Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 30514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 153(@200wpm)___ 122(@250wpm)___ 102(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 153(@200wpm)___ 122(@250wpm)___ 102(@300wpm)
The middle-aged couple next to us shot an amused glance at her. I wondered if they were Troy’s parents, or if Kendra got the lingo wrong. Anything was possible, I mused, stuffing my face with another bite of popcorn. I should have backed out. I’d never been more uncomfortable in my life, and that was saying something. I’d only been to one other game earlier in the season, but this was different. This felt…personal. And at the end of the day, I didn’t like getting too personal.
I had a case of butterflies and cold feet long before game time. It was so bad that I’d picked up Kendra fifteen minutes late instead of calling to beg out. Passive-aggressive much? See, it wasn’t that I didn’t want to watch Logan play. I did. But I didn’t want Logan to know I was there. I’d officially regressed to high-school-level lameness, and I couldn’t explain any of that to Kendra without giving her the full rundown of Friday night. That wasn’t going to happen. Ever.
So, I dutifully apologized when we were forced to climb to the upper-level bleachers, and I averted my gaze from the avid fans in the front rows…just in case one of them was Logan’s ex—though to be perfectly honest, I wasn’t sure I could pick Kelly out of a crowd. I remembered long blonde hair and a skimpy dress, but everything went hazy as soon as Logan entered the picture.
Like now. Actually…I couldn’t tell which one he was. Or if he was on the ice at all.
“How do you know who’s who?” I asked Kendra when she flopped beside me.
She helped herself to a handful of popcorn, then gestured at the players. “Our team is in the gold-and-black jerseys. Troy is the goalie. He’s in front of that tiny cage over there. Colby is number ten, Ramirez is seventeen, Logan is eight…”
Eight. I scanned the ice carefully until I found him. And the second I did, my heart did a funny flip. It didn’t make sense. I couldn’t see his face, and his body was literally covered from head to toe. Hockey uniforms didn’t do much to showcase the athlete’s abs or asses. They were all about protection. Nonetheless, my pulse raced when he rounded the cage and passed the puck to Colby. Players from both sides crowded the area, so I couldn’t really tell what was happening until Logan swatted the puck out of the melee and skated to the other side of the rink. Both teams followed him at breakneck speeds. And just as he pulled his stick back to either pass the puck or try to score, someone came from behind and shoved him. Hard.
Logan didn’t fall, but he got mad. Very mad.
He dropped his stick and went after the guy, pushing him into the wall and throwing a punch. I jumped to my feet before Kendra this time, spilling popcorn in my haste to watch the fight unfolding on the ice. I couldn’t see much from this angle…just swinging arms and ice shavings. The sharp sound of several whistles cut through the arena, but it took another few minutes to separate the players.
“What’s happening? Is Log—I mean, did anyone get hurt?” I asked.
“No one’s hurt, but Logan got a penalty. He’s out for a few minutes,” she said like a real know-it-all.
“Oh. That’s okay, right?”
“Not really. It gives the other team a power play. And it’s not fair because they started it.”
It was clear as mud, but I nodded anyway. I propped the box of popcorn between my thighs to wipe my damp palms on my jeans and settled back to watch the game. Correction…to watch Logan.
Observing him in his natural element was enlightening. His helmet and our terrible seats made it impossible to gauge his expression, but his intensity hinted at his competitive streak. Logan skated like a madman every time he was on the ice, aggressively going after the puck at lightning speed, then handing it off to a teammate or taking a shot at the goal thing himself. He didn’t score, but he looked like a freaking warrior out there. A no-nonsense, take-charge boss. I might not necessarily understand hockey, but I was glad I came.
However, I didn’t want to stay. I stood and stretched my arms over my head, casting one more look at the Long Beach boys celebrating their win on the ice below.
“Are you ready to go?” I asked, bumping Kendra’s knee.
“Not yet,” she replied distractedly.
I let the older couple sitting next to us pass before bending to her height. “It’s a Sunday night, Kenny. I have an assignment to finish and some reading to do. What are we waiting for?”
“Mmm. I want Troy to know I’m here. If we had better seats, he’d probably be able to see us. Let’s wait till the crowd up front leaves and—” Kendra shot off the bench and grabbed my arm. “Come on!”