Page 156 of Make the Play

“Gross,” Lulu chokes. “Can we not talk about my brother like that?”

Tamara raises an eyebrow. “You think he wasknittingthe night you caught us in the pantry?”

Lulu makes a strangled sound and covers her ears. “I’m going to puke.”

There’s another big hit, then a right hook. A clean uppercut that makes the guy stumble, and Chase doesn’t even hesitate.He’s breathing hard, bleeding from the lip, and vibrating with rage.

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter.

“That’s not Jesus,” Tamara says. “That’s a man who hasn’t seen his girlfriend in four days and is planning to break every bedframe in a ten-mile radius.”

Lulu scoffs. “He’s literally bleeding from the mouth, and you guys are turned on?”

“Yes,” we say in unison.

Chase gets sent to the box, still breathing hard, his knuckles red and jaw clenched. When he glances over and looks right at me, my whole body seizes as his eyes remain glued on mine, his tongue slowly sweeping across his bottom lip.

“You’re gonna get it so bad later,” Tamara whispers gleefully.

“I’m not wearing pants with structural integrity,” I hiss. “I can’t take this.”

“Maybe don’t wear pants at all next time,” Lulu murmurs, eyes on the ice. “Save yourself the laundry.”

I hum in agreement, my eyes still locked on him. “Worth it.”

Chase drags his tongue along his bottom lip again, and Lulu tilts her head. “I mean... I kinda get it.”

We both turn to stare at her.

“Not forhim.” She nods at the ice. “For Miller.”

We follow her gaze just as Logan Miller, the Pookie bear himself, steps into a scuffle and drops his gloves. It’s not showy or dramatic, just efficient. Controlled andhot.

I glance sideways at Lulu, who’s locked in like a sniper.

“God,” she moans. “I hate you both for this.”

I shrug a shoulder and offer a grin. “Welcome to the club.”

“We arenottelling Eli about this,” Tamara mutters.

The game continues, and I try to focus, but every time Chase touches the puck, my pulse spikes. He’s a machine tonight—clean reads, killer passes, shutting down the rush like he wasborn for it. Late in the period, Chase hits the ice again on the power play. Logan sets up the pass from the point, and Chase doesn’t hesitate, just takes the shot.

Goal.

The entire arena explodes. I’m on my feet before I even realize I’ve moved, screaming with everyone else, watching as he throws one arm in the air and skates toward the glass on one knee.

The goal lights flash, and the music cuts in.

I freeze, because suddenly, lyrics about liking girls a little bit older from The Outfield song,Your Love, are blaring through the arena.

Lulu gasps. “Oh… No, he didn’t.”

“Oh, he did,” Tamara says gleefully.

“Chase Walton, I willkillyou,” I hiss, still standing.

Chase is skating backward now, a devilish grin in place, helmet slightly askew and pointing directly at me with his stick. Deadass. Across the rink, an arm extended like a middle-school boy declaring his crush. Cheering sounds all around while Lulu wheezes beside me.

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