Page 10 of Seal the Deal

“Everything okay?” Zoe asks. I break out of my trance to see her frowning. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Uh...” I try to play it cool, but I’m rattled. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

But I’m not. Not even close. My stomach’s flipping around like a pancake on speed.

“You’re acting weird.”

“I’m not!” I blurt, forcing a smile and taking a slug of my beer. “I'm just—”

Before I can finish, the Jumbotron flickers, and I appear on the screen. I’m met with a giant version of my startled face, in fuckinghigh definition.

I choke on my drink, sputtering beer down my chin as I try to hide behind my napkin. Zoe cackles beside me. “Oh my God,wave, you weirdo!” She nudges me, but it jolts the beer in my hand, sending it splashing all over my top.

Perfect.

The arena erupts in laughter as I sit theremortified, dabbing at my shirt with the most useless paper napkin to ever grace the earth. I’m covered in soggy pretzel, and my face is stuck on the jumbotron like a bad Tinder profile.

I hesitate, cheeks burning, but finally lift my hand in an awkward wave to the cheers of the crowd.

“I’m going to die. Right here, right now,” I mutter, trying to shrink into my seat.

After what feels like 143 years of Zoe cackling and trying to help dab at my shirt, the camera pans away. I let out a shaky breath and glance back at the ice, only for my pulse to cartwheel again. Jake’s staring.

Right at me.

Our eyes lock for what feels like an eternity. I gulp. He stares. I dart my eyes away, then back again. He's still staring. He looks... surprised? Confused? Maybe both. I don’t dwell on it because now I’m panicking, wondering if there’s any way I can crawl under this seat and live there for the rest of my life.

And what does he do? Hesmilesat me. A slow, familiar grin that makes my heart ache with memories. One that makes me think he hasn’t even registered the absolute clown show I’ve just performed to a full arena. My breath catches in my throat, and I force myself to look away as all the feelings I buried years ago come rushing back.

This is insane.

I stare down at my half-spilled beer, trying to regain some semblance of normalcy, but my heart’s still racing like I’ve downed three espressos. Jake’s here, on the ice, looking like some Greek God who traded Mount Olympus for a hockey rink.

And I’ve just done my best impression of a soggy human pretzel in front of him. Brilliant.

The periods pass in a blur, with Zoe narrating each play in my ear. As the game goes on, I steal glances at him, my heart leaping every time he comes near our side of the rink. At one point, there’s a scuffle on the ice. I look over to see Jake locked in a heated exchange with an opposing player.

The crowd goes still, holding its breath as the other guy shoves him. Jake doesn’t flinch, his jaw set, eyes blazing as he knocks the player to the ground. He’s utterly unbothered, and the confidence radiating off him is attractive as hell.

The ref intervenes to separate them, and as Jake skates past us, he glances in my direction and locks eyes with me again. Then, as if he’s done it a thousand times,he fucking winks at me.

My stomach flips. Zoe, oblivious to my internal meltdown, sighs dramatically. “He’s so great with the crowd, such a media darling.”

“Uh-huh,” I manage, cheeks heating up all over again.

After the final buzzer sounds, the crowd starts to pour out of the arena. But instead of heading for the exits like a sane person, Zoe grabs my arm, steering me toward the tunnel.

“What are you doing?” I hiss.

“Just wanna congratulate the boys and see if I can get a quick Insta update,” she says breezily as we weave through the crowd.

Before I can object, we’re at the tunnel, the noise of the crowd fading into the background. My heart’s pounding and I can’t decide if I want to run, hide, or spontaneously combust. I’m about to see Jake. After twelve freakin’ years. What am I supposed to say?

Hey, remember me? The girl you stayed up all night talking with at camp, but never kissed?

I run through my options. Act casual? Pretend like seeing him doesn’t feel like being hit by a semi-truck? Laugh it off? Get very drunk in the next five minutes? The only thing I know for sure is that my heart is pounding so loudly, I’m sure he’ll hear it.

One by one, the players start emerging and I lose all brain function. They’re all towering giants in suits and ties. Zoe’s camera is already out, snapping photos like she’s on a red carpet. Chase Walton, the team’s notorious playboy and perpetual thorn in Zoe’s side, is the first to appear. He’s exactly how Zoe described him: pure swagger. He lights up as soon as he spots Zoe.

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