Lily

“ C ome on, Lily! It’ll be fun!” Stella encourages.

“Since when do you like to go to the games? We’ve never gone before.” I really don’t want to go on the off chance that I’ll see him .

“I go all the time. It’s just you that’s never been with me. The games are fun! I promise.”

“But I couldn’t care less about hockey. Why can’t one of your sorority-girlfriends go with you? What about Kelli or Amber?” I suddenly remember I never found out what happened with Kelli and Stella. Our conversation got sidetracked at the restaurant when Luka and his friends crashed our dinner.

“No one can come tonight, and I don’t want to go by myself. Please , Lily. Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

I groan. “Are you sure you have to go? It’s just a preseason game.”

Stella raises her eyebrows in question and throws her hand up in frustration.

I groan again because I already know the answer to my question. Of course, she has to go. It’s her brother, who she loves and wants to support.

I struggle not to groan yet a third time. “ Fine . Give me ten to get changed, but I’m not sure if I can stay for the whole game. I have a big test to get ready for.”

Stella hops up and down, clapping her hands together twice before looking at her phone. “Yay! Now, hurry your cute little booty up because we’ll be late if we don’t get a move on it. ”

I sigh as I turn and hurry down the short hallway to my bedroom. The last thing I want to do tonight is risk the chance of seeing Luka, but I can’t say no to my best friend when she asks so nicely.

Stella still hasn’t asked me what was up at the restaurant the other night with Luka and me. I’m thankful for that, but I’m also wary of it. I know my best friend. There’s no way she won’t bring it up at some point, and she’ll probably wait to ask when I least expect it just to catch me off guard and unprepared. She’s sneaky like that.

I quickly change into a bralette, an oversized comfy t-shirt that falls off the shoulder, and blue jeans that make my butt look phenomenal. Every girl needs a pair of jeans that makes her tummy look flat and her butt look plump. It’s a must-have.

While I have college-branded hats and hoodies, I don’t have any hockey shirts or hats to wear like Stella. However, it makes sense that she does, and I don’t . She has on a Kings of Hart U hockey jersey that’s pinned in all the right places to show her figure and sexy black leggings with furry boots. Which reminds me that I should grab a jacket because the rink will be cold—as cold as hell must be right now as it freezes over since I never go to these things.

I stop to look in the mirror on top of my dresser and realize my hair is one step away from a rat’s nest, and I look tired . My eyes are puffy with dark circles running underneath them.

I can’t go out looking like this .

I grab my brush and try to tame my hair, but I quickly realize it isn’t going to work. My next attempt is to grab a hair tie, pull it up into a messy bun, and grab my college-branded Hart U hat that I always wear. It isn’t a Kings of Hockey hat, but it will have to do.

I swipe on some lip gloss, CC cream, blush, and mascara. I step back from the mirror. The CC cream helps hide the dark circles, and so does the hat. Again, it will have to do.

I haven’t slept well since the other night. I can’t seem to get the new images and feelings from the dream out of my head. It’s partly because I’m scared to fall asleep. What if there are more details in my dream? If Grandma May is correct, and my dream is progressing, that means I’m drawing closer to my death.

I don’t have answers, and I’m worried I won’t be able to figure it out in time to stop it. My anxiety has been through the roof. I think I still have time because, even though I felt things in my dream that I’ve never felt before, I still don’t know how I die.

I just have this intense sensation of falling, a fierce pressure on my chest, and then I can’t breathe. It’s the scariest feeling in the world not to know what’s happening while simultaneously knowing that whatever it is ends with you six feet under.

Shaking off the anxiety building from just thinking about the dream, I focus on getting ready. I throw on some hoop earrings, my favorite watch that Grandma May gave me, and my favorite black cargo jacket.

I won’t lie and say I’m not nervous about tonight. Things have been weird between Luka and me ever since he did a one-eighty on me. He went from being so sweet and almost flirty to cold with one or two-word answers. Our tutoring sessions have been awkward ever since.

The craziest part is that I still don’t understand what changed. He hasn’t said anything to help me understand, and he hasn’t apologized for his actions.

Part of me wants to not care, but unfortunately, it’s impossible for me not to care because of how my body reacts every time I’m near him. My heart leaps, my pulse quickens, and my stomach flutters. It’s like every cell in my body becomes hyperaware of his proximity.

There’s a good chance that I won’t have to interact with him tonight, anyway. I let that thought supersede any other worries I have about seeing him. He’ll be too busy to pay me any attention, and I already have my backup plan to say I need to leave early if I feel like I need it.

“Lily! Come on, or we’ll miss the start of the game!” Stella yells from the living room.

I take one more glance in the mirror. Satisfied with how I look, I grab my purse off my bed and head out to meet Stella.

How have I never watched a hockey game before? I can’t believe what I’ve been missing all these years. It’s exhilarating. The boys move around the ice with such precision that it’s mesmerizing, especially my tutee.

Luka is magnificent. He’s a sight to behold, and I’m not exaggerating. His body moves instinctively and with an almost cat-like agility. It’s fascinating, and I hate to admit it, but it’s freaking hot.

I also didn’t realize how freaking violent hockey is. We’re twenty minutes into the game, and there have already been three fights and multiple players sent to the penalty box, but I think that’s a big part of the appeal of the game. Kind of like watching racing for the crashes. People enjoy the spectacle—even if it is a little weird to find entertainment in someone else’s pain.

Then again, how is that any different from any other violent sport?

It makes it riskier and more exciting. I never in a million years would think that I’d find enjoyment from a bunch of guys practically beating each other up and shooting around a puck in an ice rink.

Grandma May is going to get a kick out of this when I tell her.

“What do you think?” Stella asks as she elbows me gently in my arm to get my attention.

I close my mouth and turn to look at her, wide eyed. “It’s fascinating,” I say in amazement. I’m instantly in love with the game, and it has nothing to do with player twenty-two, who happens to have the most beautifully intense gray eyes.

She raises her left eyebrow with a huge smile on her face. “Fascinating, huh?”

I nod as I turn back to the action. Hart is playing well, I think. They’re up by two points and have been dominating the rink since the first puck dropped.

Stella leans in so I can hear her. “I think they’re gearing up for an Umbrella play. See how they’re spreading out into a formation with four points towards the center ice and two down by the goalie? ”

I nod as I watch the formation she just described unfold. Luka skates down by the goalie as his other teammates form the other five points.

She continues. “It’s a play to move the puck across the ice as quickly as they can, drawing the goalie to one side, leaving the other unprotected. It’s one of Luka’s favorite plays.”

I sit on the edge of my seat as I watch them shoot the puck from one player to the next, working its way to Luka. Before I know what’s happening, the hockey goal horn sounds, and Stella shoots to her feet, cheering.

I stand with her, hooting and hollering in celebration. We scream as loud as we can, cheering on the guys. The other team calls a time-out, which I assume is an attempt to regroup from their butt-whooping.

Pierce, number fourteen, skates past us in the stands. I don’t know who any of the players are except Luka. I’ve met Nash and Rowan, and maybe a few of the other guys in passing, but I don’t know their last names.

Number fourteen turns back toward us and stops at the board right in front of our seats. Of course, we’re sitting near the ice because Stella wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s hard to argue when she says, “How the hell am I supposed to see my brother play from the nosebleed section?”

We’re sitting two rows back from the rink. Fortunately, I talked her out of sitting right behind the player’s bench. That would have been awkward, and I’m not sure Luka would be happy to see me.

The guy with the name Pierce on the back of his jersey pushes his helmet back, exposing his face. It’s Rowan . His smile grows bigger as his gaze swings from me to Stella.

“You ladies enjoying the game?” he shouts over the noise in the ice rink.

We’re close enough to make out what he says, but we have to really concentrate.

I nod enthusiastically, and Stella laughs at the gesture. “She is for sure.” She juts her thumb in my direction.

Rowan smiles, his gaze finally leaving Stella to land on me again. “What do you say we go out after the game?” He looks at me when asking, which is weird because I thought he likes Stella, and his question feels an awful lot like he’s asking me out .

I shift my weight from side to side as I try to come up with an answer that redirects his attention back to my friend.

“I can’t, but maybe Stella’s up for it?” I turn toward her, widening my eyes as I silently ask for help.

She seems unbothered as she answers. “ Maybe —if better plans don’t come up.”

Stella brushes him off with so much ease and confidence that I’m kind of in awe. Why can’t I brush Luka off like that? Like I couldn’t care less, and I have a million other suitors to choose from?

Stella is badass.

Part of the answer to that question has to do with my dream. I’m innately drawn to him because of it. I know that’s a fact. There’s no way that I couldn’t feel a connection with him after dreaming about him for years. But he doesn’t know any of that, which makes this whole thing that much more complicated.

I’ve wondered if the nervous anticipation I have thinking about him or the butterflies I get when he’s near have more to do with a connection built purely from my dream versus me having actual feelings for him.

Those are two very different things, and I haven’t figured the answer out yet.

Rowan’s smile is cocky when he looks to his right and then back at us. “See you two later.”

My eyes follow where Rowan’s gaze landed, and I’m shocked to find one pissed-off looking Luka. Even when he’s that angry, he’s still the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. There’s no happiness directed our way, only a glare so potent my body breaks out into goosebumps everywhere.

I swallow thickly as we make eye contact. His gaze is intense and broody, his gray eyes piercing through the thin layer of armor I try to put up. He continues to stare as a horn blows and his teammates go to their starting positions.

He doesn’t move. His eyes don’t leave me, but he makes no move toward us. He stands there with his helmet pushed back, one glove on, and the other hand bare. His grip is so tight on his stick that I’m afraid he might break it.

I’m pulled into his intense stare, unable to break whatever trance he’s put me in. My heart flutters in my chest, and my body shivers from the goosebumps that now cover most of my body. The craziest part is that whatever the heck this is, I don’t want it to end.

My body feels alive. The sounds from the rink dim to a low hum. I can only hear soft murmurs from the crowd and my heavy breathing. It almost feels like we’re in our own little bubble of time and space. I’m hyperaware of one man—a man who looks like he’s ready to strangle me or kiss me to death. I’m not sure which.

Like a rubber band snapping against your wrist or a minor pinch to wake your senses, I’m thrust back into reality. Just as suddenly as Luka’s intense stare entrapped me, I find the spell broken.

Luka’s eyes leave me, and the sounds of the arena rush in again, loud and intrusive. His teammates shouting for him to join them reaches my ears.

Flipping his helmet down over his face, he then puts on the one glove he was missing. Then, just like nothing ever happened, he turns and skates towards the center of the ice rink.

My breath whooshes out of me. I almost feel light-headed, like I ran a marathon, and now my adrenaline is crashing from the high.

“What the hell was that?” Stella asks just as the same question zips through my mind.

Good question. Good freaking question.