But the game wasn’t over yet.
The last minute of play had me pacing even faster—my heartbeat kicked up a hundred notches, my fists clenched tighter, my adrenaline ran hotter.
“Bring it home!” I shouted along with the guys on the bench. “We’ve got this!”
When the final buzzer blasted, I jumped up with my hands in the air and yelled as loudly and proudly as my players on the ice. Team Kallinger looked on in utter dissolution. I knew both sides, and while I celebrated our win, I nodded in conciliation to the opposing team. After I jumped back down from the bench and straightened my jacket and vest, that is.
Fucking hell, we’d done it. The Sutton U Cougars were national college champions.
For a second, it was likeIwas back on the ice, relieving those incredible highs. They were heady and addictive and made me want for things I could never have.
Never again.
Still, this was a big day for my team and for me. I’d take my wins now any way I could get them.
Confetti rained down on the ice, the music blasted, and the rink turned into a dance party. We lined up and shook hands with Kallinger’s team. Both sides played a stellar game and deserved recognition.
Then the jumbo screen lit up with the Sutton U logo, and there were so many flashes going on in front of me, I could barely see.
I knew what was coming next. I fully expected to get doused by a bucket of water or Gatorade.
What I didn’t expect was the champagne (presumably non-alcoholic). As soon as the initial shock of the win wore off, I got sprayed in the face. By Silas, no less.
Payback for sure.
My suit was drenched, my hair was a mess, and my eyelashes stuck together. But I couldn’t stop smiling, which, for me, was a huge deal. Most of the time I used the stern coach approach, since players at this age tended to be cocky as fuck and needed guidance, not a friend. But, given the magnitude of this win, I let myself relax. A little.
I wiped my sticky eyes and met Silas’s. His dark gaze was unnervingly direct, and I swallowed hard.
It’s the intensity of the win.The shock.
For once, both of us were grinning like loons.
“Sorry about the suit, Coach.”
I shook my head and removed my jacket. My vest was soaked through, and my white shirt sleeves were plastered to my arms.
“Don’t lie, Silas. You’re not sorry in the least.”
He bit his lower lip and shrugged, giving me a once over.
“Maybe I am,” he admitted and met my eyes again. “They’re not for me, but I’d hate to ruin your best outfit. It suits you, pun totally intended.”
His words almost seemed like… no. That was ridiculous. That wasn’t flirting.
Jesus, where the fuck did I get that bizarre idea?
The players weren’t the only ones who were dehydrated. I was obviously punch-drunk from the win, my adrenaline crashing.
A shiver ran through me, but hey, I was soaking wet and standing in a freezing cold rink, so…
“You played a great game,” I finally managed to reply, my mouth suddenly dry. “I can’t wait to see what you can do next season.”
I didn’t wait to around to watch Silas’s reaction.
Shaking off my weird mood, I stalked off to greet the organizers, and then it was time for the winners to pose for pictures. I managed to smooth my hair back, slipped my uncomfortably wet jacket back on, and stood proudly as the photographer snapped away. I refused individual pictures, though, opting for one with the entire team instead.
The massive wood and silver trophy was brought out and there was more posing for the media. Then the guys took turns hoisting the mammoth trophy in the air and skating it around the ice.
