Page 70 of Overtime
“Oh.” I collapse against the bookshelf.
Aran pulls away. With one last look that could melt someone’s clothes off, he turns away and leaves me a mess.
CHAPTER 21
ARAN
I’m back, baby.
That was all I needed. A safe outlet for my pent-up energy. I can’t believe it presented itself in such a casual way. Bless hockey romance book research, am I right? One little kiss, and I’m cured of the curious case of the cranky hormonal haze I’ve been plagued by since the whole Kelsey mess in January.
Today is shootout practice, and I’m killing it. Twenty-three saves to two goals. I catch an easy shot from one of the JV freshmen and drop the puck back onto the ice.
“You watched the puck,” I say, because Coach Green demanded I give advice during the drills. “Next.”
The following guy positions himself at center ice and goes from zero to one hundred in the blink of an eye, like this is a breakaway. I crouch a little lower. His stick handling skills are pretty good. They’d fool Edwards.
Not me. I pluck the puck right from the air.
“Dayum, son!”
“Bro, did you see that?”
“Unreal.”
Edwards’s voice is louder from the opposite net, where he waits for his next attacker. “Why didn’t he play like this last week?”
I toss the puck away, and to the slack-jawed JV forward, I say, “You would’ve scored against our backup goalie.”
“Damn you, Rodriguez,” comes from the opposite net.
I smile and wipe it off right away, not that anyone had a chance at seeing it through my gigantic mask.
“Next.”
Jamal does score on me, which earns him a lot ofoohs andahhs. Two more JV players try. One of them shoots so wide even he snarls in frustration. The other one has a good slapshot on him, but my knee’s faster and sends the puck bouncing away.
The whistle pierces my eardrum, followed by clapping. “All right, everyone. That’s good enough for today. Keep this energy up for the next stretch of games.”
“Don’t forget it’s the last one before regionals,” Assistant Coach Thomas adds.
“Yes, sir!” the two teams chorus back, even though Varsity is the one that can almost taste the Frozen Four. That is, if I can keep playing like today and don’t send everything to the crapper again.
“Now, hit the showers and get some rest. Don’t let me catch you in the news tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir!”
I hang back as everyone files off the ice. The coaches discuss something among themselves, and freeze up as I skate over. Can’t be faulted for thinking it was about me.
I pull my mask off, and Coach Green says, “Rodriguez, good catches today, son.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Silence.
The two of them exchange a telepathic message. Assistant Coach Thomas nods and says, “I’m gonna go make some notes about today. See you at the office, Glen.”
“Catch you later, Jerry.” Coach Green folds his arms and chews on his gum with more purpose. “You appear to want to talk. Is this a miracle?”
