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Story: My Pucked Up Neighbor

Another pause. Then she says, "I was hard on you. But I just don’t want you to get hurt."

"I know," I whisper. "But I’m okay. And I want you there."

"Woohoo! Love you, Mandygirl."

"Love you too, Alli."

I hang up and stare at my phone for a second, heart fluttering. Then I practically launch myself into motion. I find my overnight bag. Thank god I did laundry and I start tossing in the essentials: comfy clothes, a decent outfit for the game/night out, my lucky hoodie, a sexy nighty, and way too many snacks. I triple-check that my phone charger is in there, then add a backup just in case.

I wasn’t expecting this. I thought I’d be watching the game from my couch, alone or with Kira, yelling at the TV and refreshing Twitter every five seconds. Now, I get to be there. With Grace and Haley. With my sister. And best of all, surpriseNate. The butterflies are real, and they’re throwing a party in my stomach.

I zip the bag and smile to myself. Game 7, here I come.

***

The knock comes at 7:45 AM. I open the door to Grace holding two coffees and Haley dramatically waving a hockey scarf.

"You'd better be ready, loser," Haley says with a grin. "We’re going to Columbus."

I laugh, already feeling lighter. Stacy pops up on FaceTime from her kitchen.

"Don’t forget your lucky bra," she teases.

"It’s Game 7, not a date! And who has a lucky bra?"

"I do." Stacy replies.

"I have lucky panties," says Haley.

"You're both crazy," Grace chuckles.

"With a smoke show defenseman like Nate, you're lucky your underwear didn't melt off the second he looked at you," she quips.

"Yeah, well, he is pretty hot, right?" I say. "All these guys are. It's like walking into a calendar shoot for 'Hockey Hunks Monthly.'"

They all burst into laughter.

"Save me a centerfold," Stacy snorts. "And tell Nate to behave himself—no scoring on or off the ice without your approval. Bye ladies. Have an awesome time and keep me in the loop."

"Bye," we say in unison.

The car’s barely out of the city limits before Grace hits play on her chaotic “Away Game Hype” playlist, which starts with a remix of Hollaback Girl and has Haley screaming, “YES. THIS IS MY JAM!” like we’ve just hit a dance floor instead of I-75.

“I feel like I should’ve stretched before this drive,” I joke from the backseat, wedged between two tote bags and a suspiciously large duffel labeled ‘Connor’s Emergency Game Snacks.’

“Stretch your core,” Grace shouts over the beat. “You’ll need it. We’ve got three hours of screaming, snacks, and absolutely no silence ahead.”

“I figured,” I grin, popping open a Diet Coke. “You two don’t seem like the audiobook type.”

“Excuse you,” Haley says, twisting around from the passenger seat. “I once tried to listen to a biography. Got five minutes in before Connor turned it off and made us listen to Eye of the Tiger on loop.”

“That’s his game day superstition, right?” Grace asks.

Haley groans. “Absolutely. He says it ‘activates the predator in his blood.’ Meanwhile, he brushes his teeth to Disney music. The duality of man.”

Grace cackles, tapping the steering wheel. “Parker sharpens Bessie’s pencils before home games. Says if her pencils are on point, his game will be too."

“I can’t tell if that’s adorable or terrifying,” I laugh.