Page 32 of No Rhyme or Roughing
My breath stuttered as I stood, but then I saw her. She’d moved down the last few rows to stand right at theglass, eyes ready, expectant. Belief—it was a powerful drug.
Overhead, a rock song started. Jameson’s voice blared from the speakers to entertain our few fans.
“Cassidy, what are you doing? Get back here!” Griff’s words faded as I hopped over the boards, landing easily on my skates.
“What are you doing, man?” Teddy asked, a confused smirk on his face.
Others tried to talk to me—my brother, Frankie, teammates. I barely heard them as the music filled my head, along with Sydney’s words.
I dare you.
“Fucking Sydney,” I murmured to myself.
“Cassidy?” A ref skated toward me as I neared center ice. “You should be back with your team.”
Issuing a silent apology, I glided away from him, picking up speed. He came after me, a line judge following. Both chased me as the tempo of the music picked up, and I lifted my arms.
Shit, I didn’t know what to do with them or how to move.
Let loose.
She thought I was uptight, wound up.
Fuck that.
I ignored the refs still trying to catch me, my teammates yelling my name. Switching from one skate to the other, I lowered to one knee, sliding across the ice. It was a popular song, one Teddy liked to belt out at home. Before I knew what I was doing, my lips formed the words like I was giving a full performance.
A spotlight hit me as I attempted a turn, stumblingon my skates before righting myself. The refs no longer chased me, but a few teammates tried to skate into my path to grab my attention.
I outmaneuvered them, ducking away from their grasps. Lifting one leg, I held it behind me like a fucking ballerina. I figured I was screwed either way. Might as well go all out.
Then, I blacked out. I didn’t know how I danced or for how long, just that I did. My body moved in unnatural ways, but the more I went on, the more confidence I gained.
Skating close to where Sydney stood filming me, I blew a kiss toward the camera.
And then, I promptly crashed into the boards.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SYDNEY
He was bad. Like, terrible. I hadn’t made Ryder practice dancing because I figured anyone who could skate as well as a professional hockey player knew how to move.
I was wrong.
Biting my lip to stifle a laugh, I tried to hold my phone steady, zooming in as Ryder floated to the other end of the ice, one leg lifted behind him.
One of the refs started chasing him again, scrambling to catch up and end the nonsense. The other had given up and now stood near the benches, watching with the same stupefied expression as the players on both teams.
No one on the ice cheered, but there was a smattering of hollers from the stands.
“What is happening right now?”
Sam joined me at the glass, but I could hardly hear her over the music, so I ignored her, giving my full attention to the man currently making a fool of himself.
This was complete gold.
If enough people saw this, it would put butts in seats, no doubt.
