Myla
Walkinginto the Otters’ arena was thrilling; it had been far too long since I had been to a game. The smell of the ice, the cool air, the bustling of fans all decked out in Otters apparel—it was all freaking amazing.
I started to lead the way, then realized I didn’t exactly know where I was going. “Wait, where are our seats?” I glanced around, soaking in the life force of the fans’ excitement.
Adam looked down, checking the row and seat numbers on the tickets gripped in his hand. “We’re all the way down in front next to the penalty box.”
Freaking perfect.
The seats were incredible, but their location meant there was no way Brayden was not going to see me. Knowing my brother, he was going to spend at least a little bit of time in trouble.
We took our seats, chomping on popcorn. “You know; this is my first hockey game.” Adam blushed a little as he confessed his naiveté when it came to my favorite sport of all time.
“Don’t worry, babe. I can explain the rules to you.”
I leapt to my feet as the opposing team started to skate out onto the ice, booing and screaming with the rest of the Otters’ fandom. Grabbing Adam’s hand, I pulled him up next to me. “You have to yell really loud when they announce Brayden Cox, okay? He’s number sixty-eight.”
He gave me a sideways glance. “Isn’t Cox your last name?”
My face got hot as I bit my lower lip. “Yes. My brother is one of the players.”
“No shit. Why didn’t you tell me?”
I shrugged. “I wanted you to like me for me, not for who my brother is or who my dad was.”
Adam took a sip from his mixed drink, which I could barely smell without almost losing my lunch—Jäger mixed with anything was just so disgusting to me. I couldn’t understand how anyone could enjoy a licorice-flavored alcohol. “I get it. I do like you and I don’t really know anything about hockey, so it is kind of nice to have an expert here with me.”
“Let’s just hope for a barn burner!” I yelled, clapping when I saw my brother’s number coming onto the ice. “Yay! Brayden!” I screamed with my hands cupped around my mouth, jumping up and down.
Adam leaned closer to my ear. “What’s a barn burner?”
“Oh, honey, you have a lot to learn.”
Gavin
I smacked Crosby on the pads as I started to get fired up for the opening game. I could see the flames kindling in my teammates’ eyes as we chanted in the locker room. I could feel that the season was going to ours; it had to be. We were coming off a losing streak from the last few seasons and it was high time we started kicking ass and taking names.
My father walked in with his perfectly pressed suit and ridiculous otter-print tie that he thought was the fucking tits. “Are you guys ready?” he bellowed.
Everyone howled back with cheerful grunts and yells.
“What are you going to do with the puck?” His face resembled an overly ripened tomato as he waved his clipboard in the air.
We all responded, “Put it in the net!”
“What’s that?” I screamed back at my guys.
“Put it in the fucking net!” they all hollered back to me.
“Let’s give them hell, boys!” I shouted, raising my stick in the air.
With that we were all rushing out of the locker room and onto the ice. I followed our goalie out. “Keep that glove up, Crosby, and we just might win this.”
He chuckled at me through his fishbowl. “You got it, Cap. Raise hell!”
Our opponents were just as revved up as we were. It was definitely going to be a game to go down in the record books—I could feel it deep in my bones.
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