Page 150 of Snap Shot

My heart is a disobedient asshole. It nearly has a myocardial infarction every time Landon's eyes find mine during warmups at the game against Vancouver. Bea chats up the drunk bachelor party next to us and doesn't seem to notice. At least not until the game starts.

Radek goes after the puck, tearing from the Bears' defenders and scoring within the first seven seconds with the fastest snap shot I've ever witnessed. The crowd bursts with surprise. He glides away on one knee, pumping a fist in celly. The team surrounds Landon in a hug, laughing and tapping on his helmet with their gloves. He skates off after, skidding to a stop before looking over his shoulder and mouthingonein my direction.

“Huh.” Bea scoffs. “Why'd he say that while looking at you?”

“What?” I blink, frozen in my own stupidity.

“He said 'one' while staring right at you.”

“That?” A nervous chuckle putters out. “We made a bet. I made fun of him because he couldn't score last game.”

“And?”

“And?”

“What'd you bet?”

There's no time to answer. My eyes follow him across the ice making another breakaway, every stride a crossover, driving him faster and faster toward Vancouver's goalie. Bracovich pulls forward, bracing himself in the crease, but Landon fakes him out and knocks the puck in, right over the unprepared tendy's left leg. The team roars along with the fans, coming in for round two of congratulatory cheers.Two, he mouths, holding two fingers up and smiling so wide, both dimples peek between his helmet straps.

Four minutes later, Olsen hip-checks the opposite center, who loses possession and Landon takes it. The Bears catch up, blocking any direct shots, but Radek circles behind the net and drops the puck in, lacrosse-style.

The foghorn blares over the announcer's excited tone. “And he scores! Bracovich took a snooze and Radek woke him right up!”

Everyone in the place is on their feet, beer spilling as they jump and scream. Landon goes horizontal on the ice and does three push-ups across his stick. His head pops up to mouththree. By the time his teammates circle him, he's all laughs.

My tongue pokes into my cheek. I maniacally laugh inside my head.

Three orgasms are a charm.

The internal gloating is cut short by the end-of-period buzzer. Bea takes a bathroom break. I tell her to go on, armed with the excuse of not wanting our seats to be stolen.

Me:Not bad.

Gym Guy:I'm not done yet.

Gym Guy:And why aren't you wearing my jersey?

I peer down at the black Regents hoodie engulfing my torso.

Me:Didn't want to distract you.

Gym Guy:You realize there are consequences for your actions, right?

Me:What kind of consequences?

Gym Guy:Smartass, I'm gonna make five more goals tonight.

A singlehabursts forth, gaining the attention of the people around me. I clear my throat and apologize, bringing a can of beer to my suddenly-dry mouth. When the team returns to the ice, Landon throws me a challenging look through his visor. Donovan and Szeczin back off, passing to him when they can and otherwise staying out of his way. Every point scored is taunted back to me.

Four.

Five.

Six.

And that's before the second period ends. Butterflies nest in my gut.

“This is such a great game!” Bea whoops through cupped hands. “Look at the man go! What on earth did you bet—”

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