Boyfriend Bargain by Ilsa Madden-Mills
42
Zack
The championship game is finally here.
Sitting on the bench in my T-shirt and running shorts, I wrap my stick with methodical precision.
You deserve hockey. You deserve happiness.
Once my stick is ready, I stand and roll my shoulders, relaxing my muscles and shaking out my arms. Tonight’s game is about putting everything shitty behind me and focusing on what’s ahead, and I’ve been working on my mental concentration, familiarizing myself with the stats of every player on the opposing team and memorizing every single play I need. What I can’t do is think about anything else. Tonight, it’s me and the ice. Tonight’s the finals, and I’m determined we’re going to win that trophy and bring it home.
Eric sits down on the bench in front of me, closes his eyes, and takes deep, even breaths.
“Meditating?” I ask.
He gives me a nod, keeping his eyes shut.
“Copycat. Want me to hum some kumbaya?”
He gives me a shrug and pops his eyes open. “Honestly, it just makes me sleepy.”
I’m about to reply, but my breath hitches as a tall young woman with wavy blonde hair walks past the open door of the locker room.
She turns to speak to one of the reporters in the hallway. Not her.
But still, my head goes to the Kappa party a few days ago.
She walked away from me and this time, I couldn’t blame her. I’m not ready to do what she needs. I let her go and once I composed myself, I went downstairs. She was gone, not that I was surprised. I went home alone.
I have to focus on the game, the reason I’m here.
Eric gives me a look that’s half grin, half scared-as-shit grimace. “You ready, man?”
“Hell yeah.” I look at the silver medallion necklace my mom gave me, and there’s comfort in slipping it around my neck and tucking it under my gear.
Nothing gold can stayis true, but tonight, it’s going to burn bright.
* * *
My helmet isin my hands and my gloves are off, tucked up under my arm as I look up at the black and gold confetti raining down on us. I look over at Eric, who’s still got a huge smile on his face. He skates up to me and punches me in the arm, and I laugh. We beat Minnesota-Duluth 6 to 5 in a well-fought, tooth-and-nail fight to the bitter end. Four of those goals were mine, but I thought it was over when I took a slap shot to the leg in the second period and went down. Convinced something was broken, the medics whisked me to the locker room, but I was fine and ran back out to score again.
“Congratulations on the championship!” a reporter says.
Reece skates over and we all three stand with our arms around each other, confetti blanketing the rink in the Wisconsin arena. Reporters call out and cameras flash and the music is loud, the fans who followed us all the way here clapping and cheering in their HU shirts. I hear my name being chanted, and I huff out an embarrassed laugh as my eyes scan the seats, checking the rows…needing, wishing, hoping.
But I don’t see her blonde hair.
Not that I thought she would come since the game was out of town, but many students did, and I guess part of me just wanted her to be here.
A reporter sticks a microphone in my face. “Truly a night to remember, Zack?”
I nod. “Absolutely. Best night ever.”
But that’s not entirely true.
Not until she’s with me.
