Page 38 of My Pucking Perfect Goalie

“Finn?” Sammy asks, swallowing, his eyes flicking to my lips for a moment, and it sets me on fire. “You—”

“Sammy?”

A bright voice sounds just to our left, and when I turn to look, the most princess-esque person I’ve ever seen is standing just beside our table, one hand braced on the edge, her smile bright and genuine.

Harper.

She’s dressed as Princess Peach—her blonde hair curled out to match—a tiny crown nestled on her head. Her cheeks are pink, with little blue earrings matching the blue jewel on her chest. She’s even wearing the white gloves.

The only thing that’s not true to the video game princess is her eyes. Rather than blue, Harper has these deep brown eyes. And they’re trained on Sammy.

“Oh, hey!” Sammy says, and I wince at the new tone in his voice—excited, nervous. The confidence, the easiness he had just ten minutes ago is gone. “I thought you were staying in with Josh this weekend?”

I look at him quickly when he drops a man’s name, but Harper doesn’t look phased. She just laughs, casually setting her hand on Sammy’s shoulder.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Then she jerks her thumb over her shoulder. “Some friends convinced me not to stay in tonight, though.”

When Harper pauses, looking to me, her eyes widen a bit, then flick back to Sammy.

“Are you Sara Bellum?” she asks.

“Yes,” I say, something inside me hating that I’m starting to like Harper more than I should. Clearly, she hasn’t recognized me. Aside from this costume being completely different from anything I’d ever wear, and my normal slick ponytail hiding under this wig, I’ve also done my makeup differently.

Sara Bellum never really shows her face, but when I was putting on the costume, I got the feeling that her style would be more simplistic than mine. Which means I’m wearing a darkred lipstick and smokey eyes. It’s no wonder Harper hasn’t recognized me as the uptight woman sometimes hanging around the arena.

“I’m—” I start, planning to introduce myself and elaborate that I’m Sammy’s coach, and nothing more, but a chorus of raucous cheers from the other side of room cuts me off.

“Sorry,” Harper says, and I notice her hand is still on Sammy’s shoulder. Her face is flushed, her eyes bright. “Those are my friends. They told me to come talk to you, but apparently they want me back.”

“It’s cool,” Sammy says, looking up at her. I grip my drink.

“Okay, cool,” she says, clearing her throat. “And, hey, let’s talk about that project, okay?”

Then, like something out of a rom-com, she reaches down, pulls a pen from her pocket, and scribbles a phone number on one of the paper napkins.

“This is my personal number,” she says, voice low, but I can still hear her. “Don’t give it out to the other guys.”

“I won’t,” Sammy promises, his voice sounding slightly choked.

“It was nice meeting you!” Harper waves once to me before she turns and flounces back over to the table.

From my brief glances of her, I knew that she was…a lot. But I didn’t realize just how sugary sweet—how intoxicatingly pink Harper could be. And the worst part is that I’m actually jealous of her.

Sammy is still looking after her, his eyes slightly dazed. If that’s the kind of woman he wants, I was never even a consideration.

Not that it matters.

“Finn,” Sammy says, when he finally looks back at me. “Did you see that?”

“Yeah,” I say, trying to keep my tone level. “I did. She’s clearly interested in you. So you should—”

“She has never acted like that before,” Sammy cuts me off, still sounding slightly out of it.

“Well, yeah,” I laugh, looking down at my can of sparkling water. “It’s because she saw you here with another woman. And she clearly didn’t recognize me.”

“What?”

“Maybe she didn’t even realize she was interested in you until she saw you with someone else.” I shrug. “When she looked over and thought you were on a date with another woman, she felt jealous. Realized she likes you. That’s my guess.”

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