. He stares at his sister in the audience. After a stretch of silence, he mutters, “Damn. Lainey never comes to watch. Hell must be frozen over. She’d better not bring us any bad luck.”
There’s no one more superstitious than hockey players. Any slight change can be a bad omen or the start of a winning streak. I feel good about her being in the crowd tonight.
“She’s here for me,” I say at the same time he recognizes that she’s wearing my alternate jersey.
My best friend’s head whips to me, glaring. “What the fuck is going on?”
Ah, shit. I probably should’ve thought that one through better. I was too busy getting Lainey to agree to my plan to consider that her terms meant I’d have to lie to Theo and be the guy dating his sister. There wasn’t a good time to tell him, but I should’ve so he didn’t find out on the ice minutes before the game.
I hold my gloved hands up in surrender. “I invited her when I ran into her yesterday before practice.”
He clenches his jaw and both of us fall into a routine we know well. Pre-game warm-ups have been our own ritual since we started playing together. It’s how we find our rhythm to stay in sync as wingers on the first line. He slams his stick down on the ice harder than usual.
I watch him for a moment as he flicks the puck back and forth with quick movements that broadcast his agitation before positioning myself where he sends the pass.Sendis putting it nicely. He rockets the damn puck at me. If I didn’t know him as well as I do after five years of training together, I would’ve missed it by a mile.
We both watch my slapshot zip into the net. He sends the next three passes even faster. Each time I connect, I grit my teeth. Coach will lose his shit on us if he looks over here. He can smell it a mile away when we’re fucking around instead of taking the game seriously. During practice is bad enough, but right before a game starts? Death wish.
“Dude,” I bite out after I make the last one, scooping up another puck with the edge of my stick to pass to him. “What the hell?”
Theo narrows his eyes. “You’ve never hung out with her before. You don’t know her. Why are you talking to my sister? Why’s she wearing your shit?”
All I picture is her expression as Mike and his dickhead friends closed in on her yesterday. I clench my teeth, my grip choking my stick. “Am I not allowed to talk to my girlfriend?”
Again, I should’ve thought my answer through before the words flew out of my mouth because my best friend’s eyes grow wide, then harden. Maybe Lainey has a point about my cognitive health.
“Girlfriend? You? What the fuck do you mean you’re dating my sister? She’s not some jersey chaser like the girls you normally fu—” Theo cuts off when one of the hotshot rookies skates between us, stealing the puck mid-pass. “Blake!”
Easton flashes him an unapologetic grin after he takes his shot on the net. “Aw, man. Too slow.”
It’s no secret he’s gunning for first line. He’s wasting no time, putting in as much work as he can to prove himself not only to Coach Lombard, but to the team that he’s got what it takes. As a forward, he’s fast as fuck and he’s got an edge when it comes to split second decision making. I recognize it because it’s similar to my play style. His skating inspires me to make plays that get him the puck to score.
