The roar of the crowd was deafening, but I barely heard it. I was sitting stiffly in my sea and was surrounded by a sea of red and black jerseys. My heart thumped wildly as I watched Ryans glide across the ice like he was born on it. The scoreboard flashed: Boston Thunders – 3. New York Strikers – 2. One minute left.
The puck danced between sticks like a live wire, moving too fast for my untrained eyes. Fans screamed, stomping their feet and slamming on the glass. I clutched the edge of my seat, trying not to chew my already mangled bottom lip.
It was the second time I’d come to a game as Ryans' girlfriend—fake, obviously—but still. I felt everyone’s eyes, whispering, pointing.
Was that the Skylar? Ethan’s sister? The girl Caleb dumped for Tara?
The gossip was just too much and I wish
