“It’s been great so far. She’s usually at school, I’m at practice. But we had enough timme to spend one night talking about everything. Get this, we both have the same dream to travel to the Grand Canyon.”
Marcus and I are walking down the arena hallway to the locker room before that night’s game.
“So?” Marcus asks. “What’s the problem?”
“She’s driving me crazy.”
“If it’s driving you crazy, ask her to leave.”
“No,” I say a little too forcefully. “I mean, she’s driving me crazy in a good way. The way she laughs. And she smells amazing”
“Then tell her that.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
I pause. “What if she doesn’t like me?”
“Dude, she wouldn’t be staying with you if she didn’t like you.”
“I told you, her dorm building flooded.”
Marcus watches me with raised eyebrows. “Seriously? You don’t think she could afford the fancy hotel with all that contract money?”
“Shh.” I look around.
“Just tell her how you feel. It’s a hell of a lot better than moping around like this.”
I shake my head. “I can’t do that.”
“Well, get your damn head in order because we have an important game tonight. If we win, we could gain a four-point swing. Our chances of going to the playoffs will be a lot easier.”
“I know.” I shake my head, trying to shake the thoughts of Riley away.
Six guys from the Cleveland Crushers appear down the hallway.
“If we lose tonight, they qualify for the playoffs,” I say.
From across the hall, I see a familiar face. Harrison Cooper is in his favorite blue suit as he walks with the rest of the team toward the visiting team’s locker room.
“Hey, isn’t this the first time you’re playing against the Crushers since you got kicked off the team?” Marcus asks.
“Yeah,” I mumble.
“Will you be okay?”
“Of course.” I look at Marcus. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You’ve got a bunch of relationship drama right now, dude.”
I force out a laugh. “Let me fix some of it right now.”
With Riley’s words on my mind, I walk over to Coop.
“Hey,” I say, grabbing his attention. Coop stares at me with a hardened face. His stern green eyes bring back memories of all the fights we had as teenagers, fights that were always solved with a cup of hot cocoa (a special Cooper family recipe). I stick out my hand, expecting a gentlemanly handshake. “I just want to say good luck tonight.”
Coop looks down at my hand and pulls away. I stand in shock for a moment before turning back to Marcus.
“Still mad, I guess,” he says.
“Yeah,” I say absently as I watch Coop pull away with the rest of the team. This would need more than a cup of special hot cocoa.
“Don’t feel too bad.” Marcus pats me on the back and pulls me into our locker room. “Get back at him on the ice. No fighting though.”
I smirk. “I can do that.”
An hour later, we’re standing at center ice facing Coop as we prepare to battle for the puck.
Coop and I facing off against each other has been huge news all week. The whole hockey world is watching this game tonight. I can practically hear everyone in the stadium holding their breath.
The referee drops the puck and without hesitation I snatch it away from Coop, passing it to Edgar on my right. We skate around the others and set up formation in the opposing end. Edgar passes it to me, I pass it back to him. The crowd gets loud. Edgar shoots! He misses. The goalie passes the puck to Coop who skates it up the ice, evading every player along the way. I push myself to keep up with him but he’s always been the faster skater. He’s in the zone. He winds up to take a shot. The puck is alone on the ice for a split second. Reaching my stick out, I pull it away from him.
Yes!
The crowd cheers louder.
Just as I’m about to skate to the other end, Coop steals the puck back from me and, in one sweeping motion, he scores. The other team is celebrating before I even get a chance to process what just happened.
“What the—”
Marcus pats me on the back. “Tough break, bud. He’s just too fast.”
“I guess so,” I mumble to myself. Skating back to the bench, I sit on the end closest to the other team.
Coop fist-bumps everyone on his bench before hopping over the boards and sitting a few feet away from me.
“Hey,” I shout over the boards, grabbing his attention.
He looks over at me.
“Good goal. You’ve still got those fast hands.”
Hesitantly, he smiles. “Thanks.”
I shift my attention back onto the ice. When the whistle blows to pause the play, I look up into the stands where the family and friends sit. I see Riley’s blond head sitting on the end of the row. Even from the ice, I can tell she’s touching her necklace, her good luck charm.
“Don’t worry, buddy. We’ve got this,” Marcus says. He squeezes my shoulder.
“I’m not worried,” I say as I smile. My eyes are still on Riley. “I’m not worried at all.”
