Page 43 of No Shot (The Toronto Tundra #2)

Bri

I ’ ve never been more embarrassed in my entire life. Yet, here I am, standing at the glass, looking onto the ice, holding up this comically large sign.

The neon-puff paint was Mia ’ s Idea.

Kaia helped with the Tundra stickers.

I needed Cami ’ s skill at drawing bubble letters.

But the giant heart surrounding Penn #23? That was all me.

Yep, I am officially one of those girls, jumping around at the glass, trying to call attention to themselves. Except, there ’ s only one player in particular whose eyes I ’ m trying to catch, and he hasn ’ t taken a single peek at the crowd.

Even as he stretches next to Jack, he keeps his head down, focused on the ice in front of him.

He looks tired, even from the other side of the ice.

I can tell by the way he switches from one move to the other.

There ’ s no usual playfulness. No spring in his step I ’ ve come to expect.

Right now, it looks like nothing more than a chore.

I want to hug him. I want to run onto the ice and jump into his arms. Yeah, yeah, yeah.

How the mighty have fallen, feminism, and all that, but I want nothing more than to fall into his protective embrace.

I don ’ t need a man, I know that, but choosing to want one? I personally think that ’ s growth.

The crowd seems more boisterous than usual, or maybe it ’ s that I ’ m hyper-aware of my surroundings.

I ’ m exposed. So far out of my comfort zone, I can ’ t even begin to look around me.

If I had a mirror right now, I ’ d bet you a million bucks my cheeks are the color of a tomato.

Yet, instead of shying away, I stay firmly rooted in place, trying to send signals to number 23 to look up.

What if he doesn ’ t care?

Or worse, what if he sees the sign, but thinks I ’ m just another fan girl? He can ’ t be studying the crowd too closely, right? Oh my god, what if he doesn ’ t recognize me and I ’ ve just made a fool of myself for nothing?

Stop it.

No risk, no reward. I take a deep breath, pushing all shameful thoughts out of my head. I gather up all the courage hiding deep down in my body, raise a hand, and slap on the glass.

It ’ s Theo who notices the sign first, right as he skates by, stick-handling a puck before launching it into the net.

I can ’ t tell if he recognized me, but he certainly looked long enough to read it.

You can ’ t really miss the heart and number; it ’ s pretty easy to connect the dots, but Theo continues along the boards.

The buzzer on the scoreboard blares, and my heart sinks. That ’ s it, end of warm-ups, and he didn ’ t see.

As Penn pushes off his knee to stand, Theo skates over to him, whispering something in his ear.

Yes.

Please look.

Come on, Penn.

The rest of the players shuffle out quickly, leaving the ice looking barren, as a few guys finish out their last shots at the net.

Well, this was a bust.

Even so, I can ’ t draw my eyes away from Penn. My heart is racing so fast. One single shred of hope remains.

Suddenly, his eyes meet mine, and my breath catches.

I swear he ’ s looking right at me, not bothering to read the sign.

He doesn’t move. He doesn’t dare break the contact, even as more players shift on the ice around him.

We ’ re locked in, frozen in time, like we ’ re really seeing each other for the first time.

I ’ m here, for him, holding this ridiculous sign.

It ’ s not as obvious as a will you be my boyfriend note, but I thought the message was clear. I ’ m declaring loud and clear that I heart Penn, ready and willing to show the world exactly that, regardless of how he ’ s playing or what team he ’ s on.

I hate attention, almost as much as I despise PDA, and I hope my sacrifice is enough to get him to forgive me. He understands me. He ’ d know how challenging this was for me, right? I ’ m laying it all on the line right now.

I spot the faintest smile start to form. His eyes regaining their familiar glimmer. Theo taps Penn on his shoulder before leaving him standing alone on the ice. He doesn ’ t acknowledge his buddy, still entranced in our moment.

My hand stays splayed out on the glass, clinging to that extra inch of closeness. I missed him. I want to be the one in the stands he looks for. The one to make his day that much better.

Another buzzer blares, and he skates toward the board door. With one leg off the ice, he turns back over his shoulder for one final shocked look, and I just smile, heart still thumping steadily in my chest.