Page 24 of Power Play
Ollie grins. “Didn’t say a word.”
“Say one more and I’m putting Deep Heat in your jockstrap.”
“Romantic,” Jacko mutters, stretching beside me.
“I’m just saying,” Ollie continues, undeterred, “if she’spretend, you’re selling it a bit too hard, mate.”
“I’m committed to the role,” I say flatly.
“Committed to something,” Jacko throws in.
“Can we all shut up and warm up like professionals?” Dylan growls as he skates past.
Ollie cups a hand to his mouth. “Tell your friend to stop distracting Murphy!”
Sophie hears that one but she doesn’t react. Justtilts her head slightly and raises a brow like she’s watching something mildly entertaining. Likeme.
God help me, I want to impress her.
The game starts fast.
We’re playing one of the top teams in the league, and the pace is brutal from puck drop. Mia’s at her usual post by the bench, clipboard in hand, doing that intense physio-focus thing where she zones out the crowd completely. Dylan’s locked in, barking instructions. The rookies are trying to keep up.
And I’m flying.
Every stride hits right. Every pass clicks. My hands are sharp, my legs loose, and the adrenaline hits like fire under my skin. By the end of the first period, we’re up by one and I’ve already racked up an assist. But I want a goal.
No, scratch that. I wanta goal I can dedicate.
Second period. We’re on the power play. I’m posted up at the left circle, stick primed. The puck slides across from Dylan. It’s a one-time shot. I don’t even think.
Back of the net.
The crowd erupts.
And I don’t hesitate.
I coast past the bench, stick down to scoop up the puck, then skate straight over to where Sophie’s sitting, ignoring the bench, ignoring Coach yelling something about line changes, ignoring the guys losing their minds behind me.
I lock eyes with her through the plexiglass. She gives me this look. Half daring, half annoyed. Like I’m beingsoextra. Good. I grin, kiss the puck, then toss it high over the glass. She snatches it like a pro. Doesn’t even flinch.
And I blow her a kiss. Deadpan. Slow. Two fingers, off the lips, like a bloody film star. There’s a beat where time goes slow, then Ollie, from behind me, yells, “SIMP!”
The whole bench loses it.
Coach is roaring something I pretend not to hear. The ref’s blowing his whistle to reset the face-off. I skate backwards like it’s nothing, like I didn’t just publicly soft-launch a fake relationship in the middle of a live game.
But I see her.
Clutching that puck, shaking her head like she can’t believe me, smiling in that way she does when she doesn’t want me to know she’s smiling. And suddenly, I don’t care if it was over the top.
Because I gotthatsmile.
Third period, and it’s a tied game.
Tensions are high. Dylan gets checked hard into the boards and Mia’s instantly on her feet, but he waves her off. Ollie’s scrapping with their winger as though he’s got something to prove. Even Jacko’s muttering threats under his breath, which is rare unless someone insultsBake Off.
But I’m calm. I’m riding the high ofherbeing here. I do stupid things when Sophie’s around. Show-off things. Stupidbravethings. Like try to toe-drag past two defenders and nearly get flattened. Or drop to my knees to block a shot when I’ve never blocked a shot in my life and probably won’t again.
