Page 33 of Racking Up Penalties
She leans closer, her gaze softening. “You know, Ethan, for a player, you’ve got a pretty decent heart hiding under that ego. When you let it out.”
“Keep that under wraps, would you?” I joke, but her words sink in deeper than I expected. There’s something about Tessa that unravels me, thread by thread. And as we finish our meal and head back to our game, I realize I’m okay with losing if it means more moments like these.
After six more strikes, I’m shocked.
“Okay, okay, maybe I underestimated you a bit,” I concede.
“Admitting defeat already?” Tessa teases, taking a sip of her beer, foam lingering on her upper lip. Without thinking, I reach out, thumb brushing it away. Her breath catches, and for a moment, the clamor around us fades into nothingness.
“Never,” I repeat, the word a gentle whisper now. We eat, drink, and continue our game; her skill consistently trumps my bravado. Yet, I can’t shake off the thrill of seeing her so animated, so alive. It’s contagious, and for the first time in a long while, I’m not thinking about hockey, my dad’s expectations, or the complexities of my life. I’m just here, with Tessa, lost in laughter and the simple joy of her company.
No one has been able to do that for me before.
She’s special and I think I’m finally just realizing how much.
“Looks like I’m buying drinks next time,” I say as we tally up the final score, a concession of defeat that feels strangely like a victory. Because tonight, despite the loss, I feel like I’ve won something far more valuable.
“Next time?” She asks.
I wink and press a kiss on her cheek. “Oh yeah, there will be a next time.”
The pins crash in the distance, a final echo of our playful rivalry, as I lace up my street shoes. I glance at Tessa, her hair a fiery cascade down her back, cheeks flushed with excitement from her victorious strikes. There’s something about the way she laughs, unbridled and free, that makes me want to capture this moment.
“Hey,” I start, clearing my throat as I stand, “how about we take a walk? There’s a park nearby, I think it has lights.”
It has lights? Did I really just say that?
I feel like I’ve lost all my skills the more time I spend with her.
She looks up, hazel eyes catching the neon glow from the overhead signs. Her smile doesn’t waver. “I’d love to.”
We step outside, the cool air a stark contrast to the warmth of the bowling alley, and head toward the park. Winter is coming quickly here. I know there’s already snow in the mountains that are a couple of hours away.
Tessa slips her hand into mine, and I feel every nerve end spark to life. Our fingers interlace, a silent acknowledgment of the connection that’s been building between us all evening.
Normally, at this point, I would be completely focused on sealing the deal with the girl. I’d take her back to her place, fuck her and then leave before she even falls asleep.
I never sleep with girls in my own bed. It’s a boundary I religiously stick to.
What terrifies me is that I don’t think I would leave after being with Tessa.
After sleeping with her I would have what I wanted and have pissed Liam off. There’s nothing left.
But I no longer think that’s true.
The fact that I can’t even proposition her because I’m afraid I’ll scare her away tells me all I need to know.
I like her.
“It’s beautiful here,” she murmurs, looking around at the twinkling fairy lights wrapped around tree trunks and strung across branches.
“Isn’t it?” I agree, though my gaze remains fixed on her. We walk in sync, a gentle rhythm that matches the beating of my heart. I’ve always kept my walls high, but with her, they seem to crumble without effort.
“Tell me something,” Tessa says, breaking the comfortable silence, “something I don’t know about Ethan Matthews.”
I hesitate, unsure why I’m considering divulging a truth I keep locked away. But then, I remember her openness, her genuine interest in me beyond the hockey jock facade. So I take the plunge.
“My dad,” I confess, my voice barely above a whisper, “he’s an asshole.” The words hang in the air, heavy and unwelcome, yet freeing. “He only cares if I go pro. It’s never been about what I want… just his expectations.”
