Page 27 of Behind the Net

“Uh, no. I can do that.” His eyes meet mine. “I was thinking you could go with her.”

My expression is dubious. “You know I don’t know anything about hockey, right?”

His face relaxes, and he makes a noise that’salmosta laugh. Almost. Like an amused hum. “That’s okay. She doesn’t care. Just keep her company.”

“I can do that. Is she grumpy like you?”

I blurt it out without thinking. The more Jamie and I hang out, the easier it is to tease him like this. This is a hell of a lot better than the tense, awkward silences.

He arches an eyebrow, and something bubbles up inside me. It feels like delight. “No.”

Even though he isn’t smiling, his eyes glitter, encouraging me. I make an overexaggerated face of relief. “Good. That would be a long night.”

He stares at me, and I flatten my mouth so I don’t laugh. It feels like he wants to smile, and my heart is bouncing around in my chest like a ping-pong ball. If I had seenthisversion of Jamie in high school, I’d have been a full-out stalker.

“Very funny,” he says instead.

I roll my eyes. “I know, I’m hilarious. Okay, I’m gonna head home.”

“Thanks for dropping off the keys.”

“No problem.” I take two steps before I stop and turn to him. He’s still standing there, watching me leave. “Jamie?”

He waits, watching me intently.

“You should go out with the team. I bet it would be fun.”

His gaze roams my face, and it feels like he wants to say something, but he just nods once. “I’ll think about it.”

CHAPTER15

PIPPA

A San Joseplayer slams Hayden into the boards in front of us, and around us, fans are screaming, slamming their hands against the glass, rattling it. A roar ofboos rises up from our end of the arena.

“That’s a fucking penalty!” a guy behind us shouts at the ref.

Jamie’s mom, Donna, glances at me with bright eyes, the same deep green as Jamie’s.

“This is very exciting,” she says, smiling. “It’s easier to say that when my son isn’t the one getting slammed into the boards.”

She fiddles with a string of beads around her left wrist, twirling them. She’s been doing that since we got to the stadium.

I smile at her, and my eyes catch on Jamie in the net near us. Watching Jamie Streicher play a game is a totally different experience than sitting in on a practice. When he blocks the puck, the crowd around us cheers for him, although it doesn’t even seem like he notices or cares. Just like in practice, he’s faster than I can follow, but now, there are five guys trying to sink the puck in while another five fight them off. Jamie’s body bends and contorts in the net in sharp motions, but he makes it look easy. It’s fast-paced, brutal, and charged with energy.

I love it.

I thought hockey was boring, but maybe I never paid attention until now. My dad will be thrilled, of course.

My gaze drops to Donna’s fingers as she twirls the beads. “Can I get you anything? I can grab another drink or some food. Whatever you like.”

She shakes her head with a smile. “No, thank you, honey. I’m okay.” She tilts her head, studying me. “Are you from Vancouver?”

“North Vancouver,” I say without thinking.

“That’s where I live.” She lights up, and I freeze. “What neighborhood?”

I can’t lie to her—she’s too nice—and the longer I try to think of something, the more thoughts fall out of my head, so I just blurt out the truth. “Berkley Creek.”

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