Page 132 of Rule 1: Never Accidentally Marry Your Teammate

“Finn, Noah!” Coach’s voice booms, and we jump apart. “We are all waiting for you!”

“Sorry, Coach,” Finn says. “We’re on our way.”

“Now!”

Finn grabs my hand, and we jog toward Coach.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

Noah

Coach shakes his head when Finn and I appear at the end of the tunnel. “Idiots.”

I stiffen. Coach is acting like Finn and I delayed this whole event. I slide my gaze to Finn, but he’s trembling.

Finn never trembles. He’s Mr. Cocky himself.

Whatever.I turn to join the other players on the bench.

Coach clears his throat. “Go to the center of the ice.”

“What?” I blink at him.

“You heard me.” His pale blue eyes are narrow, and he points, as if the reason for the confusion was that I might not know what center of the ice means. “Skate out there. This was delayed enough. You, Finn, go now.”

I look at Finn, but his face is grim and worried.

Are we going to be yelled at in front of the entire arena? No, no way. There’s no reason for Finn to be anxious.

“Is everyone coming?” I look at the bench. Our teammates still sit there.

“Let’s go, Noah,” Finn says, even though the strained look on his face remains.

He starts skating, as if he’s going to his execution.

“It will be fine!” I call after him.

He tenses, then turns around. I skate and join him.

“Whatever happens,” I say under my breath. “It’s just a bit of media.”

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t look reassured.

I skate beside him, glimpsing his handsome, somber face. His jaw trembles.

We reach the center of the ice, and someone hands Finn a microphone. Maybe there was a reason why Finn needed to come to the ice. Guilt flares through me. But why did he bother to make sure I was alright and bring me with him?

Or maybe he doesn’t want me on the ice with him. Is that the issue? But Coach knows we split...

Confusion crashes through me, and I stare at Finn. I hate the way my gaze still, after all this time, goes immediately to the way the bright lights ahead meet his chiseled cheekbones. His golden-brown curls are now slick with sweat, and some strands stick to his forehead. I want to smooth them away, but cameras are on us, and it’s not my place to smooth away his hair anymore.

I wonder if the hits he got in the game were stronger than I thought, because he seems wobbly, and his breath comes out in more frequently spaced puffs. The cold air clings to my skin, more uncomfortable after the sweaty game.

“Hello everyone,” Finn says into the microphone, but his gaze remains on me. “You’re probably wondering what this event is. I promise it will be short.”

Then he gives an awkward laugh, and I swear I can feel the audience cringe. Some of them shift, and the arena rumbles, like everyone is complaining to their spouse at once, and people start moving. They walk up the steps to exit the arena, and I see Finn shoot a terrified glance.