Page 136 of Hitting the Goal Line
“Your story is out there, Soph.” Chloe starts up again once the crowd has gone somewhat quiet. “People will know what kind of person that he is. No blame should fall on you. You told themwhat kind of person he can turn into. Whether they believe it or not, is up to them. If they don’t, then their ignorance shouldn’t fall on you. It falls on them.”
My beautiful friend is right.
The blame shouldn’t fall on me. But there are people that are going to try their hardest to make sure that is does, no matter the outcome.
“Thank you, Chloe.” I say to her, reaching over and wrapping my arms around her.
“Of course. I’m here whenever you need me.”
I give her a smile when I pull back. “I’m sorry I made a hockey game so heavy.”
“We should really plan a girls’ night on a non-game day. Maybe then Eliana will finally join too.”
“Whenever you want, I will be there.”
The rest if the game ends up turning into a blur. One second we are in the middle of the second period, and the next, the game is over with the Knight barley coming out with the win.
As soon as the game is called, both Chloe and I make our way down to the ice. She heads directly to Liam and I head to Blake.
This is the first time that I’m doing this as something more than his best friends and for some reason I’m nervous as I walk down to where he is waiting. Apparently the title shift from best friend to girlfriend was a lot more drastic than I thought would be.
The nerves go away, though, when he finds me in the crowd and throws a boyish grin in my direction. Now instead of nerves, a swarm of butterflies start to invade my whole body.
Good butterflies. Butterflies that I know will be here to stay and I won’t be letting go of even after I take my last breath.
“‘Get your shit together,’ huh?” Blake asks, his grin turning into a smirk as I close the distance between us.
“You heard that?” I ask, raising my eyebrows. There’s no way that he did.
“You’re loud as fuck. Even with a crowd of over thirty thousand,” he says, leaning down and giving me a chaste kiss on the lips.
I can’t even get mad at him for calling me loud anymore.
“Good. Now you can get your shit together.”
“I will see what I can do,” he tells me just as his eyes move down my body. “Where did you get that jersey?” he asks, his tone shifting a bit.
A blush starts to creep up my face.
Since it was the first game of his that I was attending since October and us as a couple, I thought I would pull all the stops today with my outfit to celebrate his coming out of the injured list. All the stops included faux leather pants, heeled boots, hair, and make-up done and a jersey that I took from his closet.
I could have worn any of the fifty Jacobi jerseys that I own but I thought this jersey would not only make this whole thing special, but would go perfectly with my outfit. I was right on both accounts.
And because I’ve been with Blake through his whole NHL career, I know exactly what jersey I’m wearing.
“From your closet,” I answer him, giving him a fake confused look.
“That’s my first game-day jersey,” he says, that smirk of his getting more prominent.
“Is it?” I ask, looking down at the jersey as if I had no clue. “I had no idea.”
“Cut the crap, Martinez. Yeah, you did. You wore that jersey on purpose,” Blake concludes.
And now it’s my turn to wear a smirk. “And what purpose would that be?” I ask, folding my arms across my chest.
It doesn’t go unnoticed how Blake’s eyes go directly there before meeting my eyes.
He closes the distance between us even more and leans all the way down, until his lips are at the shell of my ear.
