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“Deal,” he says, holds out his hand.

I clasp it with my own, feeling the jolt of electricity running between our fingertips. Each touch is a commitment to something bigger than myself. Something I’m not sure I can control. Something I’m ready to run head first into. “Deal.”

Apparently a handshake isn’t enough for Axel Rakestraw. With our hands linked he pulls me against his chest and bends, his mouth covering mine, in a strong, sexy, kiss. When he pulls back he grins and says, “So where’s that T-shirt?”

Wittmore is downby one as the timer ticks down to the second intermission and I’m in my seat ignoring how hard my nipples feel in the cold arena without the added layer of a padded bra.

“It’ll be okay,” Twyler says, although I think she’s talking more to herself than to me. “They’ll pull it together.”

They guys are playing awful. Even with my limited understanding of the game, it’s pretty obvious something’s off. “I’m sure Coach Bryant will light a fire under their asses during the break.”

“You see that?” she says, pointing down to Reese on the ice. He’s skating around the goal, just having missed another shot.

I narrow my eyes at the number fifteen jersey. “See what?”

“His shoulder. See how he’s rolling it back?”

All I see is a blur of black and gold badger uniforms smacking a puck around the ice.

“I think Reese’s shoulder is bothering him. He keeps stopping short when he takes a shot.” She worries her bottom lip. “I should go down there and check.”

“Twy, you’re not his trainer any more. I’m sure Coach Green can handle it.”

“I may not be his official trainer, but I know his body better than anyone.”

I snort. “I don’t think having an intimate knowledge of his penis counts.”

“That’s not what I mean.” She glares at me. “Reese is stubborn. He probably won’t even say anything and just suffer through it–which will only make it worse.” She swears quietly. “God, he’s an idiot. I never should have switched internships.”

Down on the ice Axel and the forward from the opposing team start shouting. A stick clatters against the ice and Axel lunges out of the crease.

“Oh fuck,” I mutter, watching with wide eyes. Whistles screech, and a referee darts between the two players, pushing them apart.

Thank god the buzzer sounds, ending the period.

“Axel seems pretty agitated,” I say, as Reid corrals him, urging him off the ice. He yanks off his helmet, revealing sweat soaked hair. “I know he’s pissed he let in that goal.”

“Well, Rodgers needs to stop buzzing around the crease.” Rodgers, the power forward for Eastern, seems to be particularly focused on messing with him. “It’s not illegal, but it’s obnoxious as hell, and he’s obviously trying to get Ax to do something stupid.”

I don’t know what Axel is like after a loss. Being undefeated is an amazing accomplishment, but it also adds another layer of pressure for these guys and everyone around them. Although I’ve never had this level of investment before–publicly dating a player– I do know what it’s like to be around an athlete after a bad game. That’s part of the role of a jersey chaser. You’re there for the wins and losses. Some guys are angry. Others depressed. Most get wasted, drowning their sorrows, or getting high. Others like Brent and CJ put on a brave face for the crowds and then come back home and release their tensions in private. I learned quick how to navigate their emotions–how best to support them–which in hindsight, was just me putting myself in another risky situation.

I have no idea how Axel will act after losing and I’m a little scared to find out.

“I’m going down there.” Twyler stands abruptly, grabbing her bag.

“What?” I ask, standing with her. “You can’t do that.”

“You think they won’t let me in?” she’s already working her way down the aisle. I follow, trying not to step on anyone’s feet. “To fix their star player? They’re not that stupid.”

I’m not sure why I keep following her, probably because I assume this is going to end up a disaster. While she walks she unzips her bag, digging out a lanyard and slinging the ID badge over her neck. She starts toward the stairs that lead down to the locker rooms and I grab her arm. “Wait.”

“I’ve only got a few minutes before intermission is over, Nad.”

“What if it’s me,” I blurt.

She frowns.

“What if I’m the reason they’re losing? I’m the new thing. The variation. My presence, my relationship with Axel could be what’s fucking up everyone’s mojo.” I swallow. “What if he regrets asking me to come.”