Page 52 of Like a Power Play (Greenrock University: Icebound #1)

A small hand cuts in between Darcy’s face and my own, forcing us apart, and Coach immediately begins shaking her head. “Uh-uh. There will be no betting, ” she says.

Darcy frowns, jaw tightening as she pulls back.

Coach continues. “I’m serious. If I find out you guys put stakes on this, any kind of stakes , I’ll have you both scrub the men’s locker room showers.” She pauses. “And put you on equipment cleaning with Kaiser.”

I stop, watching Darcy's shoulders tense. I want to press. To push. To piss Darcy off because it seems like that’s what entices her to kiss me. But upsetting Coach in the process isn’t a good idea.

“Fine.” I surrender. “No bet.”

“What about a game?” Darcy asks, almost desperately, her gaze flitting between Coach and me.

Her prerogative is simple: win, by any means necessary.

I’ve come to realize that winning is Darcy's ultimate game. Winning at making me want her, winning at being right on the ice, and now, winning at this.

I think it’s time she learns how to lose.

Coach tilts her head back, letting out a dramatic groan. “Oh my god,” she says, taking another drawn-out sip of her beer. Darcy and I lock eyes, and I bite back a grin. “Whatever. Just please, leave me out of it.”

That freckled smile breaks across Darcy’s face, and it makes everything in me flutter.

“What’s the game?” I ask, folding my arms.

She grins. “Well, we don’t have practice until Monday, so… Sabertooths score, I take a shot. Porcupines score, you take a shot.”

I pause, considering as Coach pipes in.

“You really want to go down that road?” she asks, eyeing us both.

My eyes catch Darcy’s before turning back to Coach, nodding and replying in unison: “Yes.”

Her stare goes blank, and she lets out a heavy sigh, looking back at the screen without another word.

I lean in toward Darcy again. “What about blocks? Penalties?”

She shakes her head. “Just scores, Cap.”

I study her for a moment and then nod. “Fine. Just scores.”

“ I s she always this much of a lightweight?” Coach asks, watching Darcy lean forward, blocking half the screen with her giant head as she yells, “Oh, c’mon! That’s not a penalty! What, are you blind?!”

Bailey reaches out and gently pulls her back into her seat.

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “She’s your kid.”

Coach sighs, glancing at the screen. Her brows furrow. “She’s only had two shots and she’s already… like this? ” She gestures vaguely at Darcy, who’s now throwing her hands up in disbelief as a Porcupines player gets sent to the penalty box with only a minute left on the clock.

“Does it run in the family?” I ask, grinning.

Coach shoots me a look that could salt the Earth. “Watch it, Clarke.”

I laugh sheepishly. “Kidding.”

The Sabertooths’ center, Vivienne Kyro, lands a perfect icing shot into the net, and I cheer along with Harlowe, Bailey, Indie, and Lena. Everyone else groans dramatically. Darcy just turns toward me and taps the table like a flaming furious tyrant.

“Sure you wanna take it?” I ask, raising a brow. “There’s only a minute left in the game. I’ll let it slide.”

Darcy narrows her eyes and jabs a finger at me. “Are you calling me a quitter?”

I can’t help myself. I bring her a shot.

I love watching the way her face scrunches when she takes them. Her nose wrinkles and she makes this disgusted little “blech” sound before chasing it with a lactose-free peanut butter milkshake. A combination that’s deeply concerning, and kind of adorable.

“How’s that hill treatin’ ya?” I ask, stealing a sip of her shake. She doesn’t even flinch, just slumps deeper into her chair, arms crossed in surrender.

“That ref’s blind, I swear,” she mutters, inching forward like she can will the game to bend to her rage. I pat her on the back.

“You’re gonna microwave your brain,” I say, reaching under her chair and dragging it back toward me. The legs screech against the tile, and her body sways with it, but she doesn’t resist.

That’s when I notice it, that subtle shift again.

The slight tensing in her shoulders. That faint crease in her brow returning.

It makes my stomach sink and twist. Makes me want to trade places with her, so that she doesn’t have to hurt anymore.

I would live every day of my life in pain if it meant Darcy didn’t have to.

Coach stands, pulling her purse over her shoulder. Her eyes land on Darcy and soften.

“I think she’s probably tired,” she says, voice gentle.

“I don’t want to go home yet,” Darcy replies quickly, shaking her head like even the implication of exhaustion is offensive.

Coach’s brows lift, her gaze snapping to mine, tinted with worry. I wave a hand.

“I’ve got her,” I say. “Don’t worry.”

She studies me for a long second, probably running through every argument Darcy and I have ever had. Every reason she shouldn’t leave her daughter alone with me. But when she looks at Darcy again, casually sipping her milkshake, scrolling her phone, Coach exhales.

“You’ll take care of her?” she asks, looking back at me. There’s something in her expression I can’t quite place. Something between a warning and a thank you.

“Coach,” I say, catching her eye. “I won’t let her out of my sight.”

She watches Darcy for another beat, then gives me one last look. One that seems to say I’m trusting you, don’t make me regret it.

“Alright,” she says. “But watch her , Clarke. Or I’ll have your ass.”

I nod. “I haven’t had a sip of alcohol, and besides, she’ll probably be begging to leave in thirty minutes.”

Darcy shoots me a piercing look. “No, I won’t!”

Coach leans in, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Love you. Call me when you get home.”

Darcy beams, big and goofy. “Okay Mom. Love you.”

Coach turns to leave, the rest of the team trickling out behind her, still exhausted from the game.

Harlowe and Bailey whisper to one another, casting me matching glances as they step out the door.

Honestly, I could pass out right here in this booth, but if Darcy wants to stay, we’re staying.

Just before Coach hits the door, she spins around.

“Clarke?” she calls. My head snaps up.

“Yes, Coach?”

A subtle smile pulls at her mouth. “Thank you,” she says. Then she’s gone.

I glance back at Darcy, making good on my promise. She’s still glued to her phone, thumbs flying across the screen. I peek shamelessly. She’s texting Cleo.

“So, tough loss, huh?” I tease, and she just scowls.

“Do you actually think you’re funny?”

“Of course.” I grin. “But really, I just like making you mad. You’re really cute when you’re angry.”

A faint blush creeps into her cheeks as she tries to hold back a smile. “Whatever, Icarus. You’re obnoxious.”

“And an amazingly good kisser."

The blush deepens. She scoffs, crossing her arms like a shield. “Whatever you’re trying to pull, it isn’t going to happen again,” she says firmly.

I can’t help it. I smirk. “Well obviously. You’re drunk. But you weren’t when you kissed me like you wanted it to.”

“I—” She falters. Opens her mouth. Closes it. Repeats. Finally, she blows out a frustrated breath. “You know what? I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

I watch her nose scrunch in frustration. “No,” I say. “You absolutely don’t.”

She just bobs her head triumphantly, tipsily unaware of the thoughts running through my head. If she weren’t drunk, if I hadn’t agreed to that stupid game, perhaps we’d be back in the bathroom right now, her hands in my hair, my face between her thighs.

“What?” She frowns.

Oh, just thinking about eating you out until your legs collapse .

I shake my head. “Nothing.”

She’s about to protest, her forehead wrinkling, eyes narrowing, but just as her lips part to speak, music floods the overhead speakers.

It’s a familiar sound, light percussion, a bouncing beat.

“Oh, Pretty Woman” fills the air, and before I can blink, Darcy starts to move.

Her shoulders sway first, then her hips, and soon enough, she’s on her feet, pulling me with her.

“Darcy,” I say, blinking as she tugs at my wrist. “What are you doing?”

“Dancing it out,” she says simply.

I look around the diner. It’s not popping, by any means, but there are definitely a couple other customers, chowing away in their booths. Darcy didn’t even want to dance behind closed doors, and now, she’s climbing onto a table, hopping around to the song. I stare at her, completely taken aback.

If I let her do this, she’ll hate me in the morning.

But if I stop her, I’ll be depriving myself of this vision.

She spins around, tossing her hands up as she hums along to the song.

She’s clearly caught the attention of the other diners, some of them grinning as they watch, others flicking judgmental brows.

But Darcy either doesn’t see them or simply doesn’t care.

I really hope it’s the latter.

“Hey. Are you sure that’s a good idea? You’ve been in a lot of pain.”

She pauses, giving me a wry smile. “The alcohol helps.” She shrugs, tugging me upward.

“You said dancing it out was stupid,” I call, still watching in awe.

“It is.”

“Then why are you doing it?”

Her feet move offbeat, and when she smiles, revealing a little freckle on the inside of her bottom lip, my spine tingles. “Because you were right,” she says. “It works.”

I thought falling for someone was supposed to be subliminal, something you didn’t even realize was happening.

I thought you weren’t supposed to understand why that ache in your chest existed, why someone you hardly knew could take up so much of your attention.

But it’s not like that. In fact, it’s painfully, glaringly obvious.

There is no confusion. There is no mistaking it.

I am falling in love with Darcy Cole.

I step onto the chair, pulling myself onto the table alongside her.

That smile grows wider than I’ve ever seen, and as the music swells, I grab her hand, twirling her around, her purple jersey a blur of color.

She lets out a nervous squeal as the table tilts beneath us, and I quickly pull her back in, pressing my palm to the small of her back.

Darcy spends most days trying to blend into the background, hiding what she's really going through. But right now, she’s taking up space, and I can’t get enough of it. She’s lost in her own little world, and for some reason, she’s letting me be a part of it. I want it to stay that way.

She lets out another bright laugh when I attempt a clumsy dip, her auburn hair flying as I pull her back up.

But the sound cracks a little at the end.

Her fingers clutch my sleeve a second longer than they should, and when I glance down, I see her jaw tighten, her breath catching as she steadies herself.

When the final notes fade out, Darcy carefully lowers one foot from the table.

She wipes her hands on her jersey, breathing hard, chest rising and falling as if she just sprinted a mile.

Her other foot hits the ground with a muffled thud, and she stiffens, like the impact shot straight up her spine.

The moment both her sneakers are flat on the floor, she lets out a low, sharp exhale and presses a hand to her thigh.

“Okay,” she mutters, voice thin. “That was a really bad idea.”

I hop down, my brows knitting. “You alright?”

She nods, but it’s more of a wobble. “Yeah. I just… I need to lay down.”

I offer her my arm, and she takes it with a quiet sigh, leaning into me. Not barely. Fully. Letting herself need me as we walk out of the diner toward my car.

I don’t say it out loud, but I could get used to being the one she leans on.

If only she’d let me.