Offside Hearts (Love and Hockey Book 1)

The next home game is the following Monday, and I decide to do a little live stream of the Denver Aces warming up before the puck drops.

I’m standing right at the edge of the rink, panning the camera so that I can get a shot of all the team members skating around the rink and doing warm up exercises, as well as get footage of the crowd cheering them on. The game doesn’t start for another half hour, so the people who are already in the stands and getting into the action are true Denver Aces fans.

Watching the team warm up is actually one of my favorite things. Not that watching them play isn’t impressive as hell, but there’s something really fun about watching them move around the ice as they prepare for a game.

For one thing, the first time I watched a warmup, I couldn’t stop blushing at some of the things they do to stretch out their hips and groins—and knowing just how well Noah can move his hips doesn’t help banish the flush in my cheeks every time I see him stretch on the ice.

I get some great footage of a group of kids holding up signs wishing the players luck, and then end the live stream with a recording of Noah making a shot from almost the center line. The crowd cheers, and then one of the refs blows his whistle, indicating it’s time for them to head back into the locker rooms and get ready for the game to start.

As I’m hitting the ‘end record’ button, a trio of drunk frat boys push their way past me. One of them nearly elbows me in the face by accident, making me drop my phone.

I curse under my breath and grab my cell from the floor by my foot. I don’t have time to check if it’s broken or cracked because now the crowd is hurrying in from getting their snacks and taking bathroom breaks, and I’m trapped in a sea of people. I slide my phone into my pocket and fight my way out of the crowd, heading for the locker rooms. Noah and I have a little pre-game ritual now, so I wait in the hallway for him to sneak away, and after a couple minutes, he emerges from the door in his uniform and joins me in a little corner tucked off to the side.

“Hey, there, gorgeous,” he murmurs, resting his hand on my hip as he steps closer. “You come here often?”

I laugh. “Yeah, but you should know, this guy I’m seeing is going to be walking by any moment, and if he sees you… well, let’s just say, he’s very strong and will kick your ass.”

Noah smirks. “I’ll take my chances. You’re worth it.”

Then he leans in for a kiss. He lingers, and I know he wants to take things a little further, but there’s simply no time. I push gently on his chest, and we separate.

“You’d better go,” I tell him. “The game is going to start soon.”

“I still have one more minute,” he says. “Besides, you’re my good luck charm.”

He kisses me once more, then nuzzles his nose into my neck before he sighs and takes a step back. As much as we want each other, we’re also both determined to keep this thing a secret, so he puts some distance between us so we have plausible deniability in case anyone were to come around the corner and catch us.

“Have a good game,” I tell him. “Play hard.”

A smile curves his lips. “Anything for my best girl.”

“Will you score a goal for me?”

He chuckles. “For you, Sunflower? I’ll score a hat trick.” He glances around to make sure we’re still alone before leaning in one more time, dropping his voice to a low whisper as he adds, “And then I’ll give you a hat trick tonight to celebrate. I want to hear you scream my name at least three times.”

A shiver washes through me, my thighs clenching. He smirks hungrily, then tells me he’ll meet me outside after the game and disappears into the locker room.

I go back out into the stands and sit in my usual spot, listening to the sounds of the crowd around me as I reach into my pocket and dig out my phone again.

Instagram is still open, but the app has frozen, so I exit out of it as the game gets underway.

After the national anthem and the ceremonial puck drop, the Aces hit the ice, and they come out playing strong. I’m cheering, up on my feet in the first minute of the game, and I don’t get a moment to catch my breath until almost halfway through the first period. Finally, there’s a break, and I sit down and check my phone, which has been buzzing a lot over the last few minutes.

I have about three dozen notifications from Instagram, all from people tagging the team’s account. I click on one of them and realize that it’s a screen recording of the live video I did of the Aces warming up. People are commenting on the recording, but most of the comments don’t make any sense to me.

Ahhh! They are so cute together! reads one.

Oh my god, I knew it! says another.

You can ask anybody, I was shipping them like WEEKS ago.

Frowning, I scroll down as the comments continue to flood in, and my stomach tightens into a knot as I slowly piece together what they’re talking about.

I somehow accidentally live-streamed my entire conversation with Noah in the hallway outside the locker rooms.

Oh, shit.

My heart practically stops, and I play the video over again, holding my phone up to my ear so that I can hear it better. Thankfully, the thing he whispered about making me come three times screaming his name was too quiet to be picked up by the microphone, but even though the dirtiest part of our conversation wasn’t recorded, it’s still completely obvious that the two of us are in a romantic relationship.

Fuck. This is bad.

Unfortunately, since the screen recordings of my live being reposted aren’t from the Aces’ account, there’s no way for me to take them down now. All I can do is watch in horror as the world uncovers our secret and shares their many, many thoughts on the subject.

The second period starts up, and I watch the game on autopilot, my mind racing a mile a minute. Noah is carving up the ice like he always does, getting ahold of the puck and scoring twice before the period ends. Each time he puts the puck in the net, the crowd goes wild in person, and so do the fans on social media. They seem to think that Noah is playing so well because I’m watching him from the stands, and I keep looking around to see if anyone in attendance has spotted me in the crowd.

Is anyone filming me? HockeyLover_92, maybe?

In the final period, Noah scores a third time, following through on his promise to deliver a hat trick, and everyone goes wild. One woman a couple rows down from me shouts, “He did it for her!” and I hear someone behind me jokingly say, “And I can’t even get my boyfriend to take out the trash.”

I tuck my chin into my chest, feeling exposed and anxious as I let my hair obscure my face a bit. The last thing I want is for all these people who are apparently very invested in my relationship to realize I’m sitting right next to them and bombard me with questions or try to take my picture or something. Although this was part of the reason Noah and I decided to keep our relationship a secret in the first place, I’m a little stunned by just how much people seem to care about all of this.

It’s unnerving, to say the least, and I can’t seem to get my pulse to stop racing. I have no idea what will happen now, but it’s way too late to try to get the cat back into the bag.

As the game continues, I keep my head down so that I won’t accidentally bring any more attention to myself, and when it ends in a win for the Aces, the crowd gets on their feet and cheers. A few more people yell out things about me and Noah, but once the players disappear into the locker rooms, the fun is over for them, and they grow quiet.

Thankfully, there’s one thing people care more about than celebrity gossip, and that’s avoiding traffic, so most of the people gathered clear out of the arena as fast as they can, and nobody bothers me. I wait until pretty much everyone else is gone, then hurry to meet up with Noah outside the locker room.

When he steps out, fresh from a shower with his hair glistening darkly, he looks at me and frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“You haven’t seen it yet?”

He shakes his head, so I quickly tell him what happened. When I get to the end of the story, my voice breaks as another wave of anxiety crashes over me.

“This is so bad, Noah. It shouldn’t have come out like this. I can’t believe I was so stupid.”

Noah steps closer, gripping my shoulders gently. “It’s gonna be okay, Sunflower. I promise. No matter what happens, I’ve got you, okay?”

I drag in a breath, trying to calm the unsettled churning in my stomach. “I’m sorry. Maybe we shouldn’t have kept it a secret. I was worried about my job, but now I’ve just made everything worse.”

He pulls me into a hug, wrapping his arms around me. “It’s not your fault. I know how much this job means to you.”

I squeeze him tightly, wishing I could rewind time to when we met up in the hallway before the game, back when it didn’t feel like anything could bring us down. Several of Noah’s teammates start to emerge from the locker room, and we break apart as they pass by. Zach and Maxim glance at us curiously, and Reese’s eyebrows shoot up at the sight of us standing so close together.

But before he can comment on it, I hear the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway from the other direction, and when I look over, I see Ted striding toward us.

His expression is serious but otherwise unreadable, and my heart flips over in my chest as he crooks a finger at me and Noah.

“We’d like to speak to you both in the coaches’ office,” he says.

Oh god. Here we go.