Page 25 of Power Play
We win. Barely. The final score is 4–3. I’ve got a goal, an assist, and a red mark on my ribs the size of a small country.
As I come off the ice, sweat dripping, gear clinging, Sophie’s still there. Still front row. Still holding that puck like she hasn’t decided whether to treasure it or throw it at my head. I give her a wink and she rolls her eyes but doesn’t look away.
Back in the locker room, the guys are loud and soaked in sweat and satisfaction. The music’s turned up loud. Someone’s cracked open the recovery drinks, and Ollie’s already replayinghisalmost-goal as if it was the game-winner.
Murphy: 1
Everyone else: Bitter.
“Alright, Romeo,” Dylan says, shoving past me toward his locker. “You’re lucky you scored, or Coach would’ve benched you for that little love letter stunt.”
“It wasn’t a stunt,” I say casually. “It was amoment.”
Ollie howls. “A moment he’s going to make into a TikTok montage, guaranteed.”
“Bet he already picked a song,” Jacko adds. “Something emotional. Maybe Ed Sheeran.”
“Shut your faces,” I say, grinning. Truth is, I don’t even knowwhyI did it. It just felt right. Like for once, I didn’t want to hide behind the fake part.
I wanted her to see. To know. Even if it scares the hell out of me.
When I leave the locker room later, she’s outside in the hallway, waiting. Arms crossed. Puck still in her hand. “You,” she says.
Me, leaning casually against the wall, towel slung around my neck. “Me.”
“You threw me a puck.”
“I did.”
“And blew me a kiss. In front of thousands of people.”
“Also true.”
“Your coach nearly had a stroke.”
“Worth it.”
She narrows her eyes. “You trying to get us trending again?”
I shrug. “Maybe I just wanted to see you smile.”
She falters. Just for a second. Then rolls her eyes and tosses the puck back at me. I catch it. “Don’t get used to the soft treatment, Romeo.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Juliet.”
We stare at each other. It’s different now. Heavier somehow. Like there’s something thick between us we keep pretending isn’t there.
Fake relationship.
Fake.
But that look on her face when I scored? That wasn’t fake. And this ache in my chest when she walks away?
Not fake either.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SOPHIE
