Page 5

5

Elle

“ T hese seats are incredible!” Audrey says from beside me. “In that jersey, you stand out like a sore thumb, Elle.”

It’s nice and warm, so I don’t care if I’m wearing the opposing team’s colors.

“Yeah, well, my sign is going to do that, too.”

“No kidding,” she snorts. “I didn’t think about it until now, but I bet you’re gonna make some Bobcats’ fans very unhappy by calling out their golden boy.”

“Not to mention what they’ll say when they see the photo of Preston and I kissing.”

“How many likes do you have on your pic now?”

“No idea. I’m scared to look.”

“Why? It’s a great photo. You look hot and tiny next to the woolly mammoth.”

“My phone has been buzzing like crazy, most likely from new comments.”

“So have a look. I’ll hold up your sign while you check.” Lifting it up over her head, she yells, “Woohoo. Let’s go boys!” to the men skating around the ice during warmups.

“Which team are you rooting for?” I can’t help but ask her.

“Team? I’m just here for the sexy players on both teams, including some of our hottie clients.”

Smiling at her, I pull out my phone from my purse. “Oh, wow,” I mutter as I scroll.

“A lot of likes?”

“Hundreds. And so many comments. Oh! And there’s the photo of us kissing that I’m tagged in somehow. Three thousand people have already liked it! Ugh, but the comments on it are even worse…”

“What do they say?” Audrey sits down in her seat and leans over to see the screen of my phone while I pause long enough for her to read a few. “Ah, trolls. Ignore them, girl. They’re just jealous.”

“Jealous? They’re vicious. This comment that has the most likes says, ‘ This is the best Preston could do after going five years without a date? He should throw her back and try again, but he’d probably hurt his back.’ Then it’s followed up by the laughing until you cry emoji.”

“Mean girls never go away. They just get older and more bitter,” Audrey says. “Seriously, Elle. Put the phone away and enjoy the game in your new jersey.”

The device buzzes again and again in my palm. “It’s hard to ignore the comments when a new one comes in every second.”

“Put the phone down. Delete the app. Do what you have to do, but don’t let them get to you for one second. They have sucky lives and want everyone else to be as miserable as they are.”

“Right.” I shove my phone back into my purse and tuck it under my seat. “Give me that sign. It’s too late to turn back now.”

“That a girl!” Audrey cheers as she hands the sign over.

When a few more of the Warhawks skate out onto the ice for warmups, I get to my feet and hold it over my head, searching for Preston. He’s one of the last to come out, probably because he doesn’t have to practice shooting pucks or stretching like the goalie. No, his job is to hit the players on the other team, and hit them hard, keeping them from getting near the goal.

Audrey stands up beside me and takes one side of the poster. “So, instead of worrying about the trolls, let’s talk about you and the woolly mammoth. What happens now?”

“What do you mean?” I ask as I alternate between watching the two men skating on opposite sides of the ice.

“You got your photo. He upped the ante to include a kiss that the world will see, which makes me think he’s on board with the idea of being your fake boyfriend.”

“A photo was all I wanted from him, and he was kind enough to do that. I think that means it’s over.”

“Over? No, it can’t just be over!”

“What do you want me to do? Go wait for him by the bus and ask him to come home with me tonight to celebrate his big win?”

“Yes, that is exactly what you should say!”

Shaking my head, I bark out a laugh. “No. That’s not going to happen. I just ended things with Christian. And while I felt some sparks from the kiss, that doesn’t mean Preston felt them too.”

I don’t tell my friend about the other part of him I felt while we were lip locked to verify the statement on my sign.

A sign which is probably about to be circulating widely around social media.

Preston

One look at Riley during pregame warmups and I can tell he’s already heard about me and Elle. How do I know? His usual smirk is nowhere to be found on his pretty boy face. He looks annoyed, also a little nervous. The cocky shit has never made it to the finals before, and he knows I’m going to be gunning for him every second we’re both on the ice.

Elle is right. The son of a bitch does look scared.

“Oh, shit,” my teammate Cade says. “I’ve never seen that psycho smile on your face before, Pres. Whatever you’re planning, just don’t murder the arrogant prick before we win the championship.”

There’s a smile on my face? Reaching up, I have to feel around my facial hair to find and trace my lips through my gloves.

I’ll be damned. There is a smile.

And for the first time in years, seeing the prick doesn’t send me into a completely unhinged, blind rage.

“I’m not gonna kill him,” I assure Cade. “I’d rather just make his life hell.”

A few moments later, Riley skates around me in a circle, giving me a wide berth before finally saying, “I know what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing, Riley, other than getting ready to paint the ice with your blood to help the Warhawks get their first of four wins?”

The jackass’s face goes pale, and it’s not just the reflection from the ice.

“There’s nothing going on between you and Elle. There can’t be,” he says. “We just broke up yesterday!”

“Guess she just couldn’t wait to move on with someone who isn’t a selfish asshole in bed.”

“That’s bullshit!” His voice is getting louder the longer we talk, like I’m finally getting to him and not the other way around. God, Elle was right. The psychological warfare is even more enjoyable than hitting him. Bruises heal; words burrow deep into the skin and fester for years.

I give Riley a wink and a grin. “Just wait until you see her sign.”

“Her sign? What sign?” he asks. He glances up at the stands as if searching for her. “She’s here? How did she get tickets?”

“I hooked her up.” Actually, Jim came through for me like I knew he would. Cost me two grand, but it’s totally worth it if I win the championship trophy and get a contract extension.

“Fucking hell, Lawrence. You sure are going to a lot of trouble to try to make everyone think you’re hooking up.”

“How else would she know without a shadow of a doubt that my dick is bigger than yours if we didn’t hook up at least once?”

I look to the seats I paid for and there she is, white sign held above her head, the gold, red and black glitter filling the big perfect letters glistening under the lights.

THE RESULTS ARE IN: Preston’s stick is bigger than Christian’s!

Instead of the word “stick” there’s a long black hockey stick drawn in the space. It’s a thing of beauty, especially since I know how fast she made it. I want it hanging in my bedroom so I can go to sleep with a smile on my face every night.

And hot damn, she’s wearing my black and red jersey in the sea of blue and yellow Bobcat fans.

Christian’s eyes follow my finger when I point her out to him. His pale face instantly goes Warhawk red, either because of what the sign says about him or because the girl he was sleeping with is wearing my number. Maybe both.

“You son of a bitch!” he yells before he tosses his stick down. Next, he jerks each of his gloves off his hands and throws them on the ice to launch himself at me.

Since I’m several inches taller than the jerk, and therefore have longer arms, I’m easily able to hold him off me with a hand on his forehead while skating backwards. Hell, I’m too busy laughing at him losing his shit to even take a swing at him myself.

When I see a bunch of yellow jerseys heading toward us, I do give his head a push backwards hard enough that his skates slide out from under him, and he lands on his ass. There’s no reason for his entire team to jump in and start a fight before the puck drops.

“Can’t wait to make you kiss the boards all night long, asshole,” I tell him with a smile before I head to the locker room.

“What was that shit with Riley about?” Coach Ramsey asks as he follows me down the narrow hallway.

“Just giving him a taste of his own medicine.”

“We can’t afford to lose you to penalties, Lawrence. They’ll score on every power play they get.”

“I know that, and I’m good. I swear I won’t throw a punch at him or even retaliate if he tries that shit.”

“Oh, yeah? How can you be so sure? I know you’ve been ejected for brawling with him twice before.”

I come to a stop to turn around and face him, towering over the tall, lanky man in his dress shoes since I’m on skates. “How can I be sure I’ll get to Riley more than he’ll get to me? Because I’m fucking his girl.”

I know it’s just a rumor Elle and I managed to get circulating tonight. But if enough people believe a rumor, then it may as well be the truth.

“No kidding?” Coach says with a grin. “Good for you, Lawrence. Just don’t lose your edge during the finals from too much lovin’.”

“Too much lovin ’?” I can’t help but repeat the phrase back to him.

“You know what I’m talking about,” he huffs before stomping past me.

Unfortunately, I do know what he means. The buildup of testosterone makes me angrier, more aggressive, which is exactly what my team needs on the ice. It’s one of the reasons why I don’t date, not even in the off season. I can’t afford to have any distractions or waste time on drama with women, especially not with my contract on the line.

So, no matter how badly I may want to make the rumor about me and Elle a reality, I’m going to keep my big stick in my pants.