Page 26 of Hit Me With Your Best Shot

But just like that,the ice clears and players start filing back onto the ice. The fans roar, the energy climbing higher and higher, and for a split second, I let myself get swept up in it. Cheer along with them.

Houston is up by one, and the second period promises to be as chaotic as the first.

And then he skates out.

Moves with purpose, every motion fluid and precise, and then—he looks directly at me. Not toward the crowd.

Not at our section.

Atme.

Gio Montagalo is not just playing hockey tonight.

He’s playingme.

6

Austin: You kissed the glass.

Gio: You made the sign! We had a deal.

Austin: For HIM not for you!

Gio: Okay that makes no sense—because I am him. Ha ha.

Austin: This isn’t funny. I’m horrified. The entire place was staring at me like I was part of the halftime show.

Gio: You’re welcome! Don’t think I didn’t see you smiling.

Austin: Why were you watching me, you had a GAME TO PLAY!

Gio: Obviously you’re good luck. I didn’t play like total shit this time. Coach thanks you.

Austin: You’re not funny.

Gio: You’re overthinking this. Besides, you’re textingme, so I can’t be that bad.

Austin: I’m texting you because I need answers.

Gio: Answers about what?

Austin: YOU LIED TO ME ABOUT WHO YOU WERE!

Gio: Not technically. I told you my name and you have my phone number—not many people can say that.

Austin: Not the point.

Gio: Actually that IS the point.

Austin: The point is, you conveniently left out the part where I’d been insulting you to your face.

Gio: Didn’t think it was relevant.

Austin: Not relevant? Are you kidding me right now????

Gio: What—you wouldn’t have insulted me if you knew?

Austin: Of course not! I’m not an asshole!

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