Page 63 of Test the Ice
Emory, the goalie, blocks a shot, and the team takes a quick break. The majority of them skate over to the bench, Malaki included.
He finds me staring, but his grin is fleeting. He gulps down some water, then he’s off again. Back and forth, skates cut against the ice, players shout random words, and at one point, a broken stick flies through the air.
It’s thrilling. The game. The strength and endurance that these men possess.
I cheer for Malaki–a guy I hardly knew a week ago–like I’ve known him for ages.
A squeaky yelp rushes from my lungs with the loud thump against the glass. I jerk backward, and my hand presses to my heart. Two players fight over a puck in front of me, and my jaw drops. Everyone around me jumps to their feet, some of them banging on the glass.
Another blur of blue appears, and my breath catches.
Malaki uses his elbow and forcefully breaks apart the collision then turns toward me for the quickest second of my life. He smirks, and suddenly, I’m sweating.
It takes me a second to snap out of it, but I swear my cheeks still remain warm by the end of the game.
The men celebrate with each other until they skate off the ice, only for Daisy, in her devil costume, to bring a few back onto it for Play of the Game.
I stay seated while other fans take off up the stairs, several of them likely calling Ubers.
I can’t say I’m sad not to be on the clock anymore.
Malaki’s name is called, and I’m suddenly on my feet, clapping. I’m not sure who I am when I cup my hands around my mouth and yell out like a crazed fan.
With a smile still on my face, I lower myself to sit but quickly stand straight up when I see who has taken the empty seat next to mine.
“So you’re a hockey fan now?”
I’m instantly on edge. A blistering heat sweeps over my skin. “What are you doing here?”
Benedict chuckles with malice. His hand lands on my arm, and he tugs me to sit next to him. He looks back through the glass and relaxes in his seat.
“Just wanted to watch a hockey game,” he answers cooly, running his hands down his slacks.
I’d bet my life that he came directly from work and bought a ticket from some random person on the street just to see if I was here.
Goosebumps fly to my skin at the thought of him watching me this entire time. He’s probably been waiting for the game to be over just so he could corner me.
“Since when do you watch hockey?” I ask, a bite to my tone.
“Since when are you engaged?” he retorts.
My teeth grind.
Benedict is intimidating.
He comes from wealth and is used to getting everything he wants. He likes to be in control, and thrives on it. It’s obvious he knows his control is slipping when it comes to me, consideringhe’s beginning to act even more irrational than before. I want to smack him or take my sister’s baseball bat to his prized possession, but I can’t. There is too much at stake, and he knows it.
Benedict looks at me with his eyebrows raised. He’s waiting for my answer, but I keep my mouth shut. As more seconds pass, his expression quickly shifts to something I can’t name. His smooth chuckle is like fingernails on a chalkboard to my ears. “Does your little best friend over there in the hot devil costume know the answer? Maybe I should ask her how long you’ve been in a relationship with one of the players.”
I pray he can’t see the panic on my face.
Shit.He’s been keeping tabs on me far longer than I thought if he knows that I’m friends with Daisy.
I grip the armrests of my seat. “Stop following me around.”
I push up from my seat, climb the concrete steps two at a time, and disappear through the arena in hopes that he won’t follow me.
He does, though. His voice hits the back of my head. “Well, when you avoid my calls, you leave me no choice.”
