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Page 26 of Second Chance with the Enemy CEO (Second Chance Hockey Players #1)

Chapter nineteen

Hazel

T he music thrums in the distance as my friends and I weave through the crowd, drink in hand, the smell of popcorn and fried food heavy in the air. Strings of fairy lights crisscross overhead, casting everything in a warm, golden glow.

Grace, Maya, and Luke are animated, pointing out food stalls and discussing which bands they are most excited to see. I follow along, a little distracted, soaking in the nostalgia of being back in a place that feels both familiar and strange.

Maya loops her arm through mine, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “So, are you glad we dragged you here yet?”

“Dragged might be a strong word,” I say, grinning. “But yes, this is nice. It has been ages since I have done something like this.”

We find a spot near the stage just as the band kicks off their set, the opening chords electrifying the air. The song, guitar riffs, drumbeats, and the infectious energy of the crowd quickly pull me in, and I cannot help but tap my foot and move my head to the rhythm.

“No, no,” Maya says over the music, shaking her head, “we are not having that. There is no way you are just standing there. Come on!”

Before I can protest, she grabs both my hands and starts swaying dramatically, her exaggerated moves drawing a laugh from me. “Maya, you look ridiculous!”

“And you look like you need to loosen up,” she shoots back, twirling herself in a circle. “Dance, Hazel! I thought all the drinks we drank before coming here would loosen you up.”

I glance at the stage, then the crowd, and finally let go of the self-conscious knot in my chest. My body moves to the beat, hips swaying, hands reaching up as the lead singer belts out a high note. Maya whoops beside me, spinning in a circle with wild abandon.

“You’ve still got moves!” Maya teases, bumping her hip into mine.

“And you’ve still got no rhythm,” I shoot back, grinning.

She gasps in mock offense. “Rude!”

Grace joins in next, her arms in the air as she bounces to the music. “Now this is what we needed!” she yells over the noise.

After a while, the song shifts to something slower but no less engaging. The crowd sways together, and I close my eyes for a moment, letting the music wash over me.

When I open them, I freeze mid-step. My heart stumbles in my chest when I spot Liam standing just a few feet away with a group of people. He is watching me, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Hazel,” Grace whispers, her eyes darting to Liam. “Isn’t that…?”

“Yeah, it is,” I say quickly.

Maya follows our line of sight. “Interesting,” she whispers, her voice dripping with suggestion.

“Not a word,” I warn.

She smirks but mercifully leaves it alone, spinning away to continue dancing.

Before I can process what is happening, Liam breaks away from his group and starts walking toward us.

“Hey,” he says, stopping a few feet away. He looks at me, then at Grace and Maya. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Likewise,” I say, forcing a casual tone. “What brings you to a music festival?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Music, mostly. And the fact that it is a festival is reason enough to be here, don’t you think?”

“You’re having fun,” he says.

I arch a brow. “Is that a question or an observation?”

“A little of both.”

“Well, I’m having fun,” I say, crossing my arms but unable to stop the grin creeping onto my face. “What about you?”

“I’m getting there,” he admits, glancing toward the stage. “You still got the moves, though.”

“Oh, I know.” I flip my hair dramatically, raising a brow. “Who do you think I am?”

“A cocky little thing,” he says with a shrug.

I gasp, feigning offense. “Rude! You have clearly forgotten who you're talking to.”

Liam snorts, shaking his head. “Oh, I remember, all right.”

“Well, Mr. Observer,” I say, stepping closer and poking a finger lightly into his chest, “let’s see if you’ve got any moves yourself.”

He raises a brow, “I’m pretty sure we’ve established that dancing isn’t my thing.”

“And I’m pretty sure you didn’t give a damn back then with your one-legged dancing…,” I counter, grabbing his hand before he can retreat.

“That was a long time ago.”

“There are no excuses here. Let’s go.”

“Hazel…”

“Don’t Hazel me,” I say, tugging him further into the thrumming crowd. “You can’t just stand around looking pretty. That is not how this works.”

When did I become this bold? Huh…

He raises a brow, clearly giving up. “Are you drunk?” He asks, half-joking but with a hint of genuine curiosity.

“Just a bit tipsy,” I admit, holding my thumb and forefinger a fraction apart. “But tipsy me has excellent taste, and tipsy me says you need to loosen up.”

He lets out a resigned chuckle, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. I stop in a spot where the beat is so loud it feels like it is vibrating in my bones.

“Okay, here’s the deal,” I say, turning to face him. “All you have to do is move to the beat. No fancy footwork required. Just loosen up.”

“Loosen up,” he echoes, his tone dry but his lips twitching.

“Yes!” I nod enthusiastically. “Look around - you know no one cares how anyone else looks. It is about feeling the music. Besides, everyone here should have been used to your footwork by now. I bet they miss it and will be excited to see you do it again.”

We danced - if you can call whatever we did dancing, and after a few more songs, Liam eventually did his one-legged dancing, causing cheers - for a few more minutes, and I cannot remember the last time I laughed this much.

By the time we finally step away from the crowd, my cheeks ache from smiling, and I feel like I have run a marathon.

We find a quiet spot under one of the canopies, just far enough from the pounding music to hear ourselves think.

Liam sets a six-pack of beer on the weathered wooden table between us, cracking open a fresh one.

I take a sip of my beer, savoring the chilled bitterness as I lean back in my chair. Across from me, Liam is sprawled out, his shirt slightly damp from dancing.

“I’ll admit it; that was fun.”

“All because of my stellar dance moves, obviously,” Liam replies, smirking as he pops the cap off another bottle.

“Your moves are..., memorable, I’ll give you that.” I grin, gesturing vaguely. “I don’t know why it gets the crowd every time.”

“Hey, don’t knock it,” he says, pointing at me with his bottle, “it’s called improvisation.”

“Improvisation,” I echo, laughing, “sure, let’s call it that.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. For a moment, we sit in comfortable silence, the kind that feels like an exhale after a long day.

“You know,” I start, breaking the comfortable silence, “this reminds me of that summer we all went camping. You and the guys had that ridiculous dance-off around the campfire.”

Liam chuckles, the sound low and warm. “Oh, come on, do not bring that up. I was robbed of my rightful win.”

I snort. “You did the funky chicken with twerking, Liam. Together. How exactly were you supposed to win with that?”

He raises his beer, pointing it at me with mock indignation. “It was creative. You cannot deny that.”

“Creative is one word for it,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I think Logan nearly fell into the fire from laughing too hard.”

“He did fall. I had to pull him out before he roasted his arm,” Liam says, shaking his head. “That trip was chaotic.”

“Yeah, but it was a good kind of chaos,” I say softly, staring out at the distant crowd. “Back when everything felt simpler.”

He glances at me, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, simpler times. No responsibilities, no pressure…, no mess.”

“You ever think about it?” I ask, my voice is quieter now. “Those days?”

He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Sometimes. More than I care to admit. And you?”

I shake my head. “I try not to think about it too much,” I say honestly.

“When was the last time you went to a concert?” Liam asks suddenly, leaning back on his elbows.

I glance at him, surprised. I think for a moment, brushing my hair out of my face as the wind picks up. “It has been a while. I have been too busy to even think about going to one.”

He raises a brow. “Too busy for music? That does not sound like you.”

I shrug. “Life happens.”

“What about you?” I counter. “When was your last concert?”

“Two years ago,” he says.

I turn to him, eyebrows raised. “Really? Who did you see?”

“Bruno Mars,” he says with a small smile.

I blink. “No way. You? At a Bruno Mars concert?”

“Why do you sound like you don’t believe me?” He asks, amusement flickering in his voice.

“I don’t know…,” I shrug. “You do not exactly scream ‘Uptown Funk’ to me.”

He smirks, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Well, to prove I’m not lying…”

He scrolls for a moment before holding out the screen. It is a picture of him at the concert, standing with Cara, both of them grinning at the camera. He swipes to the next file - a short video of Bruno Mars performing “Uptown Funk” with the crowd going wild.

“Happy now?” He asks, slipping the phone back into his pocket.

“Of course, you’d never go to a Bruno Mars concert of your free-will,” I say laughing.

“Cara nagged me for three months to take her,” he says with a shrug.

I laugh, the sound bubbling out before I can stop it. “Of course. That girl has you wrapped around her finger. Unlike your other sisters, she knows exactly how to make you cave.”

“She’s persistent,” he admits with a wry smile, “and annoyingly good at it.”

Before I can respond, a voice interrupts us. “Hazel? Is that you?”

I turn to see an older woman, Mrs. Carter, approaching with a warm smile. “Oh, my goodness, it has been so long! How are you, dear?”

I stand, exchanging quick pleasantries while Liam watches quietly from his seat. Mrs. Carter’s smile widens when she spots him. “And Liam! It is a surprise and a delight to my old eyes seeing you both together again. You two always were thick as thieves.”

“Not anymore,” Liam mutters under his breath, low enough that only I can hear.