One miss.
I need to either miss one or not miss anything to win. I step up and the team shouts encouragement, they want me to win. The stick feels right in my hands now that I’ve warmed up. Pierreis watching from the boards with his arms crossed, and I can feel his energy from here telling me to show him who you are.
First puck. I set it. Breathe. Just go with it.
Shoot. Ping. Bottle down.
Second. Ping. Another down.
Third. Ping. It’s down.
The rink is quiet. I can hear my heart thumping wildly in my chest.
Fourth shot. Ping. Another down.
Shit.
I can do this. There’s one bottle left. I line up the puck and suck in a breath to try to center myself. I turn and look at Fish, which is a big mistake, he’s so cute. He’s watching me with this expression that’s not competitive anymore, it’s something else. Like he’s seeing me properly for the first time. Not Pierre’s sister. Not the content girl. Just me, on the ice, about to beat him at his own game.
Don’t miss. Don’t you dare miss.
I shoot.
Ping.
Five for five.
The bench explodes. Nelly is screaming. Bouch is on his feet. Felix is doubled over. Pierre’s clap is slow, deliberate, proud. The kind of clap that says that’s a St. Pierre.
I turn to Fish, and I can’t help the grin that forms on my face. “So, about that strip tease, are you ready to give it?”
Fish stares at me blankly for a couple of moments before shaking his head. “You want me to strip right now?”
“Content waits for no one.” I smirk at him as I lean against the hockey stick.
“I can’t believe you beat me?”
“Me either.” I giggle because I can’t believe it.
“Pay up, buddy.” I smirk.
“You heard her, Fish, get that kit off,” Emmett tells him.
“Fuck, Cap, come on …”
Emmett shakes his head. “A bet’s a bet.”
Fish grumbles. “Fine.”
I look over, and Marlowe has the camera locked on him. He starts to pull off his jersey, while Zara shouts directions. The bench loses it, erupting into whistles and cat calls, some of them even have their phones out. He’s never going to live this down. Next are his gloves that he throws at Evan, who has his camera out. Pads next, he’s playing it up now, hamming it for the camera, and the boys are howling.
Pierre yells something in French, and I translate between laughs. “He says you have no shame.”
“Tell him I have plenty of shame, I’m choosing to ignore it,” Fish yells back. He’s standing on the ice in his base layer, arms out, grinning like a man who just lost everything and doesn’t care. And I’m laughing so hard my ribs hurt. This is just content, good content. The girls online are going to go insane.The puck bunnies, too.Especially seeing the way his shirt molds to his muscles. Is it getting hot in here?
“Take it off! Take it off!” Nelly is leading the charge because, of course, he is. The bench starts chanting, actually, chanting, like we’re at a frat party and not a professional hockey facility.
Fish looks at me. “You sure about this?”