Page 95 of The Fake Date Agreement

I just watch him, and I wonder how he isn’t withering under all the arena’s attention on him. He is literally shouldering everyone’s hopes and dreams, and I’m the one sweating from that pressure. How does he do it?

His first goal is so effortless, I don’t even know how it happens.

One moment he’s skating ahead, the puck gliding between three figures, and the next, the puck is in the back of the net, an alarm blares, and they’re all skating away again.

Everyone is already on their feet as I scramble to mine. Then they’re settling back down again, leaving me as the only one still standing.

The announcer is talking through the goal as Caleb steps off the ice and turns to look right at me. I have to be wrong. Why would he be looking at me?

I dip my head, embarrassed when people look at me too.

I cheer when everyone else does, and I try to forget that Marc is sitting feet away on a date with the girl he cheated on me with.

Minutes later, I’m stuffing more popcorn into my mouth when I freeze as my face, complete with a love heart, appears on the big screen.

You have got to be joking.

Whoever is controlling that kiss cam needs to die because they have a serious vendetta against me.

Everyone is twisting around to look at me. I’m getting redder as the guy sitting on my left leans away, not interested in getting sucked into this humiliation. And why would he?

The camera isn’t moving as the crowd cheers their encouragement. But it’s just me. There’s no one for me to kiss.

I shrivel like a prune, scrunching up in my seat as I raise my popcorn to shield my flaming red face from the zooming camera.

I ignore the commotion coming from my left as I slide down my seat so I can hide on the floor.

The crowd yells louder. Someone gasps. Someone else laughs.

I don’t dare move the popcorn from my face.

Suddenly, someone grips my wrist and hauls me to my feet.

Reid.

Wait. Isn’t he supposed to be in the players’ box?

He’s flushed, sweat on his face, an extreme case of hat hair like he wrenched his helmet from his head and didn’t so much as run a hand through it to tame it.

A grin splits his handsome face. “No way was I going to pass this up, Tobie.”

I blink, confused, until he takes the popcorn from my hand, passes it to the guy on my left, and draws me into a luscious, perfect kiss I feel from the top of my head to my curling toes.

The world ends.

It’s just Reid, me, and this perfect kiss. His lips are slightly cold, but the arms he wraps around me are strong and warm. When he angles his head slightly and parts his mouth, he tastes like a fresh forest and warm caramel.

He releases a soft groan into my mouth as he lifts me, and the sound tugs something deep inside me.

My feet leave the floor as I wrap my arms around him.

It’s only when he breaks the kiss that the world penetrates our bubble.

We’re still on the big screen as the crowd cheers and shouts.

The coach, near the ice, is screaming, “Graves, get your ass back down here!”

“You’re in trouble,” I whisper.

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