“C’mon, Luka!” I screamed. “Get me a power play goal!”
Just as I yelled out to him, one of the offensive players passed the puck back to Jason at the blue line. He sent it across the ice to Luka, who wound back his stick and hit the shit out of it, sending it straight towards the goalie. I watched in amazement as the puck soared over the goalie’s shoulder and into the back of the net. I jumped to my feet and screamed wildly, celebrating his goal.
“Holy shit, that boy has one hell of a slap shot!” Lucy crowed as we both bounced up and down with excitement.
There was only about one more minute left, and we watched as the ref dropped the puck. Our guys kept control of it while that last minute wound down, and then the buzzer sounded.
Luka skated back to the bench and stopped to look up at me. Taking a page from Lucy’s book, I threw him a kiss. He reached up and pretended to grab it, making me laugh, before he skated off the ice to join his team in the locker room.
“Wanna wait downstairs with me until our guys are ready to go?” Lucy asked.
“That would be great,” I answered. “I have no idea where to go or how long it will take. Just like I had no idea what hockey was all about. Thanks so much for taking me under your wing tonight.”
“Are you kidding me?” she scoffed. “This is the most fun I’ve had a game in like…well, forever! Why don’t we trade numbers so you can let me know whenever you’d like to go to another game? I’d love to sit with you again.”
“How about you sell me your extra seat and I’ll just come to all of them?” I asked.
“Oh, you don’t need to do that. I’ve already got the seats and you really are welcome to join me for the rest of the season if you’d like.”
“Okay, but only if you let me buy our drinks and snacks from here on out,” I countered.
“Deal,” she said, and we shook on it before going outside to wait for the guys.
chapter 8
luka
I’d enjoyed looking up in the stands to see Aubrey cheering me on all night, but walking out of the rink to the sight of Aubrey resting against my car and talking to Alex’s girlfriend was fucking incredible. She looked insanely hot tonight, and each time I looked up, I couldn’t help but be satisfied that she was mine. I hadn’t planned for her to overhear me calling her my girlfriend this morning. Hell, I hadn’t even planned to call her that, but it’s the way I’d been thinking of her in my head ever since we started dating. If Jason hadn’t pissed me off, the whole conversation wouldn’t have happened. I guessed I owed him one since it meant that I’d been able to pin Aubrey down to a commitment.
Most guys would be scared shitless about being in a serious relationship so soon after the clusterfuck that had happened with Kat. Hell, sometimes I figured I was nuts to even consider it, but there was just something about Aubrey that pulled me in. It was so very different from how my relationship with Kat had grown over time and developed into us dating. It reminded me a little of the tortoise and the hare fairytale my mother used to love when we were little children, only in reverse. It was one of the first children’s books they had bought us that was written in English, and she read it to us over and over, trying to make sure we understood that life was a marathon and not a sprint.
In this case, it seemed the opposite was true since my marathon with Kat had ended badly, but I felt like I was sprinting towards a goal with Aubrey and I was going to win. She was the prize at the end of the finish line, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to let anyone else win her. And based on the way she leapt into my arms as soon as I reached my car, she didn’t want anyone else other than me anyway.
“You blew me away tonight,” she whispered in my ear. “I had no idea hockey was so exciting.”
I gripped her ass in my palms as she wrapped her legs and arms around me and held on tight. “It was one hell of a game, especially with you in the stands.”
“Great job on the winning goal,” she congratulated me. “How cool is it that I got to see you score on the ice at my very first game?”
I set her down on the ground to pull a memento out of my pocket and pressed it into her palm. “Very cool. Coach even gave me the game puck.”
“Really?” she asked, looking down at it. “This was the puck you scored with?”
“Yup,” I answered. “And I want you to keep it.”
“But, Luka, you should have it. Not me. You may not score another game winning goal, and it’s your senior year,” she argued.