Page 41 of Script
I’ll show them.
And, according to him, hockey players tapped the ice to indicate that they were available, but most of the time, it was up to the passing player to go with instinct and know where other team members were.
They didn’t ask in any sort of polite way; in fact another option was to get in each other’s faces and demand that a teammate-- in Cam’s words-- pass the fucking puck!
And yes, I was now calling him Cam.
My Cam.Although he didn’t know that yet.
My character became more like him with every skate, and every game film we watched, and I only grew to admire Cam more each moment we were together. He wasn’t captain of the Storm, that was Charlie with the big house, but Cameron was a leader on the team, and it was clear he was damn good at his job.
When he asked to talk after our latest practice-- one in which I’d skated the entire rink in reverse-- I never even thought it would be bad news.
“My brother’s fiancée is having a dinner party this weekend for wedding stuff, and I have to attend so…” He hesitated, and I waited for him to ask me to go with him. He didn’t. “We’ll have to take a few days off from training.”
Nothing. No invite. No introduction to his family.Damn it.
“Oh, hey that’s fine.” I said, using my best it’s-all-cool tone. “You should for sure be with your family for that. I can keep working on my short stops. Spraying ice and all that. Looks great on camera.” I knocked his arm, all buddy-buddy, and he smiled at me.
“It won’t be for long,” he apologized, “sorry to break up the training, but y’know, family is everything.”
I smiled even harder. “I can manage. One more practice, and then, go be with family.”
Take me with you.
Chapter14
Cameron
The next day’straining was all over the place.
For me.
Finn was finding his stride with each session, and I was proud of his dedication to his craft. He’d worked hard to hone himself into a passable hockey player. Would he ever make the pros? Absolutely not. Was he good enough to play a pro on the silver screen? For sure. Feeling at a loss about taking Cam time—which was stupid because good mental health dictated having me time as well as we time—I had instituted a reward system for Finn.
Today, and today only… that was a lie because I planned to carry on with this reward system for as long as I could… every time he aced a move, he got a kiss.
There was no one here who would see. The lone security guys, Jed, and Todd, didn’t bother with us at all. I wasn’t sure if that was something that Atlas had set up or if Finn had asked for total privacy, but it worked for me.
Finn was glowing with pride after socking a puck into the net, a high shot over my rather weak glove hand—Philippe, I was not—and skated into my crease wearing a comically large pucker. I gave him a playful shove away from the blue paint, then fished out the puck with the goalie paddle I’d borrowed from the storage room.
“Leave my crease before I am made to come unhinged on your face,” I snarled in my best Phillippe imitation.
Finn gaped, his face falling into a mournful expression that could win him an Oscar. “My heart… is broken,” he gasped, clutching at his chest, then falling into my arms.
I grabbed, then held him up, no small feat as he was a big man, and shook free from my catcher.
Finn fell back over my arm in true movie starlet faux faint form, his long lashes fluttering as his body went limp. Down to the ice we went, him on top, which I was learning, was a position the manreallyliked, and laid in the net facing each other.
“You’re a damn fool,” I chuckled while he pushed up to sit on my well-padded groin. He removed my borrowed mask from my head, all playfulness gone as his gaze burst into flame. He took off his helmet and flung it over his shoulder. I vaguely heard it hit the boards.
“I’m a fool for you, Cam,” he whispered, then spread himself over me and captured my mouth in a kiss that stole every rational thought I possessed. The temperature in the crease rose by about fifty degrees. How we weren’t lying in a puddle was beyond me. I threaded a hand into his hair, loving the dampness of his exertion in the thick gold mass of curls. We were both so padded up that any kind of sensation was minimal, but jeez, I was aroused when the kiss ended. Getting a boner while wearing a couple of cups was not comfortable in the least.
“I’m going to miss this,” I confessed, massaging his scalp just behind his ear. “I don’t get to make out with someone during most of my practices with the team. Coach frowns on frottage on the ice.” He smiled down at me, a lonely, soft smile that made me regret setting up this break. “I’m coming back. You know that right?”
“I know.” He wanted to say more it seemed, but he didn’t. Instead, he stole a fast kiss, pushed to his feet, and offered me his hand. Up I went as if I weighed nothing. We stood there in front of the net, both of us chewing on something, but neither daring to express whatever it was we were feeling. “Let’s get a little more work in before you have to catch your flight home.”
I nodded, picked up Phillippe’s old mask, and pulled it down over my head.
