Page 36 of Dating Goals
“Stop hitting on me!” I yell back, flicking the puck toward the boards. “Or at least buy me dinner first.”
We have possession of the puck now. The Visp crowd roars as we race it up ice. Christoph charges through the opposition, with Peter on his flank. Tyler crashes into the mix, setting the tone. But Zürich ’s relentless. Their defenders converge, pinning us back. The tension is a living thing, hovering over the ice like a bad smell.
Peter makes a hard pass to Christoph, who rockets it straight at Zürich ’s goalie. The rebound is brutal, and a Zürich player with red hair and a scrappy attitude jumps in. They’ve got my number and aren’t afraid to dial it.
“We’ll take it from here, McGregor!” Christoph calls, his accent thick with Swiss determination.
I chuckle. “Sure, just let me know when it’s safe to open my eyes!”
The crowd’s a monster, swallowing every play, and before I know it, a streak of blue has broken through our line. My stomach drops. It’s Sawyer. The man with a shot straight from hell.
He fires. I brace. The puck screams toward me. It slams into my pads with a resounding thump, and my heart is in my throat. This guy really doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘friendly’.
Zürich ’s got some real firepower. A guy with a shaggy mustache takes a crack at me. The puck skitters past my foot. A close call. I dive, arms outstretched, catching it with my glove. Saved!
This game is personal, and Sawyer’s out to prove he’s the new Swiss hotshot.
“You always this quiet?” Sawyer hollers from his spot on the ice, baiting me with his famous smile.
“Just thinking about how that blue jersey matches your pretty eyes,” I fire back, flicking the puck over to Tyler. It sails across the rink like a gift, and Sawyer’s all over it.
But then a Zürich defenseman mishandles the puck near center ice. Christoph swoops in, passes to Tyler. Tyler fakes a shot and gives it to Peter, who’s found some magic, putting it past the Zürich goalie. Goal! The Visp fans lose their minds, and for a brief, glorious moment, I think we’re in this.
The next few minutes are chaos. Bodies fly, blades slice, and I’m bombarded by blue jerseys and even bluer language amidst the friendly red of Visp’s jerseys. My brain’s whirling. Zürich ties it with seconds to spare, sending us to sudden death overtime.
It’s three on three, and Sawyer’s still in play. An assist here, a play there. Before I can blink, Zürich steals it with a deflected goal off Sawyer’s assist.
The buzzer sounds, and it’s bedlam. Fans cheering, players congratulating each other. First game against Sawyer, and now I know what he’s made of. It’s strange being on this side of his madness. He flashes those pearly whites at me and salutes mockingly. If this were a Titans game, we’d be celebrating this win together. Now, I’ll never hear the end of it.
“Good job!” Sawyer says as I slump over to center ice for the post-game rituals. He beams and slaps me on the back, nearly sending me sprawling.
“Yeah, yeah.” I feign a grimace, pulling him into a quick headlock before pushing him off. He looks like a rock star, waving at his wife Maggie in the stands, pumping fists with every member of the Zürich team.
Maggie is jumping up and down like a maniac, bellowing and contorting her face like she’s at a WWE match instead of a hockey game. It’s good to see her in the crowd.
After the game, we hit a café, the three of us cozied around a little table with tiny mugs. Maggie is chatting like she hasn’t seen anyone in years.
“You played great, Griffin!” she says, slugging my arm condescendingly. “That helmet trick was my favorite.”
I roll my eyes. “I aim to dazzle.”
Sawyer smirks, nudging Maggie. “I think we scrambled him good.”
Maggie leans in, all animated and full of stories. “Isn’t it amazing here? I talked Sawyer into signing with Zürich the minute I heard we could live in Switzerland. Best decision ever.”
“We are loving it,” Sawyer says, wrapping an arm around her. “Even brought Otto with us.”
I chuckle. “Crazy parrot. Please tell me he’s speaking German curse words now.”
Maggie gives a satisfied little nod. “He speaks more German than Sawyer.”
“Whatever.” Sawyer shrugs, playing it off. “I’m loving Switzerland. Maybe I’ll just stay.”
“Please,” Maggie sighs dramatically, draping herself over his shoulder. “Say yes. I need at least two months to buy all the cheese. And chocolate! Oh. My Gosh. The chocolate.”
“The stuff back home doesn’t even compare,” Sawyer says.
“Um, hello!” I counter. “Remember the fudge in Brookking Sound? And the hot chocolate at Tuckers? Life changing.”
