by Kat Mizera
We discussed the logistics of my hockey schedule, including a lot of weekend travel, and she pulled out what appeared to be a thick, spiral-bound planner. She flipped it open and stared at the calendar.
“Okay, we can do Monday and Wednesday nights from seven to nine. Does that work for you?”
I immediately nodded. “Anything you’ve got works for me as long as I can get to class, hockey practice, and games. My coach is expecting weekly progress reports, so I can’t get behind.”
“Anything due right now? I know this was the first week of class, but there’s usually something.”
“Uh, I have some reading to do for Sociology and Global Business, and some practice problems to do in stat.”
“Then let’s start with stat. If that’s going to be your biggest problem, we should make sure you’re getting the concepts from day one.”
“Okay.” I looked at her, taking in her delicate profile as she made notes in her calendar. She was prettier than I’d initially thought, with soft features and creamy skin. She reminded me of old-fashioned ice cream sundaes and drive-in movies, which made no fucking sense, but that’s what came to mind when I looked at her.
“You, um, want to start now?” she asked quietly.
“Sure.” I pulled the textbook and a notebook out of my backpack and set them on the desk. If studying meant I got to spend more time with her, I was all in.
We talked and studied for the next hour, with her patiently explaining basic statistics concepts and me fighting to stay on task instead of asking her to go out on a date with me. I wasn’t sure why it was so important, but I had to know if this magnetism between us was real or me just being a horndog.
“Are you going to the game tonight?” I asked when we started packing up. I had to start getting ready to go, no matter how much I wanted to continue hanging out with Ellie.
“Game?” She looked blank.
“The hockey game. You know, the team I’m the captain of. We’re playing at home tonight.”
“Oh.” She shook her head. “I don’t go to many. I’m usually studying.”
“But you could go to one, right? I mean, as my tutor, you show me how good you are at academics. It’s only fair you get to see what I’m good at.”
4
Ellie
I had a feeling he was good at a lot more than hockey, and the way he’d been looking at me made me a tiny bit uncomfortable and a whole lot excited. Uncomfortable because no one had ever looked at me like that before—as if he wanted to see inside of me—and excited because, well, no one had ever looked at me like that before. No one tall and blue-eyed and muscular. No one funny and strong with a warm voice and an easy, infectious laugh. He made me smile. It was weird, because we barely knew each other and I was a nerd of epic proportions, but he wasn’t looking at me like a guy who thought I was dorky.
“I, um, I guess I could,” I finally responded when I realized he’d been waiting for me to answer.
“Don’t sound so glum,” he said, laughing. “It’ll be fun.”
“I know, but I don’t want to go by myself.” I wrinkled my nose. “Maybe I could get my friend Harley to come with me. Let me see what she’s doing.”
I sent her a quick text and hoped she’d go with me. We hadn’t been friends for long but she was fun and easy-going so she might be up for it.
“I really have to go,” he said, standing up and throwing his backpack over his very broad shoulders. “But let’s find each other after the game, okay? We can go get a coffee or something and you can tell me what you thought.”
“I, um, cool.” Holy shit, was he asking me out on a date?
“I’ll see you later, Ellie.” He reached out and squeezed my shoulder. “This was way more fun than I ever thought statistics could be.”
“I’ll do my best to keep it that way,” I said, my shoulder burning from where he’d touched me.
“See you tonight.” He winked and then turned and moved toward the exit.
Harley and I got to the arena early. Mostly because I wanted to check everything out and get a feel for what it was going to be like. I knew less than nothing about hockey, so I’d spent a couple of hours devouring everything I could find online about the sport. Not to mention videos on YouTube that featured Patrick freakin’ Graham. You didn’t have to know anything about hockey to see how gorgeous he was on the ice. His movements were smooth and fluid, but filled with speed and strength. Hockey was actually two sports in one, I realized, the game itself coupled with ice skating.
I could ice-skate, but definitely not like Patrick. It was as if he became one with the ice, and with each subsequent video I’d watched, I’d become that much more enthralled with him. Of course, he was also a huge deal among up-and-coming hockey players. He’d been in the top ten draft picks overall the year he’d been chosen by the team in Las Vegas. I didn’t know much about how all of it worked, but it was a big deal.
“I can’t believe we’re going to a hockey game,” Harley grumbled as we walked into the rink. “You hate sports.”
“But I like Patrick,” I pointed out.
“But why do I have to be here?”
“Because you’re my friend?”
She laughed. “Okay, fine.”
The arena was huge and we looked around, impressed. I felt kind of bad that I’d never been to a hockey game before, but I’d been fifteen when I’d gotten here and had been pretty intimidated by everything. Mostly, I hunkered down in my room and studied. My mom had made sure I didn’t have any fun either, keeping tabs on me and showing up at my dorm room at all hours since she’d worked here my first year on campus. She’d calmed down once I’d been here for a year or so, but she still tried to control my life. Even now that I was a legal adult.
“Let’s go down to the ice and watch them warm up,” Harley suggested, heading in that direction.
I followed amiably since I figured it was as good an idea as any.
The team was on the ice, skating around, shooting the puck into the goal. My research told me Patrick wore the number fifty-one, and I scanned the jerseys, looking for him.
And there he was.
I’d liked him better with his hair long and with a beard, but he was gorgeous no matter what. Dark hair that was now cropped close to his head, blue eyes that made me a little weak in the knees, and though they were covered by his uniform now, I knew how well his shoulders filled out a Henley. I seemed to recall a great backside too, but I was trying not to think about that.
As a nineteen-year-old virgin, I had no business checking him out in such great physical detail, but I couldn’t seem to help it. I’d thought of little else since the party two weeks ago, and seeing him earlier today had been epic. I’d been somewhat tongue-tied, as was usual with me when it came to guys, but he’d just kept staring at me and I’d had this strange urge to touch him. Not inappropriately, but to run my hands over the bulge of his biceps. Maybe across his flat stomach and—okay, that was a little inappropriate, but I’d never been in a situation like this where I was pretty sure the hottest guy I’d ever met liked me. Especially since it turned out he was the identical twin of my friend Paxton. The long hair and beard had thrown me off, and now I felt a little silly, but there was no mistaking the pull between us that was way different than anything I’d ever felt with Paxton.
I wasn’t delusional, of course. Patrick was probably just looking to get me naked, but that was okay at this point in my life. My mother had kept me on such a tight leash, all I wanted was to taste a little freedom. If Patrick Graham could assist me in that endeavor, who was I to say no?
I was so lost in thought I almost missed him skating up to the glass and stopping, his eyes meeting mine. Those damn blue eyes of his. They were fixed on me and I was mesmerized. I think I smiled, but until he winked and skated away, I was pretty much rooted to the spot.
“Dude.” Harley elbowed me, hard.
“Ow!” I turned to her in confusion. “What’d you do that for?”
“You were practically drooling. At least play a little hard to get.”
I scowled. “I wouldn’t even know how. Let’s go find our seats.”
The game was exciting as hell and when Patrick scored the first goal of the night, I was on my feet, screaming at the top of my lungs. I’d never been excited about a sporting event in my life, but this was different. It was fast-paced and exhilarating, and adding Patrick to the mix made it that much better.
“Okay, this was cooler than I thought,” Harley admitted as we headed out of the arena with the crowd. “It was a little hard to follow the puck, but I definitely want to come to another one.”
“Me too,” I agreed.
“So you meeting up with your new boyfriend?”
“We’re just friends,” I said, though my face felt a little hot. I’d never had a boyfriend so I wasn’t completely sure how I’d define it. Hell, I’d only gone out on a handful of real dates and they’d all been disasters.
“But are you meeting up with him?”
“He said we would.” I dug in my pocket as my phone buzzed, and I saw a text from Patrick.
PATRICK: Are you still here?
ELLIE: I’m here!
PATRICK: Meet me in front of the arena in thirty minutes. I’ll find you.
ELLIE: See you then.
I turned to Harley. “I guess we’re meeting in half an hour.”
“Okay, cool. Then I’m gonna head home because I have a hot date.”
“You do?” My eyes widened. “With who? You didn’t tell me you had a date!”
“He just texted. I met him in my accounting class this week. He’s kinda dorky but has a great body. We’ll see.”
“Sounds interesting.”
“I’ll keep you posted,” Harley said as we walked toward the exit. “But as for you, don’t go giving up your V-card on the first date!”
I laughed. “He’s probably not even interested in me and is just being nice to get a discount on tutoring or something. Don’t worry. I’m kinda desperate but not desperate enough to make a fool of myself.”
“Just have fun, Ellie.” In a rare moment of sincerity, Harley turned to me, her dark eyes searching my face. “You let your mom and professors and everyone else put so much pressure on you—do something for yourself for once. Even if he’s just looking for a free tutoring ride or whatever, he’s the captain of the hockey team. He’s hotter than the Mohave in July. You say he’s nice. What else is there, and honestly, what do you have to lose? Enjoy it. One date, friendship, whatever it is.”
“I’m going to try,” I said softly.
Patrick found me twenty minutes later, coming from inside the arena. He had that same lighthearted smile on his face he’d had when we first met, even while his eyes blazed with intensity.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hi!” I was a little breathless just looking at him and letting it sink in that he’d come to me, so I continued without missing a beat. “The game was amazing! I loved it. Watching you fly down the ice… There are no words for how cool it is. How do you do that?”
He seemed almost sheepish as he shrugged. “Dunno. Been skating and playing hockey my whole life. It’s what I do. Kind of like how you do science.”
Our eyes met and I bit my lip. “Well, it’s cool as shit.”
“Thanks.”
“Thanks for inviting me. I had a great time.”
“I’m glad.” He paused. “So, you want to do something now? Go to a party? I know of one happening. Or maybe someplace quieter where we can talk? We could even go into town if you want to get an Uber.”
“I have a car,” I replied. “But I’m only nineteen, so not old enough to drink, which means we’re limited on where we can go if we go into Burlington, but I’m game for just about anything.”
“What about Tito’s?”
Tito’s Wood-Fired Pizza was a local place that served delicious Detroit-style deep-dish pizza.
“Oh, yum, pizza…” I nodded enthusiastically. “I skipped dinner, so that sounds good.”
He offered me his elbow and I stared at it for a fraction of a second until I realized what he was doing and my heart skipped at least three beats. This was the equivalent of holding hands, right? Dammit, why was I so inept at this kind of thing? He was looking down at me curiously and I couldn’t just stand here, so I slid my hand through his bent elbow as we started to walk.
“Why’d you skip dinner?” he asked.
“I was trying to get some homework done since I was going out tonight, and then it was late and I forgot.” I wasn’t going to admit I’d been too nervous to eat.
“You want to drive? It’s a bit of a walk from here.”
“Sure.” I closed my fingers around his forearm as we continued through the parking lot to my car.
I dug out my keys and Patrick got into the passenger seat.
“Pepperoni on your pizza?” he asked.
“And sausage,” I replied firmly.
“Girl after my own heart.”
Those words made me stupidly happy.
Girl after his own heart? Be still my heart.
5
Patrick
“I took a break from studying this afternoon to read up on the rules of hockey,” Ellie said once we were seated and had ordered. “I’m going to need you to explain icing to me because no matter how many times I read the definition, I couldn’t picture the reason for it in my head when I was watching the game.”
“You took a break and already learned enough about hockey to ask questions about different calls?” I shook my head.
“I…um, sorta have a photographic memory,” she said quietly, almost as if that embarrassed her. “I read a few articles for beginners so I wouldn’t be completely lost.”
I was more impressed than surprised since I already knew she was some kind of genius. It hadn’t come up before now, and I certainly wasn’t going to ask, but a photographic memory made sense. “Okay, so I think the easiest way to explain it is to tell you what it’s intended to prevent. Suppose your team was putting on a big offensive push and really controlling the puck. If the other team gets it for a second and just fires it all the way down the ice without any repercussions, then they can get a line change and all your hard work is for nothing.”
“But isn’t that the point? To stop the other team from scoring?”
“Yes, but not by giving the other team an easy way out. Your opponent has to carry the puck at least over the center red line or it would just be a free-for-all, sending it up and down the ice.”
“I see.” She nodded. “That makes more sense. I have other questions, but I’m thinking we’ll save offsides for another time.”
I laughed. “Or I can explain it now. Whatever you prefer.”
“I think I need to go to another game before I ask any more questions. That way, I’ll have specific questions to specific events that are fresh in both our minds.”
“I guess that means you’re coming to tomorrow night’s game too?”
“I think so.” Her eyes met mine. “If you want me to.”
“I do.” I sat back as our drinks arrived. She’d ordered a root beer and I had a cola. I didn’t drink much soda, but I could afford the calories and sugar after a game. Not to mention the five days a week I spent working out or practicing. It was a good thing I did, too, because I liked to eat.
Our food arrived then and I was glad for the distraction. The pizza here was awesome and the second the scent hit my nostrils, my stomach growled. They made both deep-dish and regular pizza, and they were all amazing. We’d gotten deep-dish and Ellie had already grabbed a piece.
“Do you eat here often?” Ellie was asking me as she lifted the first piece to her mouth.
“Not real often,” I said. “I try to eat better than this, so I stick to the dining hall where I can get salads and grilled chicken or fish. Diet’s an important part of playing at the level I do.”
“I’ll bet. Luckily, there are no
such restrictions in academia.” She lifted the pizza and opened her mouth, her tongue snaking out to circle a strand of melted cheese.
My zipper was suddenly uncomfortable as I imagined her doing other things with that tongue, and I quickly reached for my own slice of pizza, determined to distract myself. I took a bite and the flavor—all garlicky sauce and cheesy deliciousness—sent me down a more culinary path. That was probably good since Ellie appeared to be enjoying the hell out of hers.
Being on a date with someone who enjoyed her food was novel. Most women picked at their salads and drank too much, which had always been a turnoff for me. Of course, I didn’t go out on real dates very often. I’d only been on a handful since getting to Moo U, and that was by design because my plan was to be untethered until I went pro.
Watching my twin fall in love this past fall must have rubbed off on me or something, because no matter what Paxton thought, Ellie was absolutely my type. Maybe not the type I usually hooked up with, but the type I could picture myself with beyond a roll in the sack. That was the difference with her. The weird thing was that I’d technically only known her a day, the night we’d met notwithstanding, and now I wanted to sit here and talk to her all night. That was weird, right?
We ate in silence for a while and finally she sat back and motioned for the waitress to bring us refills on our drinks.
“I’m stuffed,” she said, “but it was so good. I could eat here every night and I don’t think I’d ever get sick of it.”
“Get sick of it? No. But I probably wouldn’t be able to skate for shit with all the weight I’d gain.”
She waved her hand. “Ah, whatever, you’d find ways to work it off.”
The moment she said it, our eyes met and hers widened.
“I didn’t mean it like that!” she said, before dissolving into giggles. Her face was bright red, which was both endearing and adorable, and I wondered if she was as innocent as she seemed.
