CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Dani
Game day was a series of shocking events.
For starters, Alec looked ridiculous when he picked me up for school. I opened the kitchen door and almost dropped dead from a heart attack. I opened my mouth but the only words that came out were “Where are your contacts?”
“Too tired to put them in,” he said, looking confused. “Why?”
What does “why” mean again?
I knew that the team dressed up for some game days, but they hadn’t for the last one. He’d worn joggers and a hoodie, for God’s sake, so I wasn’t prepared for this.
I hadn’t pictured him dressing up so… well.
Alec was wearing perfectly tailored black pants that somehow showed o how muscular his thighs were (or maybe that was just my foggy brain still shocked by the change in him). He had on a nice belt that matched his very stylish dress shoes, and the gray cashmere sweater he wore clung to his pectorals and amplied just how hard and wide his chest was.
And he was wearing glasses—dear Lord he looked good in those tortoiseshell frames. I remembered him getting contacts in sixth grade, but apparently he still wore glasses from time to time.
It wasn’t an exaggeration—it really wasn’t—to say he looked like he could be in a photo shoot for hot young businessmen, and it kind of freaked me out.
I wasn’t comfortablewith how attractive he was, and I could tell he’d noticed
me looking.
Dammit.
So I said, “Your mom has the best taste.”
“What?”
“I like your outt,” I said with a heavy dose of teasing condescension. “It looks like Mommy got you really nice church clothes.”
His mouth slid into an arrogant smirk and he shook his head. “I know I look good; don’t be a little shit.”
“So humble,” I muttered, going around his big body because I couldn’t look at him for another second. My cheeks were hot and I felt unaccountably nervous, and the feeling didn’t get any better when I nearly broke o the car
door handle.
I yanked, but it was still locked.
“Can you please unlock the door?” I asked with a sigh, glancing at him over my shoulder.
Only he was right there, much closer than I’d thought. My eyes met his, and a thousand images of him kissing me in that very driveway slammed into me.
It might’ve only lasted for mere seconds, but God, I could still feelhis big hands tangled in my hair and see the intensity in his dark eyes as he’d lowered his
face.
As his mouth had landed on mine.
He cleared his throat.
Gah!
I jumped a little and said, “God, it’s freezing out here.”
“Yeah, let’s go,” he said, unlocking the door and quickly walking over to the driver’s side.
I could feel the awkwardness between us.
Like every moment together was edged with tension.
Inated.
And I had no idea what to do with it.
Looking to talk about anything not lled with weirdness, I asked, “Are you excited about the game tonight?”
“Are you mocking me?” he asked as he started the car.
“No, I mean it,” I said, watching out the window as he backed out of the driveway and started driving. He was so serious about hockey that it had to stress him out. “How do you feel on game day? Are you excited or nervous?
Listening to pump-up music in your headphones while playing air guitar in the locker room—that sort of thing?”
He was rarely serious with me; he was either the obnoxious jock boy or a icker of silly little Alec, so I was surprised when he swallowed hard and his jaw clenched. There was something in his dark eyes when he said, “I think I’m more
stressed out when it’s not game day.”
“What? Really?”
“I can control my game, so I can’t wait for that,” he said. “Everything else is out of my hands, but when I get out there, it’s all up to me, so I’m just counting down the hours.”
He looked uncomfortable, like he was thinking unhappy thoughts, and I realized it was probably because I was sounding too interested.
I couldn’t have him thinking I was a hockey groupie or something, so I said, “This morning my mom told me she’s going to the game tonight, and when I asked her why, thinking she felt like she had to go just because I’m sitting on the bench lming, do you know what she said?”
“I’m sure it was brilliant,” he murmured, which made me roll my eyes because he’d always adored my mom.
“She said that she’s going to the hockey game to support the team. That she plans on going to every hockey game for the rest of this season,” I said, shaking my head. “That she plans on going to the Cro before the game tonight because apparently the parents all go there beforehand.”
That made his mouth turn up into a grin. “Why do you seem annoyed by this? This is what all the hockey parents do every game day.”
“But she’s not a hockey parent,” I said. “Her daughter is a manager just to get the extra-credit points.”
“Have you ever considered that maybe it doesn’t actually have to do with
you?” he asked.
I ipped him o.
“No, seriously,” he said, giving me a little head shake. “It’s a Southview thing.
Like, everybody here goes to the hockey games—they just do. And since your mom grew up here, I’m sure she probably spent her whole life going to them.”
“I suppose,” I said, wondering why I hadn’t thought of that.
All of this was what she’d grown up around; I just couldn’t imagine.
The Doug felt very dierent on game night.
The place was electric, packed to the rafters, with music playing, a rowdy student section, and adults everywhere dressed in maroon and white.
Alec was right—it was a community thing.
I set up the camera, and as I waited for everything to start, I was a little shocked by the number of familiar faces I already knew. We’d justmoved there, so it was wild that I recognized anyone at all.
But I could see all the guys who’d been at Alec’s house the night we got to Southview, sitting with people I assumed were their wives and children. And all the adults who’d been at Vinny’s the night before were sitting together—the hockey parents—and that group looked just as rowdy as the student section.
I could see my mom, sitting beside Sarah, Big John, and the twins (who were wearing adorable little number-seven hockey jerseys), and she looked like she was one of them, like she’d always been a part of this.
I forced my eyes in the other direction, not sure how I felt about that.
Because it looked right for her, if I was being honest, like this was where she was supposedto be, but that felt disloyal to my dad, the one who’d taken her away from all this.
My dad, who’d texted me twice since our call, and I’d yet to respond.
Dad: We still need to have that conversation—please text me your availability, kiddo.
Dad: I’d appreciate a response. I AM the one paying for your phone, Daniella.
I knew I needed to respond, but every time I tried, I ended up writing multiple paragraphs that I ultimately deleted because I knew he’d nd them too
emotional.
And I was too scared to call him.
Man, I’m losing it.
Thankfully, when the puck dropped, I had no choice but to snap out of my own head.
Because the game was unreal. It was a lightning-fast back-and-forth that had me on the edge of my seat, my eyes struggling to keep up with the speed of that
little black puck.
And Alec was a sight to behold.
If he was intense at practice, he was sublimein a game. He was insanely physical with the other team, slamming into players as he got his stick in there and fought for the puck like his life depended on it. He got sent to the penalty box twice, although the crowd denitely thought the second time was unwarranted.
My heart was in my throat, and I felt a little emotional—in a good way— while watching him kick ass on the ice.
I was proud of my little friend Alec, who was a certied hockey god.
Southview won by two, and Alec had two assists—in addition to a goal that made me scream so loud my throat hurt.
I’d never had so much fun watching a sporting event in my entire life.
Who was I turning into?
After the game, I found my mom near the locker room with Sarah, Big John, the twins, and a couple of John’s friends.
“What’d you think of your rst game, kid?” Big John asked, and I found it adorable how huge his smile was. My entire life he’d always reminded me of a happy Santa, and this was no exception. “That was one hell of a match.”
“I kind of loved it,” I admitted. “And Alec was amazing. It’s tough to reconcile the kid who used to take three naps a day with this badass hockey player.”
“One day he was wasting hours of his life playing video games,” Sarah said, her arms full of the big blanket she was holding, “and the next he wanted to
spend every waking moment on the ice.”
“So are you his lucky charm?”
A tiny woman with cute brown eyes and curly black hair—and the most adorable northern accent—asked the question, and she was giving me a sweet smile.
I looked at the guy next to her and remembered them—Ellen and Gary. Big John’s parents, Alec’s grandparents.
“We’ve been talking about how this season he’s playing better than he ever has,” she said. “So we’re wondering if maybe that’s because of you.”
Wow—news traveled fast. I was pretty sure Grandma Ellen’s timeline was o, but it tipped in our favor, so I’d take it.
I looked at Sarah and John and my mom and they were allwatching me with cheesy smiles.
“I think he’s just really good at hockey,” I said, shrugging, because I didn’t know what else to do.
“Yeah, there is that,” my mom said, throwing me a wink.
Players started coming out of the locker room, and I couldn’t help but think how sweet it was the way everyone’s parents were waiting around to say “good job.”
There were also a couple of news reporters, standing on the edges of the crowd, and they denitely started lming when Alec walked out.
But dear God, my heart ipped all the way over when he exited the locker room, looking somehow better in his dress clothes postgame—with shower- dampened hair—than he had before. His gaze landed on me, and his mouth slid into a smile that was dangerously swoony.
Oh no.
What is happening to me?
He didn’t glance at anyone else as he headed straight in my direction, dark
brown eyes all over my face.
Pull it together, Collins!
“Want me to take your stu?” John asked, his voice bringing me back from the Alec-only universe I’d drifted away to.
“Nah, I’m going to go home and change before heading out,” Alec said.
Everyone started talking hockey then, gushing about how great Alec had played while also trash-talking the referees, and I just watched the show.
I’d always rolled my judgmental eyes about the jocks at every school I attended, walking around with their chests all pued up because they knew how to throw a ball really far.
But I’d never thought about their parents.
Or their uncles.
Or their neighbors.
I looked around, and little groupings were all over the place, people bunched around their respective hockey player. Moms dressed from head to toe in Southview gear, dads laughing with their buddies—it was… not at all how I thought it would be.
Was this a hockey thing or a Southview thing?
“You goin’ to Richie’s?” Big John asked.
“Yeah,” Alec said before those deep brown eyes found mine. “You should come to Richie’s, Collins. I’m sure Cassie’ll be there.”
Everyone had been so welcoming and Cassie was great, but why did I suddenly feel like maybe I didn’t belong? Why do I feel nauseous?
“I think I’m just going to head back with you,” I said to my mom. “Maybe next time.”
“Well we’re stopping at the PNA on the way home,” she said, obviously trying to nudge me to nd another ride, “so it might be a while.”
“What’s a PNA?”
“The Polish Lodge,” Mom said.
The Polish Lodge. First the Croatian Hall, now the Polish Lodge.
I’m pretty sure we’re of Irish and German descent, Mom.
But I didn’t ask any more questions as I piled into a truck with a bunch of adults, watching Alec leave, part of me wanting to go with him to wherever he was going but scared I’d regret it if I did.
Instead I was left regretting my current choice minutes later as I followed Big
John toward a stucco-looking house.
What the…?
I had doubts, but then my mom grabbed my arm and said, “Prepare to be wowed.”
We followed Big John through a side door and went down the stairs, and…
well, it was like a dive bar.
In a basement.
There was a bar with beer taps and TVs on the wall, a pool table, and darts,
but also—it was a basement.
A basement packed full of people.
At least it’s warm, I thought, walking with my mom as Sarah and Big John led us to a table and started taking o their coats.
“Am I allowed to be here?” I asked. “As a minor?”
“As long as you’re not drinking or serving,” John said. “Now tell Sarah what you want to drink so I can tell you all about this place.”
“Must you?” I teased.
“You’re a Southview girl now, so yes—I must,” he teased back.
I am not a Southview girl, I thought. I am a nowhere girl.
But a tiny part of me wished I were a Southview girl.
John leaned a little closer so I could hear him over the noise, and launched into a history lesson as if we weren’t in just a bar. He told me all about how in the early 1900s, a large Polish immigrant population arrived in town, drawn to jobs in big meatpacking plants. They built the social hall as a place to get together for drinks after a hard week, and to have things like weddings and funerals.
“The Cro’s got a similar history,” he said, sounding like all this was personally important to him, and I wondered if Alec felt the same way.
I mean, he did seem to read history books for fun.
“But for the Croatian immigrants, yes?”
He grinned. “You got it, kid.”
The funny thing was that Big John’s little story made me look at the dive bar a little dierently. It’d been a long time since 1911, and I was pretty sure there were no more meatpacking plants in Southview.
Which meant that all these people at the PNA had kept the place alive by choice.
In a metropolis full of trendy bars and restaurants, this community chose to celebrate their win at the tiny historic bar in the middle of their neighborhood.
Why do I find that charming as hell?
“Well, hi, Dani,” I heard, and when I turned around, it was Jessie Osman, the coach’s wife, whom I’d met at the team dinner but hadn’t really talked to.
And standing beside her, but talking to someone at the moment, was Coach Oz himself.
I immediately felt panicked, because I’d actively avoided eye contact with the man after he’d seen me groping his half-naked defenseman.
“Hi,” I said, clearing my throat.
“How’s it going?” she asked. “Getting all settled at Southview?”
“Yes,” I said, though it was kind of a yell because the place was so crowded and noisy.
“Alec played great,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning closer. “Where is he?”
Shit. Had he said he was going to Richie’s, or to Kyle’s? I seriously couldn’t remember, but his actual girlfriend would know, right? “Um, he’s hanging out
with some of his teammates.”
“Where’s Zeus?” the coach yelled to me.
He obviously hadn’t heard my answer to his wife’s question, and I was even more scared to answer him than I was to answer her. I didn’t know who knew what about anything, but since our act was for the audience of hockey people, I didn’t want to mess up.
“Richie’s,” his wife said to him, apparently more in the know than me about which teammates were having people over postgame.
“Ah,” he said, nodding.
“So I’m curious,” she said, narrowing her eyes and smiling. “I heard that you two are old family friends, but how did that turn into dating?”
“Um.” I cleared my throat again, wishing I had any idea what details Alec had given his coach about our fake relationship.
“Yeah, I’d actually really love to hear this,” Big John said with a huge grin, his mischievous eyes looking a lot like Alec’s as he crossed his arms and waited for my response. “Because one day you hadn’t even seen each other yet, and the next you’re FaceTiming at all hours of the night.”
“Collins!”
I looked toward the door as Alec and his friends walked in.
Thank God.
He was grinning as he cut through the people, laughing at something some old guy in an I’M MORE SOUTHVIEW THAN YOUT-shirt said as he passed, and as I
watched him work his way in our direction, it occurred to me that he looked like he belonged in that basement bar.
Like he was part of it, like he was somehow related to every one of those people who chose to spend their Friday night together in a basement where a mural of Poland was painted on the cement-block wall.
And I was jealous.
I was always jealous, at a base level, of people who’d lived in the same place their entire lives and didn’t have to move every few years, but this was dierent.
Because I’d lived most of my life in an isolated family of three.
I liked my little trio (and was struggling at the moment to deal with its dissolution), but seeing Alec move about in this community, where it felt like every adult was his fun uncle, teasing him like they’d always been in his life and genuinely cared about his well-being, made me wish I knew what that felt like.
“Hey,” he said when he reached my side, giving me a questioning grin, like he was wondering what I could possibly be saying to his coach.
“Hey, yourself,” I replied, snaking my arms around his right bicep and giving him what I hoped looked like a girlfriendy grin. “Your timing is perfect, because Mrs. Oz was just asking me how we went from old childhood friends to dating.”
“Yeah?” He grinned down at me like he liked this, though I wasn’t sure which this he might like,to be honest.
“Yeah,” I said. “And I want to hear your version.”
“I bet you do,” he said, and then he winked. “But the best things in life should be kept secret.”
I wanted to roll my eyes so badly as all the adults laughed at him, but I didn’t.
And then he kissed the top of my head.
I gasped because what the hell, but thankfully the room was so loud that no one heard it.
Alec’s eyes shot to mine and were unreadable as he watched me, and I cleared my throat and tried to look calm.
But I was shaken up by the fact that his stupid little kiss, all part of the act,
had felt natural.
Like it was something he’d done before.
Which he hadn’t, right?
God, I’m losing it!
“I wonder if you still suck at darts,” I said abruptly, desperately needing to untangle myself from him and get a little breathing space.
“You little shits used to ll my wall with holes when you played with my metal-tipped darts,” Big John said with a laugh.
“I wonder if you’re still a sore loser,” Alec replied, the cautiousness in his gaze disappearing. “Come on.”
He grabbed my hand and led me over to the dartboards, and when we stopped, he turned and asked, “Do you actually want to play darts, or were you looking for a rescue?”
“Oh my God, Alec, I was freaking out,” I said, letting out my breath. “When his wife started asking me to tell the story of us and I had no idea what you’d actually already said, I was convinced I was going to blow the whole thing.”
“Well then, I’m glad I showed up just in time,” he said.
“Yeah, why are you here?”
“Richie’s brother kicked us out.”
“Oh,” I said.
“Do you want to play?” He gestured toward the dartboards.
“I’m in,” Richie said, suddenly beside us.
“Me too,” said Cassie, popping up next to him.
“Yeah, same,” Kyle said, and then it was set.
Apparently we were all going to play darts.
I took o my jacket and put it on the back of a chair, feeling slightly unsettled by how social this suddenly felt. I’d purposely left with my mom to avoid this very scenario, for God’s sake.
But once we started playing, it was surprisingly fun.
Ridiculously fun.
Alec’s friends seemed to be addicted to gambling, because they couldn’t play a single game without wagering something. At rst it was a couple of bucks, plus they kept buying tickets for a meat rae (a bizarre fundraiser that’s apparently common in Minnesota in which people try to win a package of meat) when the board came around, but then they all agreed that they didn’t have any more money to throw away.
So they started betting absurd things.
Loser of the next game has to take a sip out of someone’s drink without them noticing.
Loser of the next game has to do a cartwheel.
Loser of the next game has to freestyle dance for two minutes without stopping.
Alec lost that one just as my grandpa walked in.
And yes—he stared at Alec like he was a moron.
I couldn’t stop cackling as Alec continued dancing, his cheeks red, and my grandpa continued scowling at him.
“I ocially request that someone kill me,” he said when he walked back over to the table where I was sitting with his friends, “because my soul has already left my body.”
“I cannot believe you just danced for Mick Fucking Boche,” Richie said.
“Yeah, I denitely want him to forget he ever saw that,” Alec said, shaking his head.
My phone lit up from where it was sitting in the center of the table, and every single person in our group looked at it as the words BEN WORTHINGTON showed up on the screen.
“You’re getting a text from Worthington?” Vinny said, looking at me like I’d just gotten a text from Ted Bundy.
“What the hell is that about?” Kyle said, looking at Alec.
“No—he’s my next-door neighbor,” I said defensively. “Sometimes. I mean, he lives with his mom most of the time—”
“That doesn’t explain why he’s texting you,” Vinny said.
“It really doesn’t,” Alec said, looking… so serious all of a sudden.
“Wait—how do you guys even know him?” I asked Vinny. “He goes to school at—”
“St. John’s. Yeah, he’s a fucking Cadet, we know,” Richie said.
“Everyone hates Ben,” Cassie said, as if that explained everything.
“Feel free to read the message,” Alec said to me, his face very unreadable (but denitely not happy). “Go ahead.”
The entire group was watching me like they suspected me of… something.
“You guys, my mom made me put his number in my contacts, but I don’t ever
text with Benji—”
“You should read it,” Cassie said, “so it doesn’t drive these guys nuts. They reallyhate Ben. We all do, after what he did.”
“What’d he do?” I asked.
“Nothing,” Alec said. “It doesn’t matter.”
I could tell it absolutely did matter, but I could also tell no one was going to share because Alec had told them not to. I grabbed my phone and held it out to Cassie. “You can read it. I honestly barely know the guy.”
She gave me a look that said good movebefore taking my phone and reading his text aloud. “‘FYI big party in Mendota Heights tonight. I’ll drop the address if you and your friends are looking for something to do.’”
“Gross,” Kyle said.
“Can I respond?” Richie asked with a grin. “Pretty please?”
“I’m on it,” Cassie said, reading out loud as she texted: “‘No thanks, too busy celebrating with our hockey boys.’ And… send.”
And that was it. The group went back to their silly games instead of looking at me like I was colluding with Satan.
“Okay, all or nothing,” Cassie said. “Loser of this last one is at the mercy of the winner of this game.”
Everyone let out a collective “oooh,” as if this was a verybig deal.
All I knew was that I did notwant to be the loser.
And I wasn’t.
But my fake boyfriend was not so lucky.
He was the loser, and Richie the Obnoxious was the winner.
“Zeus, Zeus, Zeus,” Richie said, grinning as he looked at Alec.
I giggled.
Which made Richie look at me.
His mischievous grin kicked up a little higher as he looked back and forth between the two of us, and a niggling of unease settled into the pit of my stomach.
“I dare you to kiss her for thirty seconds,” he said to Alec, pointing at me.
“Right here, right now.”
“What?” I said, or kind of squealed, actually.
No. No. No. No. No. NO.
“How is that a punishment?” Alec said casually, as if he really were my boyfriend and didn’t understand the stupid request. “I actually like kissing her, and though I appreciate you thinking of me, I don’t understand why you’d choose this as my punishment.”
He was so cool that I almost believed his act.
But gahhhhhhh what the hell what the hell??
I’d barely recovered from the driveway kiss, and that had only lasted for a heartbeat.
I wasn’t sure my heart could take a real kiss.
Also, I was notabout PDA.
No, thank you.
Richie said, “I dare you to kiss her right here—”
“Yes, I got that part,” Alec interrupted.
“—where you are directly in a certain someone’s line of sight.”
The entire group turned their heads in unison and saw my grandpa sitting at the table just behind ours, his chair directly facing us.
“Where Mick Boche can see you,” Richie said, smiling like he was supremely proud of himself.
“No way,” Alec said denitively, looking oended by the suggestion. “I don’t have a death wish.”
“But you lost,” Richie said. “Rules are rules.”
“I don’t care, I’m not doing it,” Alec insisted, which I understood, but it also made me feel a little rejected for no intelligent reason whatsoever.
“Come on, you wimp,” Kyle said quietly. “What do you think is going to happen—he’s going to punch you in the face? You played your ass o tonight, and we need you for the postseason. He won’t do dick.”
“So why do you want me to do it, then, Kyle?” Alec asked. “Why do you care?”
I expected Kyle to say to show you have big balls or something stupidly macho, but he said with the utmost sincerity, “Because you’ve never reneged on a game challenge before. Can’t start now. Not sure why you’re even questioning it, to be honest.”
Kyle’s eyebrow rose, and Alec’s mouth closed as if what Kyle said was worthy of consideration.
“Zeus doesn’t back out on anything. Hasn’t ever. Period. Aren’t you worried about messing up the team’s mojo?” Richie pressed on.
As if that reaction weren’t weird enough, the rest of the group all nodded as if this was something important that needed to be factored in.
And they collectively said, “Ooh.”
“Wait. What does that mean?” I asked.
“Zeus here, our captain, hasn’t reneged on a game challenge the entire time we’ve been undefeated,” Kyle explained. “He can’t start now when we’re looking at the tournament. When we have a legitimate shot at nally going all the way.”
“It’s true,” Cassie added. “We’ve made the state tournament more than any other team in the state. For years. And now the odds are in our favor.”
Why is it suddenly getting so heavy in here? I looked at the group around me —their faces were as serious as ever.
“You aren’t kidding, are you?” I said, glancing back and forth between Alec, who wouldn’t meet my eyes, and his friends, who were staring me down as if my decision was of the utmost importance.
“She doesn’t have to do it,” Alec said to his friends, but he wasn’t smiling. He looked… uncomfortable as he threw me a lifeline.“Seriously.”
I wanted to laugh, because it was ridiculous the way they were all behaving as if this were a logical concern. But I couldn’t, because Alec’s face was all tension as he watched me, and also my stomach was lling with raucous butteries at the thought of what the punishment entailed.
Kissing Alec.
For thirty seconds.
Here and now.
I must’ve waited too long to answer, because he glanced at me, swallowed, then said, “We’re not doing it.”
My mind was racing, my heart beating fast. Alec’s eyes were pleading, and my whole face felt like it was on re. And before my brain could stop my lips from moving, I heard the words “I think we have to” escape from my mouth.
Ohhhhh, holy shit, we were doing it.
