Page 29 of Shutout
Anyway, my girlfriends in high school were two cheerleaders—separate occasions, of course, I’m not a douchebag—and a tennis player. I briefly dated a figure skater at the start of freshman year. I haven’t dated anyone steady since, but most of my hookups have been jocks of some sort. They understand the lifestyle. They know the game goes first. School second. Them third, maybe tied with friends or even in fourth place.
Liv is the kind of girl who should be in first place. I know that—I’ve always known that. This is what has never made her my type. So why am I looking at her right now?
She’s not my type, I repeat to myself.
My brow furrows as I focus on the ref dropping the puck for the faceoff. Brighton is a good team, a Frozen Four contender. I don’t know if it’s because they’re severely underestimating us after years of us sucking sweaty armpit, but plays are developing as if this was a choreographed practice drill. I squirt water on my face as the PP special team scores our first goal of the night.
Liv doesn’t jump to her feet like the rest of the arena, ifanything she looks bored. My lips twitch. I’ve missed seeing that.
She used to come to every one of my games even though she abhorred every second. She was the only familiar face in the crowd for me. Is tonight an outlier, or is she going to become my person again?
I should ask her. I’ll find her after the game. But first, we have to win it. The least I could do to acknowledge her efforts is to not lose like a clown.
When the lines change again, I hit the ice like a boulder. The Brighton guy who fouled me is out now, and he immediately gets in my grill. “Hey, asshole. You think you’re so tough?” He pushes my chest hard.
I tuck my tongue against my cheek but can’t keep the grin off my face. “If I wasn’t, what would that make you? The worst defender in the conference, I guess.”
I dodge the swipe, laughing my head off when it gets him a misconduct because the refs aren’t messing around tonight. I skate across the Brighton bench, biting my tongue in anoopsieexpression that gets them all shouting lovely epithets at me. Boo freaking hoo.
Right before play resumes, I catch Liv shaking her head at me. It’s like she might’ve forgotten my style. A lot of defenders use their physicality to intimidate their opponents. I could, too, yet I just amplify my blimbo personality until I become truly insufferable. That, paired with my top notch stamina and conditioning, is what makes me an effective D-man.
Aka I’m a pest who doesn’t quit. Which is also the approach I’m going to use with Liv now that she’s let me back in her life.
The game ends with the Thunder Bolts winning by shutout, the most satisfying game of my life so far. I follow my teammates through the tunnel and pick up a pair of skate guards, my ears roaring with their chatter but even more withthe rapid drum of my heart. Without telling anyone, I split right where I should’ve gone left for the locker room. I pause to shoe on the guards before leaving the players area.
“Brooklyn!” Some girl exclaims. “That was such a great game. Would you?—”
“Yes, thank you.” I glance over her head, scanning the faces until I spot the one I want. The girl keeps talking and I give some non committal sound as I side step her. It takes severalsorryandexcuse meto wade through the throngs. Fortunately, it raises enough attention that Liv notices me quickly.
And she tries to run.
I shout, “Aceituna.” It stops her dead in her tracks, if only so she can glare over her shoulder. My lips twitch. “Stay still, woman.”
She turns her face to one of her friends who’s saying something as I approach. When I finally reach her, the full force of her brown eyes is on me.
Damn, she could be a hockey player with that glare.
I prop my hands on the butt end of the stick. “So, what’d you think?”
“Barbaric, as usual.” She folds her arms, face pinching in even more annoyance.
“I know you liked it,” I say, nodding, which makes sweat drip down my nose. “You were proud of me for drawing a penalty without fighting.”
“I—what?”
“It was all over your face.”
“You were watching Liv’s face during the game?” one of her friend’s asks. She’s one of the girls who was with Liv on the night I caught Trent cheating.
I startle. “Oh, hey. I’m Brooklyn. Who are you?”
“Mina Lee.” She presses her lips tight as if trying not to smile. “Not to be confused by chopped liver.”
I blink slowly.
“Good game out there, Tatum.” I turn to the other voice and find Dee Meyer standing next to Liv. Her I recognize because she’s a Strike.
“Huh. What’s up with the sudden sportsmanship?” I ask her.
