Page 19 of Racking Up Penalties
“Where are you going?” Brian’s voice calls out just as I step out of my room.
Brian, another player on the football team, was assigned as one of my roommates when I came here and we clicked instantly.
“Helping Tessa with a fashion thing,” I say.
I’ve already told Brian all about Tessa. The first time we went out and I ignored all the girls, I explained that my heart belongs to her.
“Good luck Delaney!”
I head out to spend time with the world’s most perfect girl.
Chapter 10
The chill of the arena hits me the moment I step through the doors, a stark contrast to the buzzing warmth that radiates from my chest. I came armed today with garment bags.
“Need a hand with those?” Tristan’s voice cuts through my swirling thoughts, grounding me back to the task at hand.
“Would love one, thanks,” I reply, flashing him a grateful smile. With his sandy-brown hair catching the light from the overhead fluorescents, he looks like some sort of guardian angel in a university hoodie. He grabs most of the heavy load without hesitation, his deep blue eyes meeting mine in silent encouragement.
As we unload the outfits I meticulously curated from the fashion department, a collection of edgy athletic wear designed to make the hockey team look irresistible—I can’t help but notice the ease with which Tristan supports me. It’s in the way he handles each garment bag with care, as if he understands how much it means to me.
“Looks like you’ve got everything covered,” Tristan remarks, nodding approvingly at the rack of clothes. “I have to say, your eye for style never ceases to amaze.”
“Thanks,” I mumble, feeling heat creep up my neck. “I just hope the guys are easy to work with.” The thought sends a fresh wave of nerves spiraling through me. Dressing a bunch of college athletes is no small feat.
“You’ll do great, Tessa. They’re lucky to have someone with your talent behind the scenes.” His confidence in me feels like a warm blanket, soothing away the cold fingers of doubt.
“Still,” I sigh, straightening a jacket on a hanger, “it’s not just about the clothes. It’s about capturing the… essence of the team, y’know?”
Tristan nods, his gaze softening. “And no one’s better at seeing the true essence of people than you.” There’s something protective in his stance, a subtle promise that he’s here, not just to lug around clothes, but to offer moral support.
“Okay, enough pep talk. Let’s get this show on the road!” I announce with a renewed sense of determination, rolling my shoulders back and gearing up for the day ahead. The scent of fresh ice and anticipation lingers in the air.
“Let’s do this,” Tristan echoes, a hint of pride in his voice that makes the corners of my lips tilt upwards.
I run into Audrey, Emma and I’s friend, setting up her camera. Her brother, Miles, is on the team so he must have set her up with a job too. She smiles and waves, giving me a thumbs up before going back to her camera.
The crisp echo of skate blades against ice fades as I usher Luka, JD, and Alec into the makeshift styling zone. They’re a burst of energy, tossing jokes across the room like a well-played puck, their laughter infectious.
“You guys will have to get copies of these pictures for Emma,” I tease JD, adjusting the collar of his shirt just so. I picked an emerald shirt to really compliment his tawny skin.
We share a laugh while I ensure every element of his outfit is photo-ready.
“Thanks, Tessa,” Luka chimes in with his Swedish accent, his broad shoulders filling out the tailored jacket I selected perfectly. The fabric stretches slightly over his muscles, hinting at the strength beneath. “You’re doing great.”
I step back to admire my work. They look sharp, the essence of their team spirit captured in the casual drape of a scarf, the snug fit of a blazer.
“Go knock ‘em dead, boys.”
With a chorus of thanks and last-minute fist bumps, they swagger off, leaving me alone for a breath of a moment. It’s enough time to wipe my palms on my jeans, to steady the flutter in my chest. Then I feel him before I see him, the air shifting subtly as Liam steps up.
“Hey, Tessa,” he greets me quietly, a stark contrast to his teammates’ exuberance. His lean form is relaxed yet somehow hesitant like he’s holding back a part of himself.
“Hi, Liam,” I manage, my heart tripping over itself. My hands are suddenly clumsy as I reach for the clothes I’ve prepped for him—a sleek, dark ensemble that will make those gray eyes of his stand out even more. “Ready?”
“Sure,” he says, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. He lets his gaze linger a little too long, just enough to send a warm shiver down my spine.
I focus on the task, smoothing down the front of his shirt, my fingertips brushing against fabric and skin. Liam’s warmth seeps through the thin material, steadying and unnerving all at once.
