29. BROOKLYN

CHAPTER 29

brOOKLYN

" T hat's what I'm talking about, baby!" I crash into Jamie, our goalie, and we wrap our arms awkwardly around each other. His stick bumps my helmet, but it doesn't matter. We just won by freaking shutout.

Dane's voice approaches from behind. "Aw yeah!"

I turn and we jump to bump our chests hard enough that I feel it under the pads. But a zamboni could drive over me and I wouldn't feel it. My whole body is a cocktail of dopamine and serotonin, the best mix right before my date with Liv.

Okay so she doesn't know it's a date yet. I said we're going to dinner, but then I'll ask her on an official date over the best pasta in town.

My eyes scan the crowd, looking for a girl with light brown skin, short brown hair, and my jersey. She does me the favor of always buying tickets around the same area, right behind our bench, which helps me spot her quickly. Her back is to me and she's climbing the stairs, following the trickle of people slowly starting to make their way out. I'm sure there's going to be a massive party right after this but I won't go. All I want is some alone time with Liv .

"Let's go," I tell the guys, still celebrating in huddles on the ice. I skate over to the tunnel at full speed and all but skip toward the locker room. I toss my gloves on the bench and open my locker, tearing through my bag until I find my phone.

Me

Can you sneak in to the players area?

I stare harder at the screen, probably making veins bulge in my face, until my text is shown as read and her three dots appear.

*Olive emoji*

I don't think your coach would approve

Me

Okay fine, I'll find you at the main entrance

I'll be super quick

*Olive emoji*

Ew no, make sure to wash properly

I tilt my head, about to ask her just what she wants me so clean for, but I settle for a generic fine . I can't come on too strong or she'll balk. She's the kind of person who naturally goes against the grain, which is why I have to give her a very soft introduction to dating me.

First, I'll ask her to be my date to the team benefit gala. If she wants to assume that it's an invitation as friends, that's okay. But at the gala, I'll show her what a date with me looks like. Then I'll ask her on another one over Christmas break, and on that one we'll kiss—I'll make sure to find some mistletoe or carry it in my pocket.

And if our first kiss was wild, unexpected, a little angry and a lot wet, this second one will seal the deal. Of that I'm as sure as the fact that my parents named me Brooklyn because they conceived me at a hotel in the New York borough.

Okay, weird factoid. Maybe my mind's going in the gutter way too fast.

I make lightning speed work of stripping out of my uniform, chucking my skates and helmet wherever they fall. I grab a clean towel from the rack and dash buck naked across the locker room.

Coach Green and Coach Thomas walk right in the middle of that. "Tatum?—"

"Sorry, Coach! In a hurry."

The bathroom tiles are cold under my feet and help me acclimate to a freezing cold shower. Just in case. I soap myself thoroughly, also just in case, my eyes stinging as shampoo drips down my face.

"Uh, dude. What's got into you?" Jamie asks from beside me.

Behind us, Dane says, "He has a date that is not really a date because the girl he's going out with doesn't know it's a real date."

"Shut up," I grouch.

"Is this with the girl we met at the Bolt House the other night?"

"Yep." Dane confirms. "The ex best friend who has our boy more whipped than cream."

"Shut up," I repeat as I stand under the punishing spray of high pressure, ice-cold water.

Jamie chuckles. "Good luck. Although I don't think you need it."

I turn off the faucet and run a hand down my face. "Why not? Do you think she's into me?"

"I have no idea. I just mean because you're a chick magnet. "

I shake my head with a sigh. "Yeah, that doesn't work on Olivia."

" Sure ." Dane's still soaping up his pits as he stretches the word.

I basically whip myself with how quick I try to towel dry myself, and skip back out to get dressed.

"Are you in a hurry, Tatum?"

I suck in air and turn while in the middle of zipping up my jeans. "Coach. Hi. Yes. Sorry. I am. I have plans. What's up?"

His eyes are narrowed, mouth pinched as if he was trying to put a complex puzzle together. "Fine, we can talk tomorrow after the game. But no bailing from that conversation."

"I—uh. Everything okay?"

"Yes. More than okay." Except his smile is more a grimace than a demonstration of happiness. "This can wait twenty four hours."

"All right." This is weird enough that, normally, I'd drop everything like a hot potato to figure it out. But Liv's waiting for me, and I can't think of anything in this world that would be more important than this crossroads in my life. One just doesn't walk out of the friendzone with no effort. "Thanks, Coach."

He nods a bit more than necessary and retreats, giving me full permission to resume. I put on my long-sleeve shirt so fast that it bunches up around my torso. But I have to let it be so I can quickly put on my socks and jam my feet in my boots. After making sure every layer is in place and that I'm not flashing anyone, I dump all my things in my sports bag and run.

My boots skid against the floor as I change direction. After badging through a door and walking through a second one, I'm finally in the public area. There are still people milling about but they're all blurs in the periphery. I spot my girl right away, though. Her coat hangs from her arms and the TATUM 3 faces me again.

"Liv."

She turns. "Oh. Hey, Brookie."

I drop my bag. Before she can react, I'm picking her up in my arms and spinning her around. Liv lets out a squeal and has no choice but to wrap her arms around my neck for support. My face is smooshed against her chest and stomach, and I'm momentarily upset that she's wearing so many layers. I have no complaints about her butt basically sitting on my arms, though.

"Oh my word, put me down. Everyone's watching!"

They can watch a bit longer. Like a damn creep, I inhale her rich vanilla scent until it filters through my lungs and into my bloodstream. Slowly, painstakingly, I lower her down to her feet, making sure her body slides down my entire frame. The jersey and the sweatshirt she wears underneath catch against me, and I'm not even apologetic that my hands land on her hips right on top of her leggings. Liv's eyes are wide as she looks up at me.

The corner of my lips rises a notch. "Did you see that?"

"Um." She blinks fast. "You barreling down to pick me up like a toddler in front of basically the whole school?"

"No." I snort. "We won by shutout."

"Oh, that. Yes, I saw it." She shifts until she frees her arms from my grip and places her hands against my chest, where she can probably feel my heart racing faster than I did to find her. Her eyes lower to a spot on my throat. "You played really well. Like, professional-level well. Which I guess is more than really well. You were amazing."

I grin so hard that my face hurts. "Why, thank you. Shall we celebrate with pasta?"

"Sure." Liv shrugs out of my hold to pick up her fallen coat and put it on .

I have a feeling like she won't let me grab her hand on the way out, but I don't let her walk too far. When she tries to get in her car, I grab her by the back of her coat and steer her all the way to the passenger seat of my Jeep Gladiator.

"Did you like the game?" I ask her during the short drive between the arena and Romano's downtown.

"Like is a stretch." She's looking outside the window as she speaks. "But thanks for not giving me a heart attack this time."

I bite down a grin. "You're most welcome. I totally didn't get slashed, hooked, checked, or punched because I knew you were watching."

Liv turns to give me a fierce little glare. I fantasize with grabbing her chin and pulling her in for a quick kiss, and she's only spared because the light's still green.

Even though parking downtown on a Friday night is a pain in the ass, we strut right in to Romano's where a table is already waiting for us. It was the lesser reason why I was in a hurry, to not lose the reservation.

The main reason is across from me. She hangs her coat on the back of the chair and squeezes between it and the table to sit. Then, knowing full well that I'm the size of a mountain, she pulls the table toward her from under the mantle. It gives me enough room to sit down. My knee bumps against her legs before I spread my thighs wider so hers can be comfortable between mine.

Not the first time we do this dance, but the first I realize how perfect we fit.

"Ciao, bambino," Max's mom says next to our table, or more like screams. She turns to Liv. "Your usual pizza or the pasta?"

"Pasta this time, thanks. How's the family doing?" For the first time, Liv smiles a little.

Huh. Why am I only noticing just now ?

"Messy as usual." The older woman looks at me. "And you?"

"The lasagna, please."

"Double?"

I grin. "Of course."

The woman turns over her shoulder and yells. "One order of the gluten free garlic knots!"

Liv and I cringe at the extreme volume of Mrs. Cassiano's voice, and as the matriarch moves onto the next table, my-date-who-doesn't-know-she's-my-date and I have a chuckle.

But then Liv's expression falls again, and I don't know if it's the dimmer lighting in the restaurant, but her eyes seem puffy.

My eyebrows bunch in the middle. "Hey, is there something wrong?"

Her brown eyes snap up to mine. "What? No. Everything's perfect. What did you want to talk about, by the way?"

I know she's deflecting, but I can definitely pivot to this other topic and come back to get the reason she's feeling off out of her later, right when she thinks I forgot about it.

Folding my arms, I lean on the table so I'm closer to her and have to scream less in the noise. "So, you know how every year the team puts out this event to get money out of the boosters and sponsors, right?"

"Right. This was one of Luz and Max's projects together after they announced they were a couple and got their teams to stop acting like turds."

"Correcto," I say, emphasizing the final o in a way that makes her scrunch up her pretty face. "And because they're geniuses, they scheduled it right before Christmas because it's the season of giving."

"Uh huh." A crease appears between her eyebrows. "If you're about to ask me to donate to the cause, you're shit out of luck, pal. There's only dust and dead moths in my wallet."

I shake my head, amused that she's so clueless. "Of course not, you brat. I'm going to ask you to be my date for the event."

"I—" She cuts whatever she was going to say off, eyes bulging. "What?"

"Olivia, will you be my date to the St. Cloud Thunder benefit gala?"

"D-Date?"

She doesn't seem to be processing and I'm ever so helpful. "Yes, date. As in, we dress up nice, I pick you up, we go to the thing together and stick to each other's sides the whole night, and then I convey you home in one piece. Nothing major."

Totally major. Even though I deliver the speech with a smooth voice and a hefty dollop of sarcasm, my heart pounds harder with every second she doesn't respond.

Abruptly, she pushes to her feet. The space is so narrow that her hips bump against the table. I have to grab it before it topples over. "Liv?—"

"Restroom," is all she says.

I twist to watch her disappear down the hallway. Then a shadow appears before me, and it's one of Max's way older brothers putting a basket of gluten free garlic knots on the table.

Well, this is going kind of weird.

I pluck one of the knots from the basket and stuff it in my mouth, folding my arms as I chew. I don't know how to work with this situation. If she'd laughed or straight up said no, I was ready to play the be-my-date-as-friends card like the clown I am. But I have no flipping clue what's going on with her right now. Guess it's time to return to asking her what's wrong.

But then she comes back. I try to stand, but Liv's already swinging a leggings-clad leg over her chair to slide down vertically. She's panting when she finally faces me, and her face is dripping water.

"Yes. "

"What?" I ask.

"Yes, I'll be your date."

I blink hard. "Why do you look like you just agreed to get dental surgery?"

The determined mask in her face cracks a little. "Do I?"

"You do, but no takebacksies." I push the basket toward her. "Now, are you going to tell me what's got you all high strung?"

"There's nothing." Liv grabs one of the knots and tears it open. Steam rises from the dough. "Back to the gala. I've heard it's pretty fancy, is that true?"

"Oh, yeah. Black tie kinda shit."

She wrinkles her nose as she chews. "Dang, I have nothing to wear."

Curse my traitorous mind for picturing her wearing nothing, and my even more traitorous body for reacting to it.

I tap my fingers on the table just as a great idea occurs to me. "Let's go shopping, then. Tomorrow before the game."

Her eyes are still focused on the bread basket as she says, "Okay."

Nice, scoring myself another incognito date. I pump my fist under the table.

Back to the other topic. "So you're seriously all right? Got any bad news or something?"

Liv rests her chin on her fist and looks me dead in the eye. Instead of spilling whatever's bothering her, she says, "So is the gala cocktail formal, or like prom dress formal?"

My eye twitches. We both know I only win battles of will on the ice and never against her. For now, I settle for talking about the event and making plans. There's plenty of time to interrogate her later.