Page 16 of Devil on Skates
“Questions?” Coach asks, already heading toward his office.
“No, sir,” the team answers as one.
As everyone gets back to their prep, Ronan slides onto the bench next to me. “Costello, huh? It’s a big deal having someone like him watching. No pressure.”
“It’s just another game,” I say, but we both know it’s not.
“You’ve seen Costello’s son on campus sometimes, right?” Ronan re-tapes his stick. “Can’t miss him. He walks around like he owns the place.”
A weird tightness spreads in my chest. “Oh, I’ve seen him.”
Ronan raises an eyebrow at my tone but says nothing more. Sometimes I forget he’s way more perceptive than his party-boy vibe lets on.
I finish getting ready on autopilot, my mind racing over the fact that Irina will be there. It’s probably not by her own choice, but that doesn’t change anything. Since that café run-in, I’ve been plotting how to make anotheraccidentalmeet happen. Now one’s basically been handed to me, even if it’s complicated because of her dad and her potential boyfriend sitting right there.
The irony? Me, a guy who could have anyone he wanted, obsessing over the one girl avoiding him.
What is it about her that she’s got under my skin so deep? That question replays in my mind as we head out for warm-ups, our blades carving fresh ice.
The stands are filling up, and I scan the premium seats out of habit. Even though I expect it, seeinghersteals my breath away.
Irina’s there, sitting with Keith. Her dark hair’s down, and she’s wearing a deep blue sweater that somehow makes her look both grown-up and young at the same time.
But she looks uncomfortable, as if she’s putting on a show. Her smile’s too perfect and her posture stiff. This isn’t Irina being herself.
I know that act, because I’ve spent years doing the same thing. Showing what people expect, and not what’s really inside.
Then I zero in on Keith. His expensive, casual look and fake smile scream privilege. He’s sitting way too close to Irina, not touching, but close enough to claim her.
Something flares up inside me. She shouldn’t be there next to him in the VIP seats. She should be wearing my jersey like the other players’ girlfriends.
What the fuck?
Since when do I want a girl wearing my jersey? I’ve always avoided the whole public relationship drama, especially the social media posts about the girlfriends in special sections. It’s too much hassle for my balanced life of hockey, school, and casual flings.
But picturing Irina in my colors, cheering just for me? That’s a feeling I can’t shake.
“Earth to Gallagher.” Ronan’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “Coach’s watching.”
I snap back to warm-ups, forcing my focus on the drills while my mind splits between the game and the girl in the stands.
The warm-ups end, and we head back to the locker room for Coach’s final rundown. My chest tightens, not because of the team across the ice, but because Irina’s eyes will be on me soon.
“Discipline and execution,” Coach says as we suit up to hit the ice again. “No showboating and no dumb risks. Impress with smarts and not flash.”
He looks right at me then. I nod, playing it cool, but I’m already planning my own game. Coach wants controlled, sharp hockey to impress Keith. Me? I want Irina to not be able to look away.
The buzzer sounds, and we burst onto the ice to cheers. As we line up, I sneak a glance at the premium seats. Irina’s staring somewhere above the ice, not at the players.
Challenge accepted.
The first period’s the usual back-and-forth, with both teams feeling each other out. I’m playing solidly and watching Coach while waiting for my moment.
Our defenseman grabs a sloppy pass near our blue line and fires it to me. I catch it, skate hard, find the gap between their defenders, and push through.
Their defense scrambles as I close in on the net. The goalie shifts, guessing my shot. Instead of shooting right away, I drag the puck across, forcing him to commit, then flip it top shelf on his blocker side.
Goal light flashes, the horn blares, and the crowd goes wild.
