Page 52 of Power Play
There it is. Naked. Raw.
She doesn’t flinch. But she doesn’t speak right away either. Just looks at me, her expression unreadable for a moment.
Then she kisses me. “Okay,” she whispers. “Then be mine.”
And just like that, we’re no longer pretending.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
SOPHIE
It’s the first game since we stopped pretending.
And I feel it in every cell of my body. The buzz. The charge. The way my heart keeps stumbling over itself just thinking about seeing him in that kit, knowing now that every wink he throws, every smirk across the ice, every cocky little flourish; it’s all mine.
I’m early. Ludicrously early. I’ve been here ten minutes already and the doors only just opened for warm ups. The rink still smells of sweat mixed with adrenaline, the chill biting at my cheeks even under my thick scarf. I unwrap it slowly, nerves fluttering wildly in my chest. It’s ridiculous, I’ve been to a dozen of his games. Sat front row. Cheered with Mia. But this one? This one feels different. I’m not here as the fake girlfriend anymore.
I’m here as his.
The seat Murphy reserved for me is right next to the player’s bench, as close as he can get me. I’m practically in the game. I settle in and tug my coat tighter around me, scanning the rink while the arena fills. Mia waves from the other side of the plexiglass in the player’s enclosure, clipboard in hand, her hair in a braid, her focus half on the warmups and half on me. She mouths something at me, “You nervous?” and I nod, grinning.
“You look like you’re going to vibrate out of your skin,” she says when she comes over for a quick chat before puck drop. “He’s been a pain in the arse all afternoon. Pacing. Checking his gear six times. Smirking like he knows something I don’t.”
“He knows he’s going to score,” I say, tongue firmly in cheek, but the blush climbing my cheeks betrays me.
Mia raises an eyebrow. “Or he knows he’s got you watching.”
I shake my head, but I’m beaming. There’s no hiding it. “This is stupid. Why am I nervous?”
“Because it’s real now,” she says simply.
And God, she’s right.
The buzzer sounds. The crowd roars. The team storms the ice in a blur of black and silver and speed, and I rise to my feet with everyone else. And there he is.
Samuel Murphy. Murphy to the guys. Mine to the core.
Helmet on. Visor down. Shoulders broad and proud. He’s already grinning like a menace, chirping at someone on the other team as he glides past. He throws me a wink just before the faceoff, as though it’s a secret between us. Like he knows I can’t breathe for how much I love him right now.
The game is brutal. Fights break out barely five minutes in. Ollie gets slammed into the boards hard enough that the entire row flinches. I can hear Jacko shouting from the bench, see Dylan throw himself between two guys on a line change. It’s chaos. Raw and vicious and beautiful. I watch Murphy move like a storm, quick and lethal, skating circles around defenders, his jaw clenched, and eyes sharp. He’s always been good, but tonight, he’s something else.
The crowd is feral, chanting and yelling with every shot, every hit, every save. And still no goal. Not yet.
He comes off after a long shift and grabs his water bottle near where I’m sitting. I tap the glass. He looks over. For a second, the whole place fades away. It’s just him and me and the fog on the plexi.
He mouths, “Soon.” I smile. He’s right.
Third period. Five minutes left and still no goal for Murphy. My fingers are clenched on the edge of my seat, my knuckles turning white. Every time he hits the ice, I feel like I can’t breathe until he’s off again. A player from the other team clips him near the boards and I feel my stomach bottom out. He gets up slowly and shakes it off.
And then he takes the puck end to end.
Dodges one defender. Fakes out the goalie, and scores with a slapshot so clean it makes the entire arena erupt.
My scream gets swallowed in the roar of the crowd as I shoot to my feet. But Murphy doesn’t turn to the guys. He doesn’t throw himself into the glass. He skates right to me.
Right up to the plexiglass.
And in front of thousands of fans, he makes a heart shape with his hands. Then he blows me a kiss, and time freezes.
