Page 55 of Hit Me With Your Best Shot

The energy in the arena is electric, everyone in scarves and jerseys, shouting encouragement before the game has even begun.

When I reach my row, I stop in my tracks. Instead of there being an empty seat next to me, sitting there with an air of practiced coolness is Nova. Gio’s sister.

Oh.

My.

God.

She’s slouched in the seat, one ankle crossed over her knee, scrolling through her phone like she’s got better places to be, but decided to grace the rink with her presence anyway. Her platinum-blonde hair is tucked beneath a knit beanie, and her leather jacket stands out starkly against the sea of team colors.

She doesn’t glance up as I awkwardly shuffle closer, gripping my beer like a shield.

I shuffle closer.

Nova glances up.

Raises her gaze.

The moment her eyes land on me, they light up like the alarm above the goalie net.

“Austin!” she exclaims, standing halfway like she’s about to pull me into some kind of enthusiastic hug but thinks better of it at the last second. “Finally! I thought you’d never show up!”

She looks so happy to see me!

“Oh lord,” she continues as I get closer, reaching to flick the sign in my hand. “Is that the sign from last week?” She grabs the bright yellow cardboard and flips it over, inspecting it with a deep frown. “I thought the two of you were getting along!”

“We are!” I laugh, settling into my seat and unwinding the striped scarf around my neck. My hair sticks up in a few directions, and I smooth it with one hand. “He wanted me to bring it again—for good luck.”

Nova’s face stays blank for a long beat, her mouth slightly parted like she’s buffering and can’t quite process what I just said. Then, out of nowhere, she bursts into full-blown laughter—the kind that has her doubling over with shaking shoulders.

“Good luck?” she gasps between giggles.

“Yes! I’m supposed to heckle him too. It’s motivational?” I shrug, as if questioning the logic of this whole situation. But if there’s one thing I understand, it’s superstitions and routine and trying to keep my team on a winning streak because as a fan, I have my own pre-game ritual so my team wins.

“Why is he like this?” his sister says. “Why can’t he, oh,I don’t know, wear the same socks like a normal weirdo athlete? No, no—he’d rather be publicly roasted.”

Whatever works.

“Do you want to hold the sign instead?” I deadpan, lifting the sign toward her like it’s the Olympic torch. “That totally counts, right?”

Her laughter cranks up a notch as she grabs the sign and holds it high, waving it around, glitter sparkling under the bright lights.

The crowd eats it up, erupting in cheers and whistles.

“Yes!” she whoops. “I’m absolutely taking credit for this moment.”

“You weren’t even here last week!” I shout over the commotion, laughing despite myself as I reach for the sign. “You can’t just swoop in and steal your brother's humiliation from me!”

“Correction.” Nova’s green eyes sparkle mischievously. “It’snot humiliating ifI’mdoing it. It’s entertainment. You plus me equals the dynamic duo of public embarrassment.”

“He was begging for me to bring this.” I snort, lunging for the sign again. “Don’t be a glory hound.”

“Too late,” Nova quips, raising the sign even higher and twirling it like she’s in a parade. “The crowd loves me.”

Before I can retort, my attention shifts.

Out on the ice, a familiar, hulking figure skates toward us. Big, brawny, and unmistakably looking straight in my direction.

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