Page 57 of Overtime
“Look, you’re standing on the ice.”
I cannot see anything other than the gray of his hoodie and the upper portion of theS.
“If you let me go, I will kill you.”
“I’m not letting you go.”
Feeling his voice rumble against my body, the clean smell of his skin and of the laundry soap on his clothes, the heat of his body where it touches mine, his hands firmly clasped around my waist… is too date-like.
Swallowing thickly, I lean back until my feet start sliding. Every time that happens, my heart rate goes up. I make the mistake of tipping my head back.
Aran is smiling. “Maybe you actually suck at this.”
“I’m afraid of falling. How do I get back up if I do?” I ask, breathless without even having skated an inch.
“I’ll lift you up.”
Maddie, this is not a date. Pull yourself together.
We’re just talking mechanics here. Nothing about feelings or anything like that.
I swallow with difficulty. “Um, I’m really heavy, though. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”
“Please.” He snorts. “I could bench-press you.”
I glance at his thick biceps, his hard chest, his broad shoulders. “You do look strong, but?—”
“Stop panicking, Strawberry. I got you.” Aran grabs my waist a little tighter, which is both horrifying and thrilling. He can probably feel all my fat rolls, but it’s the first time a guy has ever touched me there, and I don’t dislike it. Not at all.
“Um, all right.”
“Good. Now I’m going to skate back. Eyes on mine. Don’t think about your feet.”
I nod, and I do not think about my feet during the rest of the night.
CHAPTER 17
ARAN
I’m so damn pissed, I’m about to lose my cool.
I don’t even need to look up at the board to know we’re losing miserably. An early goal put the Falcons of Northern State on the board. We tied it in second period, but I let in two more like a stinking sieve. And one of them was a weak wraparound I should’ve been able to stop with my eyes closed.
Worse, as if my wall crumbling caused an earthquake, the rest of the team has been a mess. Webber missed an easy pass. Amadi got sent to the sin bin for high sticking. And we’re ending the second period in a PK that is testing me.
As I follow the play, I breathe in deep and try to calm my tits. Bodies scrimmage before me, and I bite harder onto the mouth guard. This game should’ve been a cakewalk. The Falcons are good but not as good as we are. We’re the Frozen Four contenders, not them.
Even if I have to stop the puck with my face, I will.
I block a shot at my five-hole with my right knee. From the corner of my eye, Falcon number 4, a forward, approaches with the intent of picking up the garbage. I stack my pads. The guy crashes into me from the side, and I eat the net. Something digsinto my side hard enough I feel it even through the pads. It tears a grunt out of me.
The weight comes off. As I sit up, Webber turns out to be the reason. “Get the hell off our goalie, asshole!”
“What goalie?” Falcon number 4 laughs and shoves Webber with enough force to down a tree. “All you have is a monkey that couldn’t even catch a banana.”
And then I lose it.
One second, I’m down and the next, my mitts are off and my fist connects with the dipshit’s face. Then he’s on his ass.
