Page 93 of Switching Skates
Chet smacks him in the same spot Ross hit me. “Shut the fuck up. He’s in love. He can’t think clearly right now.”
Oh, Chet, the lover boy, hidden beneath snarky quips and jokes.
I actually feel a lot better after telling them about it and getting a little of the pressure off of my chest. “I left her and Maeve tickets at the booth. The seats are halfway up from the team bench.”
“Well, it’s warm-up time, baby. What do you say? Should we go find out?” Ross offers me his hand.
I take it, and he pulls me to my feet as adrenaline starts to flood my bloodstream.
“Let’s fucking do this.” I exhale.
Walking past everyone, I step into the hallway, my heart in my throat, and head down the tunnel that opens up into our bench and the ice, leading my team.
The music starts thumping, right on cue.
Our entrance song blasts through the speakers as I lift my stick and take down the pyramid of pucks on top of the board.
Grabbing a biscuit with my blade, I skate toward the goal and fire it into the net.
Skating around the net, I look back into the flow of traffic, my gaze immediately falling to the seats I picked out for the girls tonight. But they’re still empty.
Forcing my focus back onto the ice, I glide over to my net and start carving it up, roughing the ice up and creating traction infront of the net, and scoot the loose snow to the outside of the posts.
“Hello, friends.” I greet each post with a gentle fist bump. “I missed you.”
I like to think they’d greet me back if they could. They’re as much a part of this team as I am, making more saves than me sometimes. I wish I knew what their save percentage was?—
Oh my God, stop. You’re literally mentally rambling.
Dropping to my knees, I stretch my legs out even more, going through my warm-up routine while the guys form their two circles around the red dots and start their passing drill.
My skin feels like it’s on fire, prickly and hot. Even on the ice, I feel like I’m a thousand degrees, waiting for Daphne to show up.
I can’t think straight. I’m pretty sure my lungs are malfunctioning—fuck, more like my entire body.
She’s consumed me, my entire being, and I’m helplessly at her mercy. I’m in my arena, in my own element, and all I can do is think about her.
I don’t know what I’m going to do if she doesn’t want to be with me. I can’t blame her if she runs away from us, like I did years ago. I can’t blame her for fearing that I’d ever do it again. I know that I won’t, but faith and fear go hand in hand, and faith in me is what she has to rely on.
A puck smacks into my side, and I wouldn’t have even noticed it if it wasn’t for the five others that follow right after.
Turning my head to the left, I find all of the guys in that group standing still and staring at me. My eyes find Chet immediately.
“Mason! She’s here.” His face is lit up, and a pulsing ache forms in the center of my chest.
Oh God, I don’t know if I can physically turn myself to face her.
“You and Me” by Lifehouse starts playing through the speakers, which is definitelynota part of our warm-up music.
What the hell?
As hard as Chet fights it, he loses, and a big smile takes over his face. “I might have helped a little.”
“The song?” I ask, stalling to turn and see if my heart is going to be broken or not while I’m equally confused on how Chet already knew about the plan tonight.
“Well, I helped with the song change and coordinating with the staff.” He lifts his hand, palm up, and gestures to the crowd, where Daphne and Maeve are more than likely sitting. “Will you hurry up and just look at your girl?”
I suddenly realize the guys to my right have stopped skating, too, all standing and staring at me with shit-eating grins on their faces.
