Page 79 of Fall Wherever They May

“I didn’t.” Her head swivels my way. “I don’t.”

“Uh-huh. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.” I giggle and toss her a wink.

Carter skates over to the glass and taps on it, attracting River’s attention. “Did you like the show, Kitten? That was all for you.” His voice is muffled through the plexi, but he speaks loud enough so we can understand him. He places his fist over his heart. “I’m playing this game for you, baby. See you at home.”

He blows her a kiss.

She rolls her eyes.

He points at her. “Keep practicing that for later,” he calls out.

River sands up and cups her hand around her mouth, “In your dreams, Fight Club,” she yells.

“Uh. Want to tell me what that’s all about? What’s going on between you two?” I look from her back to Carter as he skates off.

“Absolutely nothing.”

“Mmhmm. That didn’t look like nothing.”

Mom and Tucker catch my periphery when they walk down the last two steps and make their way to their seats. I usually sit in the owner's suite, but Tucker wanted to be closer to the action tonight. Mom and Tucker plop down beside me,each with a popcorn and drink in hand. “Oh good, we didn’t miss anything,” Mom says.

River and I look at each other; both of us bark out a laugh. Mom raises a brow. I lean over, keeping my voice low so Tucker doesn’t hear me. “Carter was stretching and doing hip thrusts for River. I think they have a thing.”

“We DO NOT have a thing. Like, at all. It was just entertaining.” She throws her hands up in defense.

“See you at home,Kitten,” I mock in my most masculine voice. “I’m playing this game for you, baby.”

“We bumped into each other on the elevator. Thanks for the warning, by the way.” She changes the subject, rolling her eyes.

“Ooh, practicing already,” I tease.

“Did you know?” She leans over me and steals a handful of popcorn from Mom.

“Know what? That you have the hots for Carter, but you won’t admit it? Yep, hit my radar.”

“No, you idiot.” She laughs. “That he lives in my building,” she says, tossing a few pieces of popcorn in her mouth.

My eyes widen. “I’m sorry. What?”

“You heard me,” she says with a mouthful, covering her mouth with her hand. Her eyes squint at me in accusation. If I knew Carter lived in her building, I would have told her. Though, I wish I could’ve seen her expression when she found out.

“Wow! Okay. I did not see that coming. Um. No. I didn’t know that.” I stumble over my words. “Why wasn’t that the first thing out of your mouth today? Actually, why didn’t you immediately call me? When did this happen?”

“I found out this morning.”

I want to continue this conversation, but seats begin to fill around us. The players have finished their warmups and are back in the locker room until time for introductions. Theatmosphere is a mixture of excitement and tension—our section overflows with spectators wearing black and red jerseys.

Die-hard fans stand to the left of us with beers in hand. All five of their faces are painted black and red. Whoops and cheers climb to a deafening decibel as the lights dim and rock music blares from the speakers surrounding the arena. Suddenly, the music stops, and the jumbotron begins to play a new hype video for The New York Blaze.

At first the video is distorted: white noise scratches and a static screen scrambles in and out with a silhouetted man. Flames ignite in the background as the person finally comes into focus. Standing with his arms crossed against his chest is a tall, intimidating man wearing an old-style white goalie mask with a thin red strip on each cheek. A black hoodie is pulled up over his head, concealing his hair. He tilts his head this way and that, tauntingly.

“You forgot your manners the last time we met. I’m here for retribution, and rest assured, you will be punished.” The distorted voice says menacingly as the crowd screams. The video flips from the masked man to highlight reels before switching back to the masked man. I know it’s one of my players, but with the voice changer, I can’t tell which one—at least, not until the real voice for the masked man says, “Now, it’s time to turn up the heat.”My heart stops, and my core throbs.

Realization dawns that the fans are not the only ones he’s trying to hype up, and our opponent is not the only one who he’s promising punishment to—it’s me. I swallow thickly.The crowd goes berserk, oblivious to his little polysemantic speech.

River bumps her shoulder against mine. “What did you think?”

My head shakes in disbelief at Cal’s very public display of promising retribution for the backtalk I did last night. I school my expression and turn to her, “Holy shit, River, I’m in shock.You did that?” I yell over the chanting and cheering, pointing at the Jumbotron.

---