Page 30 of Face Off
Jonno blows his whistle. “Back to drills. Eyes on the prize, boys.”
The next two hours are a blur of sprints, drills, and crashes into the boards. My hip nags, subtle but insistent, but I hide it behind a grin, a sharp check, a perfectly-timed shove into Dylan’s shoulder, because I can’t let weakness show. I catch glimpses of Murphy glancing my way, probably teasing me mentally about my pacing, but he doesn’t say anything. Dylan doesn’t break his brooding, and Jacko just catalogues everything with quiet precision.
And then it’s over.
The guys begin peeling off skates, tossing helmets, laughing, joking. Murphy’s back to his old self, teasing Jacko about lastnight’s protein bar disaster, Dylan’s scowl softens in the corner as Mia tugs at his arm, Jacko’s baking efforts earn a quiet nod from everyone, and I’m trying not to think about Chloe.
Not easy when my phone buzzes.
Chloe: Hope your drills were productive. Coffee? Might need to debrief.
I bite back a laugh and a groan simultaneously. Professionalism, Ollie. Don’t blow it.
Ollie: Maybe. Later.
By evening, the pub is alive with the usual chaos. Raucous laughter, clinking glasses, the smell of fries and beer, the warmth of team camaraderie. Murphy’s in full form, animatedly recounting some ridiculous story about Sophie and Finn, Jacko is calm but clearly entertained, Dylan and Mia share glances, and Lila is sitting cross-legged on the bench between the tables, holding Finn like a tiny, adored trophy. She’s babbling at him, gesturing wildly, making sure everyone knows she’s in charge.
I sip my pint, trying to settle, when my eyes catch movement by the doorway.
Chloe.
She’s slipped in quietly, scanning the room, notebook tucked under her arm. My pulse quickens. She’s here. She could see me. She could…what? Join us? Probably not. She doesn’t belong in this world, not yet, not while I’m trying to protect her from the team’s judging banter.
She hesitates, then ducks back out before I can do anything. I swallow hard, eyes narrowing. Damn it. I can’t just let her leave. Not when she’s right there.
I set my glass down, standing abruptly. “Excuse me,” I mutter, threading through the chaos of tables, careful to keepit casual, not drawing attention. Murphy notices and raises a brow, Dylan smirks knowingly, but Jacko just shakes his head, muttering something about me being hopeless.
I step outside just in time to catch Chloe at the corner, her coat wrapped tight around her, hair catching the pub lights.
“You really can’t stay away, can you?” I call, grinning.
She rolls her eyes, though the corner of her mouth twitches. “And you can’t leave well enough alone, Taylor.”
“I could, if you want me to,” I tease, stepping closer. “I can walk you home, keep you safe from rogue hockey fans and impatient teammates.”
Her laugh is soft, almost melodic, and she shakes her head. “Don’t be silly. I can manage.”
“I insist,” I reply, voice low, playful. “Or we could just disappear together. Avoid Murphy’s lectures, Dylan’s broody stares, Jacko’s passive-aggressive judging…”
She raises a brow, smirk tugging at her lips. “Sounds tempting…for you maybe, not me. I’m fine, really.”
I groan dramatically. “Fine? You? Never. You’ve got this irresistible streak of chaos I can’t ignore. And right now, it’s driving me insane that you’re out here pretending you’re untouchable.”
Her eyes flash, amused and wary. “You’ve got some nerve, Taylor.”
“And you like it,” I counter, voice teasing, warm. “Admit it.”
She shakes her head, but her lips twitch. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re perfect at making me feel like an idiot,” I say, stepping a fraction closer, my hand brushing against the sleeve of her coat.
Her eyes widen, breath catching in the cold air, and for a split second, the world narrows down to the two of us.
I reach out, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face, thumb ghosting her cheek. The air between us sizzles, thick with tension and all the words we haven’t said.
“You’re reckless,” she whispers.
“And you’re irresistible,” I reply, low, teasing, dangerous.
