Page 47 of Best Man on Campus

“Shut the fuck up. That’s amazing. You’re smarter than you thought, Dr. Hockey.”

“It wasn’t me, it was you and your song that made the difference. I owe you and I can’t wait to repay my debt.”

“I’ll think of something.”

“How about a ticket for tonight’s game?” My chest tightens while I wait a couple of beats for her response.

“You’re supposed to reward me, not punish me.”

I laugh, fairly certain that she’s joking.

“Fine. I’ll go to the game, but I need two tickets so I can bring Dooley with me. Nothing against your mother, but I don’t want to sit with her and worry about everything that comes out of my mouth.”

“You got it.” I’ll have to scramble and beg for the tickets, but I’ll do it, thrilled that her sassy defiant energy is back

“I have class now, hockey boy.” She pauses and I’m ready for her to end the call without another word, but she adds, “Glad you did good on your test.”

Those words sustain me as I get to the arena for our team dinner, hope flaming because she shared her positive feelings without any snark. During dinner, I wrangle a ticket deal. The one ticket I have for a trade is next to my mom, but it’s a prime seat a couple of rows behind our bench, so I manage a trade. The tickets I get will have Jazzy sitting up higher and I’ll never find her in the crowd, but at least she’ll be there for our final game in the Hockey East Championship.

* * *

It’s a shame that it’s one of those games that goes by in a blur, because I meant to savor it. At the end, I find myself standing at center ice with the Hockey East Championship trophy hoisted in the air above my head alongside Kace and Stone and the rest of the team. SPU’s official photographer is taking pictures along with a swarm of media and I have three interviews to do before I can hit the locker room, according to Coach. The media wants to talk to me because I scored a fucking hat trick, including the winning goal in OT.

My karma is out of the universe and I feel like if I took a slap shot at the moon right now, I’d hit it. We file off the ice, grinning and giddy, drunk before we have our first drink, and I head for my interview with the familiar sports reporter from New Hampshire first.

Once again, I survey the stands and I don’t see her.

“First of all, congratulations, Ben, on your team’s win and your outstanding game,” the reporter says, holding the microphone out for my reaction. I manage a coherent answer and barely concentrate on the interview as I continue to look for Jazzy. Glancing at the tunnel to the dressing room, I see her standing there. My smile is automatic, but she gives me a disinterested look and raises her middle finger at me.

“Good luck in the Frozen Four tournament. That’s all you have left to conquer before you take the NHL by storm,” the reporter finishes and I fake a smile, nodding, not worried about setting him straight about my likelihood of playing in the NHL.

Moving to the next interview, Coach takes me aside and tells me there are several NHL scouts here.

“No kidding. Of course they are, but—”

“Just keep your options open,” he says. “Don’t make any rash announcements on live television.”

I nod and manage to get through the gauntlet of press, convincing myself that Jazzy was being Jazzy, that her dismissal didn’t mean anything. In the locker room, I’m showered, literally, with praise and everything from beer to champagne and even water bottles squirted in my face. The guys lift me, bringing my focus to the here and now, the beauty of the moment.

Half the team’s already gone by the time I get around to dressing, but Kace and Stone and even Voz wait for me.

“The team’s getting the crowd at Wildbeast Pizza good and riled for you. Maybe you should bring another change of clothes for after you get showered again,” Kace says.

“I’ll take my chances. Maybe I’ll go in the back door.” Then I can find Jazzy before I get caught up in the celebrations and the crowd.

“Sure. Want me to call someone and find out if she’s there?”

“Who? Jazzy?” Voz says. Stone nods. His arms are folded. He doesn’t like that I’m seeing her and I get it. He has my best interests at heart, so I don’t hold it against him.

“Yeah, Voz. Any problem with that?”

“Your funeral,” he says. I snort a laugh, because he’s not wrong in his assessment. I’m taking a chance with her. The thing is, she’s worth it. So worth it.

“But do you blame me?” I ask Voz, and he stares me down for a few beats then shrugs.

“No. Go for it.” He hits me in the arm with no heat.

I nod and we leave.