Page 1 of Racking Up Penalties
Chapter 1
Last Spring
The roar of celebration hits me the moment I step into the room, the air crackling with elation like a live wire. I can’t help but be swept up in it, the joy infectious, spreading through my veins as I weave through clusters of jubilant hockey fans and university students. It’s as if the victory on the ice has thawed the last remnants of winter, ushering in an early spring to Eastwood University.
I catch glimpses of purple jerseys hugging, high-fiving, their faces flushed with the triumph that only comes from a hard-won game. It’s moments like these that remind me why I love being part of this campus, where every win is celebrated with passion, where every achievement feels like my own.
And then, like a lighthouse cutting through a foggy night, I spot him.
Liam stands across the crowded room, his lean frame relaxed against a wall, a plastic cup in hand. Even from here, I can see the way his tousled blond hair gives him that effortlessly cool look, like he’s just rolled out of bed looking like a cover model.
Without hesitation, my feet carry me toward him, drawn like a moth to a flame. I’ve barely met him at other parties but he always draws my attention.
“Hey, Tessa!” Emma calls out as I pass by, her arm looped around one of her boyfriends, Luka. I throw her a quick grin and a wave, my attention already refocusing on Liam.
My approach must be stealthier than I thought because it’s not until I’m almost upon him that his head turns, those gray eyes finding mine in the crowd. There’s no mistaking the flash of recognition, the subtle lift at the corners of his lips. It’s a look reserved just for me, or so I like to think.
“Hey,” I say, my voice barely rising above the din of conversation and laughter that fills the space. And yet, it’s enough. It always is with Liam.
Liam’s shoulders shift, angling toward me, his posture relaxed. The faintest trace of a cocky grin plays along his lips, that same grin that always manages to kick-start my pulse.
“Looks like someone’s popularity has hit an all-time high,” I tease, nodding towards the cluster of admirers he’s just vacated. “Should I be asking for an autograph?”
“That would be too good for my ego,” he shoots back, the flirtation in his voice as smooth as the ice he skates on.
“Careful, Johnson, or I’ll start believing you’re actually that charming.” I fold my arms, leaning back slightly, challenging him with my smirk.
“Believe it,” he says, stepping closer until the noise of the party dulls into a hum behind his words. “Besides, who else could have scored that winning goal with such style?” His brows arch in mock arrogance.
He’s usually pretty shy but tonight the adrenaline and alcohol must be making him bold.
“Pure luck,” I counter, nudging his side with my elbow. But there’s warmth in my voice, pride laced through the gentle ribbing. I’ve watched enough games to know Liam’s skill on the ice is anything but mere chance.
“Maybe just a little,” he concedes with a laugh, the sound rich and easy. It fills the space between us, wrapping around my heart like a promise of something tender and thrilling.
“You were great out there,” I praise, my laughter mingling with his.
“I wanted to impress you,” he admits, and there’s a twinkle in his eye that tells me he’s enjoying this as much as I am.
For a moment, the world falls away—the music, the chatter, the thrum of celebration—and it’s just Liam and me, trading barbs and grins like we’re the only two people here who matter. There’s comfort in our banter, a shared language that feels both exhilarating and terrifying because every word seems laced with possibility.
“How would you even know I was there?”
He leans in, and his breath is a warm tease against my ear. “Don’t think I didn’t see you cheering from the stands, Tessa. Your enthusiasm might have given me that extra edge.”
“Is that so?” I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face, reveling in our light-hearted dance of words. “I’ll have to charge you for my motivational services next season.”
“Consider it a deal,” he agrees, his eyes locked on mine.
“Look at you, you’re practically a local celebrity now,” I tease, letting the warmth of the moment wrap around me like a safety blanket. Liam’s laughter is a low rumble, an anchor in the cacophony of cheers and music that fills the air.
“Only because of that last-minute goal. But it was a team effort,” he deflects with a shrug, his lean muscles subtly flexing under his shirt. It’s classic Liam, always humble, always thinking of others before himself. “So, what are your plans this summer? Can I expect to see you around campus? Maybe we could go for dinner.”
My smile falters as I tuck a stray lock of red hair behind my ear, the weight of an upcoming absence settling into my words.
“Actually, I won’t be here over the summer.” My voice betrays me, a soft note of regret weaving through the confession. “I’ve got an internship with a fashion label in New York.”
Liam’s reaction is immediate, a flicker of something crossing his features—a blend of surprise and something else I can’t quite place. He recovers quickly, though, his smile returning like the sun after a brief eclipse.
