Page 44 of Puck Right Off

Her face glows with excitement as she screams back. “I know.”

When Chelsea sees Alex’s jersey, she yanks on my arm so hard I nearly topple over. “Graves. Number 34. The goalie.” She jumps up and down, still hanging onto me, screaming his name. He looks up at her and pumps his fist in the air before he points at her. Chelsea mimics she’s going to faint, and I burst into laughter.

“Get up, Juliet. You might miss Romeo stretching and doing splits again if you pass out.”

She looks horrified. “Dear, God, no. I can’t miss that.”

I giggle, my gaze roaming over the players. When I see Tristan, I instinctively grab Chelsea’s arm. “I should be so mad athim. But my heart is racing just seeing Harrington and the number 33 on the back of his jersey.”

Chelsea laughs. “You want to be mad at him so the two of you can have smoking hot makeup sex. Don’t lie.”

I blush furiously, images rolling through my head. “Thanks for that visual,” I scream in her ear over the roar of the rowdy college fans and parents in the arena.

“Welcome.” She winks at me, her eyes moving back to Alex. I turn to the ice right as Tristan skates by, his piercing green eyes locking on me. He gives me a wink that causes butterflies to swarm inside my stomach, frantically fluttering their wings.

“Wow. I just got fucking pregnant from the way he looked at you. And that wink… Girl. Holy hot damn!” Chelsea dramatically slaps the back of her hand across her forehead. “If a man looked at me like that, I’d marry him.”

I laugh, but nervous apprehension rolls through me. My gaze moves to my stepfather, then to Josh, bracing for their accusing eyes to burn into me, telling me they know the secret I’ve been harboring. But neither are paying me the slightest attention.

Blowing out a breath, I can’t take my eyes off Tristan as the game starts. I’m impressed by the way he seamlessly dodges and dances around the other players, in complete control of himself and his stick, his movements powerful and smooth. I’m also impressed by Alex, who is fast and flexible despite all the padding he’s wearing.

“Mmmm. Did you just see that split Alex just did when he caught that puck?” Her nails dig into my skin through my shirt. “Goddamn, that man is flexible… and so am I.” She gives me a wink and we burst into laughter. “I think I’m pregnant with his baby, and he hasn’t touched me yet.”

I howl with laughter, shaking my head. “Oh my God, girl. You’re crazy.”

The first period has me biting my nails as I look at the clock, watching as it counts down. The Bears scored a questionable goal, and Tristan is currently discussing it with the referee.

Play resumes and the Wolverines are playing more aggressively. The seconds are ticking down when Tristan slams the puck into the Bear’s net, scoring a goal and tying the game.

Leaping to our feet, Chelsea and I jump and scream with the rest of the fans. The buzzer sounds, and the team celebrates. Tristan looks up at me right as Gardner, the guy whose jersey I was wearing, sticks his foot out and trips him. He tries to make it look accidental, but the smirk he gives his other teammate says it was anything but.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Oh, that was a mistake. Just wait. He’ll get his revenge.”

I bite my lip as Tristan gets in Gardner’s face in front of their bench, and the Coach comes up, angrily barking out a few words as he separates them.

As Tristan plops onto the bench, removing his helmet and gloves, his green eyes latch onto mine. He gives me a sexy grin, winking at me, and goddamn, my heart stops before it begins furiously banging inside my chest.

“Damn. Why don’t you two go fuck on the ice,” Chelsea murmurs.

“Chelsea.” I slap her arm, shaking my head. “Stop. Why don’t you worry about Alex.”

“Oh, I am. I’m over here dreaming of all the ways that flexible man can do all kinds of unspeakable things to me. The only reason I can’t talk about them in detail is because of all these fools. But I’ll tell you later?—”

“No, thanks. Keep your unspeakable thoughts sacred by keeping them to yourself.”

Sitting back, I shake my head. But I get caught up indaydreaming about Tristan and me in the shower, making me squirm in my seat.

My mom leans over to my ear. “Nice jersey, baby girl. Looks like a certain captain has it bad for you.”

I stare at her, wide-eyed. “Oh, no. We’re just?—”

Before I can lie and say friends, the roar of the crowd overwhelms any conversation as the players head back to the ice.

The game resumes, and I’m beginning to think Chelsea was wrong about Tristan getting revenge. The Bears have the puck and are moving it toward Alex, who positions himself, ready to prevent the puck from getting anywhere near the net. My gaze is locked on Tristan, whose expression resembles a tornado about to level Gardner.

Tristan chucks Gardner into the boards before stealing the puck from the Bears player. The refs immediately blow their whistle, calling a penalty on Tristan.

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