1. Brock

"Excuse me," I reply gruffly as I bump into someone on the way into the hockey rink.

"Oh, my goodness, I'm so sorry. I wasn't even paying attention to where I was going," a soft melodic voice murmurs.

I'm in pre-game mode as we're playing the championship tonight, it will be my last ever college hockey game. I'm in my head envisioning the win.

This isn't helping my concentration.

Somehow, we're in a weird embrace, her delicate hands are on my chest and my arm is around her waist.

How did this happen?

I look into the brightest green eyes I've ever seen. The woman before me is breathtaking with dark brown hair that falls in ringlets around her gorgeous face. She's wearing Boston College gear, a jersey with my best friend's number on it.

"I'm sorry, I was in a different world. Are you okay?"

"Yes," she smiles softly.

Our eyes are locked and neither of us says anything as we just look back at each other. There's something about her that's special. She feels so familiar to me.

I lean forward and cover her mouth with mine in a slow, gentle kiss. She instantly melts in my arms before she tenses and pulls away.

What am I doing? I've never been so impulsive before. I'm lucky she didn't slap me.

I break the kiss, but I don't let go of her.

Wow, that was an amazing kiss though.

"You coming to watch the game?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

"I'll score a goal for you," I smile flirtatiously.

She laughs, rolls her eyes, and shakes her head as she pushes away from me. "You athletes are all the same."

"Is that so?"

She nods as she turns to walk away. I grab her wrist. "What's your name?"

"Layla."

Get her back in your arms as soon as you can. "Do you want to hang out after we win?"

"What happens if you lose?"

"That's not happening," I chuckle cockily. "Hang out with me tonight."

"I already have plans."

"Can I have your number?" She narrows her eyes as she looks back at me hesitantly. She nods slowly. I glance at my phone and then at her as she rattles off the number. I input it into my phone and text her immediately.

It's the man of your dreams standing across from you

She doesn't even look at it, just walks away.

"Layla, you've got me on my knees, Layla," I sing as I watch her leave.

If she heard me, she didn't even slow her walk.

Intriguing. Women tend to throw themselves at me, especially after a kiss and this one is unbothered.

I walk into the rink and make my way to the locker room. My best friend Eric is already bouncing around hyping everyone up.

"Duuuuude," I laugh as I high-five him. "I think I just met my future wife."

"Who is it this time?"

"Some hot little thing I met outside."

"You're ridiculous, there's a new one every week. Did you get her number?"

"Hell yeah, I did. I am the master at work."

He shakes his head and goes off to greet someone else.

***

An hour later, my heart pounds in my chest as I glide onto the ice, the chill of the rink seeping through my gear. The championship hockey game is about to begin, and the anticipation is intense.

The crowd roars, a sea of colors blending in a symphony of support. I lock eyes with Eric and we exchange a nod. This is it – the moment we"ve trained for, the chance to etch our names into the history of the game.

The referee drops the puck, and the game is underway. I cut through the ice, darting toward the faceoff, determination etched across my face. The navy and gold of Notre Dame are relentless, but our focus is intense. The first period unfolds in a blur of lightning-fast passes, bone-rattling checks, and acrobatic saves from both goalies.

As the second period kicks off, the tension in the arena reaches a fever pitch. The score remains deadlocked at 1-1, with each team unwilling to yield an inch. Eric and I coordinate our movements with an unspoken understanding, weaving through the opposing players with an almost telepathic connection. The crowd is on its feet, the energy electrifying the air.

Midway through the second period, I see an opportunity. I intercept a pass near the blue line, accelerate into the offensive zone, and release a blistering wrist shot. The puck sails past the goalie"s outstretched glove, finding the back of the net. The arena erupts in cheers as I raise my arms in triumph. The score now reads 2-1, and momentum is firmly on our side.

The opposing team retaliates with a vengeance, launching a relentless assault on our team. The defense tightens, and the goalie makes a series of incredible saves to maintain the slim lead. Eric, displaying his trademark speed and finesse, races up the ice, deftly maneuvering through Notre Dame's defenders. With a quick deke, he sends the puck flying into the top corner of the net. The scoreboard blinks 3-1, and hope courses through our veins.

In the dying minutes of the third period, Notre Dame stages a ferocious comeback. They capitalize on a power play, narrowing the gap to 3-2. The tension in the arena is palpable as the clock ticks down, each second feeling like an eternity.

With only a minute remaining, Notre Dame's Fighting Irish pull their goalie, opting for an extra attacker. The ice becomes a chaotic battleground, bodies colliding, sticks clashing, and the puck careening unpredictably. Eric and I, feeling the weight of the game on our shoulders, fight tooth and nail to protect our lead.

A faceoff in our defensive zone becomes a pivotal moment. I grit my teeth, my eyes locked on the puck. The referee drops it, and a mad scramble ensues. Joe Windsor, of Notre Dame, gains possession, unleashing a barrage of shots. Tyler, our goalie, displays nerves of steel and makes save after save.

With seconds left on the clock, the puck squirts free. I, displaying an unmatched burst of speed, streak toward it. I control it with my stick, evading desperate defenders. The crowd rises in anticipation as I approach the empty net. With a swift flick of my wrist, I send the puck gliding into the goal, sealing the victory.

The final buzzer echoes through the arena, and I am engulfed by my teammates. The championship is ours, a culmination of years of dedication, sacrifice, and unyielding teamwork. The crowd"s cheers reverberate through the rink as we hoist the coveted trophy high above our heads.

Our last game as a team and it ends in the sweetest victory. We weren't picked to win today but we did it anyway.

I strip off my gear once we're in the locker room, the cold metal of the locker contrasting with the warmth of the moment. Eric claps me on the back with a grin that mirrors my own.

"We did it, Brock!" he exclaims, his voice a mix of elation and relief. "Can you believe it?"

I shake my head, the reality sinking in. "It"s surreal, man. But we earned it."

The locker room erupts in cheers and high-fives, a cacophony of victorious shouts and laughter. Coach J enters with a proud smile on his face and delivers a heartfelt speech about teamwork and resilience. The championship trophy gleams in the center of the room, a tangible symbol of our collective effort.

Amidst the celebration, Eric pulls me aside, his eyes glinting with excitement. "Hey, Brock, you know what this calls for, right?"

I raise an eyebrow, mirroring his grin. "Enlighten me, oh wise one."

"We are celebrating our first night on this volunteer trip," he declares, his enthusiasm contagious. "It will be epic, just us and the guys. What do you say?"

"Absolutely. We"ve earned it."

Coach does a lot of work for Habitat for Humanity and asked us as a team to volunteer this year. We were all down for it and would be traveling to Maine to build houses after a storm ripped through the area.

"Oh shit, I forgot to tell you that my sister is coming."

"You have a sister?"

"Yeah, a twin actually."

"Identical?"

"No," he roars with laughter. "We don't even look related honestly."

"Thank goodness, I'd feel sorry for your sister if she shared your ugly mug."

"Don't be getting ideas. She needs a change of scenery. She just broke up with her boyfriend. Figured this trip could be a reset button for her."

"That"s thoughtful of you, man. But how"s she gonna feel being surrounded by a bunch of rowdy hockey players?"

Eric chuckles. "Trust me, she can handle herself. Besides, she could use some cheering up."

The locker room conversation shifts to the upcoming trip, and the prospect of having Eric"s sister join us adds an interesting dynamic.

"Is your sister hot?" Tyler asks. "I can definitely cheer her up."

"I just got dumped too," Ryan laughs. "I need to be cheered up as well."

"My sister is off limits."

"Why's that?" Tyler interjects.

"She's not a play toy for any of you. She's going to med school and doesn't need the likes of any of you messing things up for her."

"Oh, so we're good teammates but not as a brother-in-law?" I tease.

"You, especially, stay away from my sister," he laughs.

"I don't know how we've been roommates and teammates for four years and I'm just learning you have a twin sister."

"I know what to keep a secret," he chuckles. "You were my rival throughout grade school and high school, man, did you really think I'd leave myself open for you to get to my sister."

"I see how you are," I laugh. "I thought we were past the rival stuff."

"We were but now we're on opposite teams in the NHL."

"Oh, that's how it is?" I chuckle and shake my head. "We're leaving in two. If your sister is going with us, shouldn't she be here by now?"

"She's here, she just drove up this afternoon with my parents. Well, she texted to tell me they're all here and will meet us outside in the parking lot."

"Are you going to introduce me or make her wear a bag over her head so no one can talk to her?"

"I thought about the bag thing."

"You're ridiculous."

"You forget that I see how you go through women."

I roll my eyes and shake my head. He's not wrong. However, the woman that I met before the game was the type of woman who would make me stop all of my bad-boy ways and settle down.

"It's okay. I told you I met my future wife earlier; I only have eyes for her now."

"I'll believe it when I see that. Maybe you should text her and ask her to celebrate with us tonight since we'll be leaving on this trip soon. She may slip right through your fingers if you don't."

"You're a genius," I smile.

I finish getting dressed and then grab my phone to shoot off a text to Layla.

Want to celebrate with the star of the game tonight? I can meet you somewhere

I told you I have plans already, thanks though

Damn it.

"My sister's out front, she's staying at the apartment with us tonight."

"Okay."

"Did your girl reply?"

"Yeah, said she had other plans."

"Damn, that's cold."

"She's just playing hard to get," I laugh and shrug it off.

The two of us leave the locker room and start walking out of the rink. People stop us every few minutes to congratulate us on a great game. We're literally on top of the world right now.

Nothing can get me to come down from this high. What an amazing feeling!

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I slow down to take a look at it.

"Are you coming?" Eric asks impatiently.

I put the phone back in my pocket before I chuckle and jog to catch up to him.

"I'm coming, I'm coming. What's your sister's name anyway?" I ask.

"Oh, it's Layla."

"Eric!" a voice hollers nearby.

No fucking way.

I turn in the direction of the voice. My mouth drops open when I realize that the woman of my dreams is none other than my best friend's sister.

Her eyes widen as we lock eyes and she makes the same realization that I do.

Well, this just got weird.