Page 6

Chapter six

Mandy

K ira is still buzzing from the game as we walk into our apartment, her voice two octaves higher than normal.

“Can we just take a second to appreciate how cool that was?” she says, kicking off her boots and spinning in a little victory dance. “Like we got actual tickets. From actual players. ”

I smile, hanging up my coat. “I know. It felt kind of unreal.”

She drops onto the couch dramatically. “Unreal? Mandy, we were practically VIP. The usher even smiled like he knew we were special. We got the good seats, saw them up close, and now I kind of know which one I’d let ruin my credit score.”

“You already picked?”

“I’m narrowing it down. Ethan’s a frontrunner. But James has that chaotic good energy I respect. And let’s not even start on Mikey; the dude winked at me during warm-ups.”

I laugh, sitting beside her. “It was fun. Not just the guys, the whole thing. The crowd. The energy. It was addictive.”

Kira nods enthusiastically. “Same. And the fact that we know them now? Like, that’s wild. Who are we, right?”

“Two girls who may be in over our heads.”

“Speak for yourself. I’m diving in headfirst.”

“And, girl,” she continues, flopping onto the couch like she just ran the rink herself, “you didn’t watch the game, you watched the guy.”

“I watched the game,” I lie, setting my purse down and heading for the kitchen.

She’s already pulling up clips on her phone. “Oh, really? Because the way you leaned forward every time number twenty-three hit the ice suggests otherwise.”

I try not to smile. “It was an exciting game.”

“Sure was. Especially when number twenty-three blocked that slapshot like a human wall. Pretty sure half the arena gasped. You included.”

“Kira.”

“What?” she says, grinning. “I’m just saying, if I had that kind of man candy next door interested in me, I’d be doing more than borrowing sugar.”

I grab two glasses of water and hand her one. “You’re insane.”

“I’m honest. And don’t act like you weren’t mentally writing your vows in the third period.”

I shake my head and sip my water. The truth is, watching Nate on the ice tonight did something to me. The way he moved was controlled but explosive, aggressive but clean. It made it hard to look away.

Not to mention the moment he spotted me in the crowd.

Just a glance. Just a flick of recognition.

But it hit like a puck to the chest.

I lean against the kitchen counter, watching Kira scroll her phone with a goofy grin like she’s still at the game.

“You know,” I say casually, “for all that teasing, you were watching someone pretty closely yourself tonight.”

She gasps, looking up like I just accused her of a federal crime. “Excuse me?”

“Ethan,” I say, pointing my finger. “You were watching Ethan like he was your final exam and you forgot to study.”

She clutches her chest. “I was watching the game . The beautiful, fast-paced, high-stakes game.”

“Uh-huh. You mean the part where Ethan got a penalty and you said, and I quote, ‘I’d still let him check me into the boards’?”

Kira doesn’t even blink. “I stand by that. That man could commit a minor infraction on me any day of the week.”

I laugh so hard I almost spill my water.

“And don’t act like I didn’t see you clocking the rest of the roster,” I say.

“I mean, can you blame me?” she says, raising her brows. “We were surrounded by more abs, jawlines, and smirks in one place, than I’ve seen in my entire adult life.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“I’m awake. And breathing. And very much an Acers fan.”

She fans herself dramatically.

Eventually, we call it a night. Kira disappears into her room with a snack and a Bluetooth speaker that’s already playing something upbeat. I double-check the lock, turn off the lights, and retreat to my bedroom, still humming with the energy of the game.

I slip into my pajamas and pull the covers up to my chest, but sleep doesn’t come easy. The image of Nate on the ice focused, fierce, and fast, won’t leave my head. And the way he looked at me in the stands? It wasn’t casual. It wasn’t nothing.

I close my eyes and sigh, and force myself to go to sleep.

***

The next day, I’m halfway through a brutal practice essay when there’s a knock on the door. It’s midafternoon, and I expect it to be a package or Kira forgetting her keys again.

But it’s Nate.

He’s in jeans and a dark long-sleeve shirt that somehow looks custom tailored despite being casual. His hair’s still damp like he just showered post-practice, and he holds up a tiny plastic bag with foam earplugs inside.

“Neighborly supply drop,” he says, with that crooked smile. “Heard your roommate’s pregame hype music yesterday through the walls. Figured you could use reinforcements.”

I blink, surprised. “You came to deliver earplugs?”

“And check if you made it through the post-game hangover.”

I laugh. “I wasn’t hungover.”

He tilts his head. “Did you at least enjoy the game?”

“It was great. Intense. Loud. Fast-paced. Kira was salivating over your entire roster, by the way.”

He chuckles. “She’s got taste.”

“I had to remind her we were at a hockey game, not a Chippendale show.”

“Well, tell her she’s always welcome back. She probably had more fun than some of the season ticket holders.”

I shake my head, grinning. “That's for sure!"

He leans casually against the doorframe. “And for the record, I did see you in the crowd. You looked like you were having a good time. Cheering hard.”

I shrug. “I mean, I did what I could.”

"It was much appreciated." He glances down the hallway, then back. “Well, if you need silence to survive studying, those should help.”

I take the bag from him, our fingers brushing. “Thanks. They’ll go right next to the caffeine stash.”

Nate hesitates like he’s about to say more.

“You played well,” I add before he can speak.

His eyes meet mine. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You looked sharp and made some really great plays.”

A pause, and then that smile again. “Was trying to impress someone.”

I smirk. “Please don’t say Kira.”

“Only if she comes with a huge fan crowd,” he says jokingly. Then after a beat, he adds more quietly, “Though between us, some people are harder to impress, and a lot more fun to try.”

We both laugh and I blush.

“You know,” I say, softening looking at the earplugs, “this is weirdly thoughtful.”

He leans in slightly. “What can I say? I’m a man of mystery. And excellent hearing.”

I shake my head. “Well, mystery man, thanks again.”

He nods once, then takes a step back. “If you and Kira want to come to another game, let me know. I’ll leave a couple tickets at will call.”

“I might take you up on that.”

“Good,” he says, and starts walking.

I close the door slowly, earplugs in hand, heart just a little louder than it was a moment ago.

Because it was just a knock.

Just earplugs.

But now it feels like something is beginning.