Page 7 of My Athlete Neighbor

She could do this. She could watch one game without getting sucked back into this world.

The first period was brutal. The Chill couldn't connect passes, couldn't maintain possession, couldn't seem to do anything right. Kane's frustration was visible even from the stands. Allison's hand kept creeping to her pocket, fingers curling around the puck like a worry stone.

"They've been in a slump," Pauline explained during intermission. "Ten games without a win."

"Eleven," Sofia corrected. "Dmitri is very... how you say... grumpy?"

The second period started differently. The Chill's passes suddenly clicked. Their shots found nets. Kane scored on a beautiful breakaway that had the whole arena on their feet.

Allison's pocket felt warm.

By the third period, it was clear something had changed. The team played like they were possessed, culminating in Kane's hat trick goal with two minutes left. The arena erupted. Hats rained onto the ice.

"Best game all season!" Pauline squealed, hugging Allison. "You're our good luck charm."

After the final buzzer, Sofia's phone buzzed. "Dmitri says party at Kane’s place." She looked questioningly at Allison. "You’re coming, right?"

"What? No, I—" But the women were already gathering their things, chattering excitedly about the win.

She arrived back at her apartment building and the fourth floor was hopping. Kane’s door was wide open, but he wasn’t there. She wondered who had a key to his place. She stood awkwardly amidst the hustle and bustle and wondered if she should just go back to her own apartment. The team burst in minutes later, bringing noise and energy and the sharp clean scent of postgame showers. Kane was last, tie loosened, hair damp, looking unfairly gorgeous despite a bruise darkening his jaw.

Their eyes met across the room. The intensity in his gaze made her breath catch.

She retreated to the kitchen to help bring out the victory pizza boxes that were stacked up.

"What’s your favorite topping?"

She turned. Kane pushed into the kitchen, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up. His eyes were bright with victory and something else that made her pulse race.

"Pep-pepperoni," she managed.

He moved closer. "Thank you for coming. I’m really glad you saw us win.”

"It was a lot of fun,” she surprised herself by saying.

“Maybe, you can make a habit of it.”

She wasn’t sure how to answer him, especially when he moved closer to her. She found herself staring at his mouth, wondering what it would be like to kiss him.

Kane crowded her against the counter. One hand came up to cup her cheek. "Allison..."

The first brush of his lips was gentle, questioning. Then she made a small sound in her throat, and the kiss turned hungry. His other hand tangled in her hair as she gripped his shirt.

He tasted like victory and possibility and danger.

"Kane," Dmitri's voice echoed from the community room. "Where did you go? Media wants quotes."

They broke apart, breathing hard. Kane rested his forehead against hers for a moment.

"To be continued?" he murmured.

"Yeah." Allison smoothed her shirt, cheeks burning. "Go. Handle the press."

He squeezed her hand before leaving, and she took a moment to collect herself before following. His living room was packed with players, staff, and what looked like local sports reporters. Allison shrugged off her coat in the sudden warmth, not noticinguntil too late that her grandfather's puck had slipped from the pocket.

The puck hit the floor with a distinctive thunk and rolled, somehow finding its way directly to Oliver's feet. He picked it up automatically, then froze, eyes widening as he recognized the distinctive mark.

"Holy shit!” His voice carried in the suddenly quiet room. “Is this from Squaw Valley? The 1960 Olympics?"

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