FAKE DATING MY CRUSH'S HOCKEY RIVAL

AMBER’S POV Maverick tapped the glass twice, the way he'd done since we were six years old, and for one second, I forgot the whole arena was watching him. Then he turned to the bench, dug through his bag, and came back with a black glove. There was a small gap in the glass near the bench door, and he tossed the glove through it. I caught it with both hands. “That’s my spare,” he said. “You’re my good luck charm, Amber. Don’t lose it.” I held the glove to my chest and felt my whole face go red. It smelled like sweat and old leather, but I still thought it was the best thing in the world. “I won’t,” I said. “Now go win.” He winked and skated away, while I watched him with a smile on my face. Maverick was the captain and star of Ridgemont College’s hockey team, but tonight, he was sharing the spotlight with the new exchange student – Ryder Halloway. Ryder had joined our school at the start of the year. He was tall, with dark hair, gray eyes, and a smirk that never left his face. I hated the fact that every week, I had to write a game analysis for the team, and every week, I had to write about Ryder sharing the glory with Maverick. Just then, a Wildcat player shot the puck across the ice, but the pass was bad. The score was still tied, 5-5, with six seconds left on the clock. As expected, Maverick was already there. He intercepted the pass and took the puck with one clean move. “Go, Maverick, go!” I screamed, jumping up. He flew down the ice with the puck glued to his stick. One Wildcat tried to stop him, but Maverick spun right past him. The crowd was roaring, the goal was right in front of him now, with only the goalie left to beat. Maverick pulled back his stick to shoot, and then a figure came out of nowhere. It was Ryder. He slid in from the side, hooked the puck right off Maverick’s stick, and took the shot. The puck flew past the goalie and into the net. The red light came on and the buzzer sounded. 6-5. For one second, the whole arena was silent. Then it exploded. “Ryder! Ryder! Ryder!” The whole team rushed onto the ice, and they lifted Ryder onto their shoulders. He raised his stick in the air and grinned like he had just been crowned king. People were screaming his name, and some girls in the stands were crying. I looked at Maverick. He was already making his way off the rink and towards the locker room with his stick hanging from his hand. I grabbed my bag, my notebook, and the glove, and I ran down the stairs. No one stopped me at the players’ hall. I had been going in and out of that locker room for two years, handing Maverick his notes before games, and everyone knew it. I found him at the very end of the room. He was sitting on a bench, taking off his skates. “I can’t believe it,” I said, out of breath. “He stole that from you! You were going to score, Maverick. It was your goal. He always does this, he always has to take the spotlight, and everybody just claps like…” “Amber,” Maverick said calmly, without looking up. “Relax.” “How can I relax? You’re the captain! He’s been stealing your shine all year!” “It’s just a game.” He stood up and stretched his arms above his head. “I’m not worried about it. I’m going to do some extra workout to fix my form. I’ll see you later.” “Wait, Maverick, I…” But he was already walking out. The door closed behind him, and I was standing alone in the middle of the room, still holding his glove. Just a few minutes ago, he had made me feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Now I felt like I was invisible. I sighed and turned around to leave. That was when someone slammed into my back. “Oh!” I lost my balance and stumbled forward. My notebook slipped from my arm, and the papers inside it flew everywhere and scattered across the floor. I spun around, ready to shout at whoever it was. Then I saw who it was, and my eyes rolled back in my head. It was Ryder. His hair was wet, and he had a towel hanging from his neck. He stood there with his arms crossed, smirking down at me. “Well, well,” he said. “What is the little analyst doing in the men’s locker room? Are you here to stare at the hottest boy in school?” “Not a chance,” I hissed. I bent down, grabbed a paper from the floor, and slapped it hard against his bare chest. “Here. It’s the game analysis. Read it and fix everything on it, if you ever hope to be half the player Maverick is.” Ryder raised an eyebrow. He took the paper from his chest and looked at it. His eyes moved down the page, slowly, and then a strange smile spread across his face. After a moment, he chuckled. “What’s so funny?” I frowned. “Everytime I watch you skate down that ice, my heart skips a beat,” He read. “You’re the star of the team, and your smile’s like a dream.” I froze in my steps and looked at the pile of papers on the floor. Then I looked at the paper in his hand, and I finally saw the neat handwriting, the little hearts I had drawn in the corner. It was the poem I had written about Maverick at midnight, when I couldn’t sleep. It was the wrong paper. Of all the papers in the world, I had given him the wrong one! “Give it back!” I screamed. I jumped at him and tried to grab it, but Ryder lifted his arm high above his head, and he was much taller than me. I jumped again, and my foot slipped on the wet floor. I fell forward, and my face landed right on his bare chest. His skin was warm and he smelled like mint, and for one second, my brain stopped working. Then I came back to my senses. I pushed myself away from him and stood up straight, my cheeks burning. Ryder was watching me with a dangerous smile. He held the paper between two fingers, just out of my reach. “There are only two stars on the hockey team, Amber,” he said. “So do you have a crush on Maverick?” His eyes searched my face for a while. “…Or do you have a crush on me?”