Caught Between Two Hockey Stars

The first thing I noticed about Dalton University wasn't the old brick buildings or the endless crowd of students rushing across campus. It was the sound coming from the hockey arena, loud enough to shake the windows of the buildings nearby. I stopped at the bottom of the stairs, staring up at the arena glowing beneath the evening sky. Tonight was my first hockey game at Blackwood, and after weeks of hearing about this team as it was the center of the entire university's universe, I was finally going to see what all the excitement was about. More importantly, I was going to see Liam play. My phone buzzed in my pocket. Liam: Where are you? I smiled without meaning to. Me: Outside the arena. His reply came almost instantly. Liam: You said you'd be here ten minutes ago. Me: I'm here now. Liam: Get inside, Parker. I rolled my eyes at the screen. Same Liam. He'd been bossy since we were kids, and somehow eighteen years hadn't softened that even slightly. Our families had been friends for as long as I could remember, which meant Liam Callahan had been part of my life long before hockey, long before college, long before any of the attention that seemed to trail him everywhere now. We'd grown up together—countless summers, stupid fights, secrets neither of us had ever told anyone else—and somehow stayed best friends even after ending up at the same university by what felt like pure coincidence. The only real difference now was that Liam had changed. Or maybe I had. Because the boy I remembered from childhood, gangly and awkward and always losing at video games, was somehow now the captain of Dalton’s hockey team. And apparently, everyone on campus knew exactly who he was. I understood why the second I pushed through the arena doors. The place was packed—students crammed into every row, dressed head to toe in Dalton colors, waving banners, screaming before the game had even started. Music blasted through the speakers while the announcer worked the crowd into a frenzy, introducing the team. I found my seat near the glass and scanned the ice until I spotted him. Number twenty-seven. Even with his helmet on, I'd have known him everywhere. He skated out with the rest of his teammates, tapping his stick against the boards, settling into warm-up with the kind of ease that only came from years of doing this exact thing. Then his eyes found the stands, found me, and his whole face broke into a grin. I smiled back, and for one second the noise of the entire arena dropped away completely. Then he turned back to the ice, and it all came rushing back in. --- I'd never really understood hockey before that night. I knew Liam played—of course I knew, I'd watched him practice in driveways and empty rinks since we were kids—but I'd never understood why thousands of people would lose their minds over twenty men chasing a puck across ice at speeds that barely seemed human. Five minutes into the first period, I understood completely. The players moved so fast I could barely track them, the crowd erupting every time someone slammed into the boards hard enough to rattle the glass. I found myself leaning forward every time Liam got anywhere near the goal, whispering encouragement he couldn't possibly hear. "Come on, Liam." He stole the puck from an opposing player, sent it flying across the ice to a teammate, then another, before it came back to him. He shot. The goalie blocked it. The whole arena groaned in unison, and I laughed at myself. "Almost!" I said, to no one in particular. The girl beside me turned, amused. "First game?" "Yeah." "You'll get addicted." "Pretty sure I already am." She laughed, nodding toward the ice. "Who's your favorite player?" "Number twenty-seven," I said, pointing. Her eyebrows shot up. "Liam Callahan?" "Yeah." "You know him?" "Since we were kids," I said, smiling. She studied me a beat too long, something knowing creeping into her expression. "Oh." "What?" "Nothing." She turned back to the game with a small, private smile that I didn't fully understand and didn't have time to ask about, because Dalton scored a second later and the entire arena exploded around us. I jumped up with everyone else, laughing as Liam's teammates swarmed him at center ice. He lifted his stick toward the crowd, and his eyes found me again, unmistakable even from this distance. He pointed. I pointed back. "He definitely knows you're here," the girl beside me said. "Of course he does." "He keeps looking at you." "He's my best friend." "Sure," she said, still smiling like she knew something I didn't. I let it go and turned back to the game. By the third period, Dalton clung to a one-goal lead until the other team tied it with barely two minutes left on the clock. The arena went from deafening to unbearable, every person around me on their feet, screaming, gripping railings like it might somehow help. I gripped the edge of my own seat instead. "Come on." The clock ticked down—thirty seconds, twenty, ten—and then Liam had the puck, cutting down the ice with a defender closing in fast. He dodged one, then another, and shot just as the final seconds bled away. The puck hit the net. The horn sounded. Dalton won. I screamed louder than I meant to, the sound swallowed instantly by the roar of the entire arena as players piled onto the ice in celebration. Liam pulled off his helmet and looked straight toward the stands—toward me—grinning so wide I could see it from twenty rows back. I couldn't stop smiling back if I'd tried. My first hockey game had officially become my favorite night at Dalton. At least, that's what I thought, before I found the wrong locker room. --- The crowd was still filtering out when I made my way toward the players' entrance, following the text Liam had sent an hour earlier telling me to meet him in the locker room hallway. I'd never actually been inside the hockey facilities before, and every corridor looked identical to the last—same gray doors, same echoing concrete, no signs anywhere that seemed useful to someone who had no idea where she was going. "Liam?" No answer. I pushed open the nearest door. "Liam, are you—" I stopped. My entire body went rigid. Jace Bennett stood several feet away, clearly fresh out of the shower, a towel slung low around his waist and dark hair dripping onto his shoulders. For one horrifying, suspended second, neither of us moved. Then I screamed. "Oh my God!" He jumped, grabbing a second towel off the bench with startling speed. "What the—" "Jesus!" I spun around so fast I nearly collided with the door frame. Behind me, he started laughing, low and completely unbothered. "Wait." "Don't talk to me!" "You're the girl who walked into the wrong locker room." "I know!" I pressed both hands over my face, mortified beyond anything I'd felt in recent memory. "This is so embarrassing." "Pretty sure it's more embarrassing for me." "I'm not looking!" "Good choice." I heard him laugh again, closer now. "Who are you even looking for?" "Liam!" A pause and then he laughed harder. "Of course you are." I turned just enough to glare at him over my shoulder. "Where is he?" Before he could answer, the door swung open behind me. Liam walked in, hair still damp, tugging a shirt over his head. He froze at the sight of me, glanced at Jace, then back at me, visibly trying to piece the scene together. "What happened?" I pointed at Jace without looking directly at him. "He was naked!" Jace burst out laughing. Liam's mouth twitched, caught somewhere between concern and the obvious effort not to laugh himself. "Oh." "Don't 'oh' me!" "You went into the wrong room, didn't you." "I thought this was your locker room!" "It is." I blinked. "Then why was he in here?" Jace raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself far too much. "Because I'm on the team, Parker." I stared at him. "Parker?" Liam looked between the two of us, brow furrowing. "You two know each other?" "No," Jace said. "Yes," I said, at exactly the same moment. Liam frowned. Jace grinned wider. "She knows me now." I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole. "I'm leaving." I turned toward the door with as much dignity as I could salvage. "Wait," Liam said, laughter breaking through despite himself. "You don't even know where you're going." "Anywhere but here." He caught my wrist before I made it two steps. "Come on." I looked at him, unimpressed. "You're laughing." "I'm not laughing." "You're smiling." "That's different." "Liam." He finally lost the battle and laughed outright. I shoved his shoulder, unable to fully keep the smile off my own face. "You're horrible." He slung an arm around my shoulders anyway, steering me toward the door. "Come on, Parker." As we walked away, Jace's voice carried after us, unbothered and amused. "Nice meeting you, Blair." I stopped in my tracks and turned around slowly. "How do you know my name?" His grin only widened. "Liam talks." Liam groaned. "Jace." "What?" "Shut up." Jace laughed again, clearly not planning to. I looked at Liam, narrowing my eyes. "What exactly have you been telling him about me?" "Nothing." "Liar." He just shook his head, steering me firmly out the door. "You'll survive." I glanced back once before the door swung shut behind us. Jace was still standing there, arms crossed, watching us go with that same lazy, amused smile. And somehow, despite the humiliation still burning hot in my cheeks, I couldn't quite stop thinking about him. Maybe the girl in the stands had been onto something after all. Maybe hockey really was addictive. And maybe my first game at Blackwood had introduced me to a lot more than just sport.