Page 12

CHAPTER 12

ELI

Southern California never gets super cold. There are some chilly nights in the summer and global warming has increased the chances of snow over the years, but as a whole, it stays pretty warm.

That doesn’t stop the student store from selling the most adorable hat, mitten, and scarf set with the cutest badger on it. They’re purple and gray, our school colors, and the badger is super freakin’ cute.

In fact, I feel downright cherubic in this winter set. My friends and I stopped in the rink shop before the game to see if we could purchase jerseys and wouldn’t you know it, they have more in stock than some NHL teams. I might have grabbed me a number forty-eight, Edin Levine. I’m wearing it over my cheer hoodie, but yeah, I look cute and festive.

Now we’re sitting in our seats, front and center, near the home goalie. It’s the third quarter and our team is kicking some ass with a score of 3-0. This isn’t an actual game. It’s pre-season. Our neighboring rivals, the Marley State Porcupines, are visiting and we’re showing them that a badger is far more dangerous than a porcupine.

I may have done some research before securing tickets. If Edin played an offensive position, I’d have opted for the other end of the rink. But defensive means he’ll be hovering closer to this end. Not entirely, of course. Defensemen can score goals, too. But their primary job is to protect their own goal.

Edin’s pretty good at it.

The Badgers kept the puck at the other end of the ice for the first six minutes of the last period, though they haven’t managed to score another goal. Which is fine. While it’s not unheard of for a team to score three or four goals in a period, it’s unlikely the Porcupines are going to catch up at this rate.

I jerk forward when Porcupine number eight starts flying down this way with the rest of both teams trailing him. Edin already backed up, so he’s hovering around the crease. Number eight comes up short, feigns to the goal’s right but shoots left. Right onto Edin’s stick. It bounces off and three players go after it on the opposite side of the boards.

The ref’s whistle stops the play and the group breaks apart. Then Edin glides this way.

“NICE SAVE, EDIN!” my little group of friends shouts.

He hasn’t seen us yet. Even though he’s looked in our direction, he’s either looked over us or not quite at us. When we shout, his eyes move up and this time, he sees us. In fact, his eyes meet mine as if they’re magnetic.

He raises a brow, the corner of his lip raising in a half smile as he comes closer to the glass. I see him shake his head in amusement as I wave at him. I’m doing the whole finger waggle, but it’s lost inside my mitten.

Edin sighs and arches his trajectory back to the gameplay.

For the rest of the period, Edin steals glances my way. My stomach jumps when he gets an assist on our fourth goal, and his eyes seek mine in the crowd. I make sure he sees me cheering my fucking ass off.

We win four-nothing. It’s a great first pre-season game and I’m damn stoked about it. Not going to lie—it’s been a while since I’ve been this invested in a game. I love that my brother plays and definitely love to look back on my father’s career, but the hockey-obsessed gene skipped me.

Until tonight. Maybe I love hockey, after all.

“Thanks for coming with me tonight,” I tell my friends as we step outside. Friday is already pulling off his hat. We all wore matching hats, scarves, and mittens, which is kind of awesome on Friday since he’s all emo punk in his black demon-of-the-night aesthetic wearing a pastel purple and gray pom-pom hat.

“See you tomorrow,” Courtney says.

“See if you can lick that boy’s abs, huh?” Bea suggests.

They leave cackling as I make my way around the side where the players will be coming out. The chances of me licking Edin’s abs tonight are slim. We’ll do that next time we’re at Confessions. Tonight, it’s about…

I suppose it’s about showing him I’m very obviously obsessed. I’m not sure there’s any hiding that.

I’m not waiting long when Edin steps outside, his enormous hockey bag strung over his shoulder. I wait until he’s a dozen paces away from the door before I accost him. I’m polite like that.

“Nice game,” I say as I intercept him on the sidewalk.

He gives me an amused look. “Thanks.”

Edin doesn’t slow down, so I fall into step beside him. “That assist was sexy as fuck. But my favorite was your attempted goal, still managing to make it down to the other end of the ice while pummeling the guy who tried for a goal on your goalie. Refs were a little sloppy tonight, though I think that’s a given. That two-minute for roughing was a bullshit call.”

Now his pace slows as he looks at me. “You know hockey?”

“I’m not just a pretty boy on the cheer squad. I have multiple interests.”

He laughs. A real laugh. It makes my heart race for a minute. “Guess so,” he says.

“We grew up in a hockey house. Uber fans. It’s a whole lifestyle, which I’m sure you know.”

“I do. Who’s we?” Edin asks.

“Oh. Sorry. I have a twin, so there are times when my pronouns change to we/us without me realizing. Even when he’s not here.”

“You have a twin?” he asks, shaking his head.

I grin. “I do. Identical twin except, next to each other, you can see the differences more than you can when we’re apart.”

“You don’t do the freaky thing and switch places, do you?” he asks warily.

I laugh. “No. He’s straight and I’m super not straight.”

Edin tilts his head in amusement. “That’s a thing? I thought if you’re identical, you’d be identical in that way too.”

“Meh. We came from the same bundle of cells that randomly duplicated and split. That’s what makes us identical biologically. Otherwise, we always say we’re slightly off-kilter from one another. We both love cheer, but I’m a flyer and he’s a tumbler. We share the same friends, but we rarely hang out with them at the same time. He’s into girl bits and I’m into dick.”

Edin laughs again and fuck, I want to keep hearing it. He shakes his head and gets us back on track to hockey. “You follow hockey?”

I shrug. “Sometimes. We’re working on a really hard routine right now, though, so most of my spare time is spent in preparation for that. But yeah. I keep track of the ranks.”

“Who’s your favorite team?” he asks.

“Ohhh… Vancouver. Just don’t tell anyone.”

Edin laughs. “Oh, come on. They managed to win six Cups in the last twenty years and gathered a ton of fans. Legacy, man. The years they didn’t win, they were like seventh and eighth in their division.”

“That means it takes a hardcore fan to keep cheering for them!” I argue. “Whose yours?”

“Carolina. They’ve been consistently good for eons.”

“Fine, fine. Favorite player?” I challenge.

“Present or all time?”

“Both. You better answer right.”

Edin grins. “All time, Max Latham. That man was a fucking wild card on and off the ice, but man, when he hit rock bottom in the press, he soared to god-like heights on the ice following.” He shakes his head. “Oh, wait. I’m supposed to say the Buffalo trio. To be fair, they are legends in their own right. Magnificent.”

“Why are you supposed to say the trio?”

“They’re my best friend’s fathers.”

“Seriously?” I balk.

Edin nods. “Yep. Best guys you’ll ever meet.”

“That’s awesome. I met them once when we were kids. But I was too young to truly remember them.”

“I’ve met Max once. He’s my best friend’s close friend’s father. Dak’s dads are close with Ezlo’s dads, so they’ve been over to Dak’s house while I was there before. Talk about a ten-year-old being awestruck.”

“I bet. He seems pretty chill.”

Edin nods. “Yep. What about you?”

“I’m going with Owen Vincent. Hands down.”

“Oh, definitely. He’s worth a mention when speaking about the greats.”

“How about current?” I ask.

“Brandon Darrow. He may still be a rookie, but I know he’s going to do great things.”

“Mine is Jude Vincent.”

Edin laughs. “You mean your favorite old-school hockey player’s son? Not original, Elijah.”

I laugh too. It’s clear that he hasn’t put together who I am in relation to Owen and Jude. Or maybe he doesn’t know my last name. I feel like if he did, he’d realize there’s a reason the Vincents are my favorite.

The temptation to tell him is there, but I hesitate. I don’t want something to change between us because he learns who my fathers are. I’ve met people like that. People who love hockey less than Edin does. There’s just something about learning you’re the son of a professional athlete to make best friends come out of the woodwork.

If I’m going to earn this man’s friendship and his trust, I need to do so without any outside influence. I have a feeling that he wouldn’t entirely alter his opinion about me, though. He’s already exposed to hockey legends on a somewhat regular basis, if I had to guess.

Still, I don’t want to take a chance.

“Hey, Jude is good!” I argue.

Edin grins. “Yeah, he is. He was my favorite for a split second, but then I saw Brandon, and he was knocked down a peg.”

I’m totally telling Jude that. Apparently he needs to work harder.

A comfortable silence falls between us as we continue to walk. I can see his frat house ahead, all lit up with spotlights on the ΩΞΛ on the front of the house. There’s a car parked out front with their headlights on.

“You hoping to go pro?” I ask.

Edin nods. “I would wager a guess that most people who stick with a sport since childhood want to go pro. I’m not sure I’ll get the chance, but I’m trying.”

“You’re really good, Edin.”

He gives me another amused smile. “Thanks. I don’t think you’re biased at all.”

“Why would I be biased?” I ask. Trying to keep the smile from my face is nearly impossible.

“Why, indeed,” he deadpans as we approach the car. The back door opens and out jumps his daughter.

“Daddy!” she calls. Edin catches her in his free arm and hikes her onto his hip.

“Hey, sunshine. Were you good for Uncle Dak?”

Fuck. I try not to noticeably squint into the car to catch a glimpse of Dak Bozik, son of the Buffalo trio. I only vaguely recalled that they have a son until Edin reconnected those dots. I bet he’s hot.

I’m distracted when Edin bends down to look into the passenger window. His ass is right there. How can I not get distracted? I love that man’s ass more than I love to breathe.

“Was she good?” Edin asks.

“I was good, Dad,” the girl complains.

I don’t hear Dak’s answer.

“Thanks. See you this weekend.” Edin stands and the window rolls up as the car pulls away. Then he turns to face me. I’m still standing a dozen feet away, watching like a creep.

“I’ll see you later,” he tells me.

The girl stares at me with a glare that would give any adult a run for their money.

I nod. “Good game tonight.”

I’m rewarded with another half-smile. “Thanks.”

They head for the door. I walk toward them without following onto the front path. “Edin?” I call.

The two of them turn and the girl places her hands on her hips. Edin chuckles. “Go inside.”

“But Dad!”

“Go.”

With a scowl firmly directed at me, this girl points at her eyes and then at me before running up the stairs and pushing open the front door. She yells, “I’m home!”

A very loud masculine cry of “OPA!” follows.

Amused, I look back at Edin. He’s watching me warily. Waiting. Expecting me to ask him… anything. I want to. I’m dying to.

But I don’t.

Shaking my head, I say, “Sorry. See you around, yeah?”

He licks his lips and fuck, my dick twitches in response. “Yeah. Probably at work.”

I grin. “Definitely at work.”

Edin rolls his eyes and turns. “Cute hat,” he says as he climbs the stairs.

It meant nothing. I know it meant nothing. He likes the hat that a hundred, maybe a thousand people wear during his games. Hell, his daughter probably has the same one.

Even so, I’m grinning far too wide as I turn and head for my own frat house. Now that I’m not distracted, I can feel the heat and pull off my hat and scarf. I’d already been holding my mittens instead of wearing them.

I don’t understand why I’m so obsessed with this guy. I really don’t. Why can’t I stop thinking about him? Why can’t I stop seeking him out?

As I climb into bed that night, still puzzling over this, I come to one conclusion. Edin Levine is my person. Without a doubt, I’m convinced he’s my person.

I’m just not sure how to convince him of that.