Shut Out (Bayard Hockey #1)(38)
“We have another game on Friday night. It’s the first game of the regular season. Will you come again?”
I want to. “I’ll see if I can find someone to come with me.” Ella will probably agree. Maybe I should see if Natalie and Brooklyn want to come too.
“Okay.” He leans down and kisses my cheek, which is sweet and hot. My girl parts squeeze, wanting more.
I watch him walk away, his long legs taking big strides, moving with perfect athletic male grace, his shoulders wide and strong. So I guess we just had our first fight in our fake relationship, and we didn’t even get to have make-up sex.
Maybe that would happen this weekend. I remember how turned on I got watching him play hockey. If that happens again, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop myself from jumping him.
Chapter 14
Jacob
Before every game, I get nervous.
Last summer, there were two NHL players at the camp I went to and I talked to them about it. They said they still get nervous before every game too. So I guess it’ll never go away.
There was a sports psychologist at the camp too. We talked about pre-game jitters and why we have them, one reason possibly being because during an actual game we have an audience, and also possibly because we have such high expectations of success. We learned about self-talk and how the things we’re thinking can ramp up the tension even more. Like, if we’re doubting ourselves or afraid of failing. He told us to accept the nervous energy rather than fight it, because it’s normal, and we learned strategies to deal with it, like making sure to arrive early for a game so there’s lots of time to get ready, and doing some visualization. During the game, the trick is to focus on the moment and what’s happening right then, not on the mistake you just made and not on the outcome of the game. Just that moment.
Right now, I have the puck on my stick behind our own net. I look up the ice. Way up the ice. Buck is 120 feet away just outside the other blue line, but it’s a clear passing lane. I slam the puck toward him from behind the net and he catches the long pass perfectly, already moving, and crosses the blue line all alone. One of the Bulldogs is trying to catch him, but he can’t, and Buck pops the puck into the net over the goalie’s left shoulder.
Fuck yeah!
The crowd roars, Buck’s hands go in the air and he and Franco hug. I grin as I join them in the celebration.
That makes the score two nothing late in the third period, and I’ve assisted on both goals.
I sit on the bench, still smiling, and Buck pats my helmet. I pick up a water bottle and squirt some into my mouth, then spit it out.
The puck drops at center ice and I watch Jimmy win the face-off, then lose the puck to the Bulldogs. They get a chance on net that Alfie stops, but the rebound comes out. Fear bolts through me and there’s a scramble for the loose puck, but Jimmy gets it and the play moves to the other end. Then we’re changing and I’m back out there. I glance at the clock as I barrel over the boards and join the play. Barks has the puck behind our net to give us time to change lines. He passes it to Franco, who passes it to me, and we start off up the ice toward the Bulldogs’ net. I get some speed, the puck on my stick, aware of Buck and Franco with me as this becomes a three on two. I thread through the two Bulldogs D-men, assessing the shooting lane, assessing the angles. There’s no lane, I’m too far now to shoot the puck, but Franco is right there, in front of the net, so I throw it to him. He catches it and buries the puck in the net behind the goalie. The red light goes on, the horn blares, and the crowd cheers as Franco skates at me and throws his arms around me.
“Yeah!” he yells. “Nice pass!”
We skate by the bench and bump gloves with the other guys. Only a minute left in the game and I think it’s safe to say we’ve got this one. We watch Jimmy kill time with the puck as the clock runs down and then the horn sounds to end the game. We all pile over the boards and skate down to Alfie, our goalie, to congratulate him on the win. Not only a win, a shutout.
It’s our third game of the season and we’ve won them all.
In the dressing room, music is pumping, and the mood is jubilant. Coach actually cracks a smile. I pull off my jersey and shoulder pads in front of my cubby.
“How do you find those plays, man?” Franco asks me, shaking his head.
I shrug.
“You two were skating circles around their D all night,” Buck says. “Fucking A.”
It’s hard to describe the feeling inside me, the relief and joy and satisfaction that mingles. This team is good. The Bulldogs were good too. Notwithstanding the score, they tested us. I was worried about what it was going to be like playing college hockey, afraid it wouldn’t be a challenge for me, but it is, and it’s a challenge I’m up for.
I let out a long breath as I walk naked to the shower, still buzzing with victory, and in more ways than one. Because not only do I have to win against the other team, I have to win over my teammates.
I think it’s happening.
After I shower and dress, I grab my phone to text Skylar, who was at the game. She’s come to all my home games. A bunch of the guys are going to Curly’s, a bar off campus. I hesitate about joining them. They tell me I don’t need an ID because they serve hockey players there without asking for ID, but I’m not sure if Skylar will want to come. I want to celebrate, but I don’t want to get in trouble.