Page 66 of Play the Game

Emory’s eye twitches when I smile deviously. His head tilts, throwing his sandy hair over his forehead. His good looks annoy me so much that I can’t help but play with fire. “Make me.”

I squint and try to tell him something with my eyes. Everyone has some misconception about goalies being stupid and a little bit crazy, but in my educated opinion, goalies are the complete opposite. They’re always on guard, observing the ice and knowing which direction the puck will go well before it even does. They know when to engage and when to sit back and watch, which is exactly why Emory catches on to my flirty tone right away.

His lip lifts into a dangerous grin that digs right into my chest. My heart beats harder, and Shutter stretches on top of me, probably sensing what I won’t admit.

“You temptin’ me?” Emory asks, voice full of mirth.

I shrug shyly, and my cotton jacket falls a little off my shoulder, showing off my bare skin. Emory glances at it briefly before moving back to my face.

“Sounds like a challenge,” someone calls from the locker room.

Emory grunts, which sort of sounds like a laugh.

“The real challenge is getting your grumpy goalie to soften a little for this sweet little kitty.” I kiss Shutter on the head. “Maybe after you win the game?” I say, playing my part a littletoowell.

A flash of uncertainty crosses Emory’s face, and I smile at him with a little slip of my breath. Kane’s face takes over the camera screen, and I quickly move my jacket back up to cover my skin. “You rootin’ us on, Wifey?”

“Wifey?” I hear the distaste in Emory’s voice and almost roll my eyes.

Stellar acting skills.

“She isn’t your wife,” Emory snarls, obviously trying to cover up his tracks.

Kane ignores my broody goalie. “You watching us?”

I nod. Of course I’m watching them. I watched them well before I ever met Emory. “I’m counting on you guys to win, but the Bears are tough. They’re predicted to win.” I become serious. “Their offensive line is rock solid, so make sure you watch out for number eleven.”

Kane cranes his neck and looks at Emory with confusion. “Where did you find her? I want one.”

Emory snatches the phone out of his hand, and his expression is completely unreadable. He blinks a few times before Coach Jacobs’ voice booms throughout the locker room. “Let’s go, Devils. Get the fuck on the ice.”

I snort at his choice of language.

I move the camera down so Emory can see Shutter on my chest. “Shutter says good luck.”

He scoffs and does a quick scan of the locker room before looking highly uncomfortable.

Is he nervous for the game?

Wait, why do I even care?

“I’ll call you after the game,” he says hesitantly.

“Okay…” My eyebrows crowd, and I know he notices my confusion.

“I…”

Why does he look like he’s in pain? And again, why do I care?

“I love you.”

My mouth opens. The thoughts that come with hearing those three little words send me into a frenzy. I’m confused when I feel the tinge of anger. That’s probably something a therapist should dive into, but that costs money, so I’ll put that little feeling in the back of my head and hide from it.

I snap out of it when Emory clears his throat. My skin is hot to the touch, but I force the proper response out. “I love you too.”

We stare at one another for a second too long before he hangs up.

I breathe heavily for a few seconds while holding the phone in the exact same spot, and that’s when the exhaustion hits me. I know I can’t force myself to stay awake tonight, because my body is protesting, but when my phone buzzes, I’m suddenly wide awake again.

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