Page 61 of The Fake Out Flex

I fake left with a quick shoulder drop. The defender lunges in that direction, expecting a straightforward play.

With a flick of the wrist, I cut back to the right. I guide the puck through the narrow space left by the off-balanced defender and execute another seamless deke.

I'm on fire.

The whole team is.

We're up 3-0.

Two of those goals are mine, but I'm not done yet. I can feel it. I've got a hat trick in me tonight.

The energy in the arena is electric, a mixture of anticipation and tension. I love playing for a home crowd. I love winning in front of a home crowd even more.

I enter the offensive zone. There's no one in my way.

The goalie is my final barrier. He shifts in the crease, tracking my every move.

I shift my weight, snapping the stick forward, and unleash a powerful shot.

The puck rockets toward the goal, aimed precisely at the tiny gap between the goalie's glove and the post.

The goalie reacts, but the puck hurtles past him into the net.

The score light flashes, and the crowd erupts in a frenzy.

There are eighteen thousand roaring fans in LA tonight, but there's only one I truly care about.

Evie.

She's here, like she is for all home games.

But there's something different about her being here tonight.

It's been three days since the wedding.

Three days since those pesky onlookers invaded our privacy on the beach.

Three days in which the story about my supposed new relationship has blown up.

Every few hours, a new hashtag starts trending on social media, or some new article pops up about how long we've 'really' been together.

That's largely due to one very dedicated fan—username: hockey4life1989—who has compiled a score count of every home game I've played and correlated that to Evie's presence at home games to determine that my offensive output—goals and assists—is notably better when she's in the arena.

The home-ice advantage has become known as #TheEvieEffect.

Fans are sharing theories and speculating about my personal life more than ever. The rumor is that we've been together all season, and that's the reason why I'm playing better. She's my good luck charm, apparently.

What on earth is Evie making of all of it?

I have absolutely no idea.

We haven't spoken.

I don't even have her number to call her because I haven't needed it before. Levi passed on her thanks for the flowers I sent, which was nice of her, but I'm itching to make sure she's really okay. She survived one viral scandal only to be plunged neck-deep into another.

I can't help but feel guilty, like this mess is all my fault.

That's why I invited her to dinner. We need to sit down and talk properly. Whatever it takes, I am determined to fix this.

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