Page 75 of Trick Shot
Rosco lets out a piercing whistle and Coach motionsfor us to gather around. He looks at every one of us for a second each before clearing his throat to start his speech. “Beat them,” he says before picking up his clipboard and walking away.
Coach Baylor is known for being a man of few words, but two might be a school record for a pre-game speech. Still, he’s right. That’s what we came here to do. There’s no other option. The Woodcock Bushtits are going down.
27
Claire
“Ifucking love hockey,” I tell my best friend as I pull her close. We’re on our feet like the rest of the crowd, watching the final minute of play. We’re up by one but Woodcock didn’t come to lose, and they’re crowding the net. We all collectively hold our breath when their lead scorer shoots a near-perfect shot. Time slows down as we all watch JT sink into a split to knock the puck away with the tip of his skate.
We scream like maniacs as Will snags the puck and heads down the ice, passing it back and forth to Mickey with dizzying speed. Those two know exactly what they’re doing. It’s a mindfuck as much as it is an actual game strategy, and it’s effective as hell. The Bushtit players crowd Mickey in a swarm of purple and green jerseys, but it doesn’t matter. Will takes the puck to the net and shoots it in like he’s walking to the mailbox for a package. Those assholes never even see it coming.
“They won!” Holland screams, jumping up and down, and that’s when I realize I am, too. But I don’t care. Ourboyfriends are headed to the next round. That’s something to celebrate.
And yes, I’m calling Pete my boyfriend. We didn’t put a label on it this morning, but I have no doubt that he sees me as his girlfriend. It’s what we’ve been for over a month now, even if we weren’t willing to admit it.
Suddenly, Holland stops cheering. She grabs my hand and drags me along as she follows Mel.
“Where are we going?” I ask, looking back to see Josie, Annabelle, and Maggie. They’re walking at a slower pace, but we’re all heading in the same direction.
“There’s a celebration in the locker room,” I hear someone say. “And the crowds will be crazy, so we’re heading there now.”
Maybe it’s the reporter in me, but I love this frenzied energy. I feel like a million stories are buzzing around me, but the only one I want to pay attention to tonight is Bainbridge’s victory.
There are reporters here, including Andy from school. In a rare display of humanity, he agreed that I should just be a spectator for this game so that I could watch my boyfriend play instead of tracking every movement and gathering sound bites and interviews.
We make it to a hall with two large gray doors on either side. Mel strides purposefully to the left and presents her badge to the security guard. He gives a nod and lets each of us in as he checks our credentials. I’m not surprised. I bet it’s about to get crazy in here.
“Has anyone seen Sophie?” Josie asks.
I look around to see everyone shaking their heads.
“She went to the bathroom a while ago and then I got so wrapped up in the game that I’m not sure if she came back or not.” Josie seems worried because she’s the kindest person ever, but Mel shrugs.
“She’ll find us, I’m sure. You can shoot her a text to let her know we’re in the locker room.”
Josie nods, and for a second, I wonder what we’re all going to do while we wait. But then the large gray door opens, and the team starts pouring in. It’s total chaos and though I’ll never describe myself as a people person, the energy in this room is contagious, and I find myself swept up in it.
Kind of like the way I’m swept up in Pete’s arms when he weaves through the crowd to find me. My feet are off the ground and I’m squealing. If someone had told me back in January that I’d be here now, I’d never have believed them, but I don’t want to be anywhere else. And I don’t want to be with anyone else. As impossible as it seems, Pete Santos is my perfect fit. He’s the sunshine to my grump, the smile to my scowl, the belly laugh to my eye roll.
“This is our fucking year,” he yells, spinning me around. I don’t know if he’s talking to me or to the team or to anyone within a hundred-mile radius, but I don’t think he’s wrong. All of this feels very right.
Pete sets me back on the ground before tipping his head back and howling like a wolf. Last fall, I’d have called that proof positive that athletes are just well-dressed, semi-organized animals. But now that I’m part of the zoo, I don’t mind so much.
“You were amazing,” I tell him, wrapping my arms around him. He’s sweaty and tired and he looks so damn handsome—and so damn happy—that I need a taste of his lips. He must need me too, because he wraps a hand around the back of my neck and pulls me in close while his mouth covers mine. Everything fades as I turn all my attention on Pete. Watching him play hockey is a kind of foreplay for me. I never would have guessed, but seeing himget all worked up, watching him dominate, and witnessing the way he takes control when he’s on the ice are all major turn-ons for me. Just thinking about it now sends a shiver through my body.
Oh.
It’s possible that the giant tub of ice water that’s just been poured on top of us is also what’s making me shiver.
Holy. Freaking. Hell.
I wipe the water out of my eyes and catch a glimpse of Dean and Ollie darting away.
“Fuck,” Pete curses, a smile still on his face.
“Are you cold now?” I tease him. He likes to act like growing up in Syracuse made him immune to the cold and that those of us who wear coats are just wimps who can’t hack it, but right now, his lips look a little purple.
“Cold?” he asks, shaking off the excess water like a dog. “Nah, I’m refreshed.”
