21. Axl

twenty-one

Axl

The crowd becomes unglued, screaming out explosive cheers as the puck flies past the goalie and into the net seconds before the period ends. I raise my arms in triumph, a victorious grin spreading across my face as the buzzer sounds. When the second period is over, momentum has shifted in Granite Ice’s favor. It’s the best possible thing that could happen. Coach has his NHL friend, Mike Stevens, in the owner’s box today, and he’s been glued to my every move.

My stomach has been a fireball of nerves all day, and I can’t believe after all the years of hard work and sacrifice, my dreams might finally come true. Sure, I had a little help from Sophie and that ridiculous stunt we pulled, but the NHL isn’t here to look at my social media photos. They are here to watch me play.

Sweat beads down my brow, and I swipe it away just as Noah raises his glove to give me knuckies, and together we skate off the ice for intermission. Usually, the music is on by now, pumping the team and crowd back up. It’s oddly quiet until the chords of an acoustic guitar cut into the intercom system. It’s so out of place that it pricks my ears. Sometimes the team managers allow a special spotlight on a local charity cause, and I cut a glance to the overhead screens, immediately wishing I hadn’t.

Cold sweat slides down my back.

I’m in a nightmare.

My blood runs frigid through my veins, and my heart ramps up at turbo speeds. This can’t be happening. I slowly scan the crowd, praying it’s my imagination playing tricks on me, but all the fans are glued to the screen, too.

Full center on the screen, Sophie stands on the ice and in front of the camera with a junkie guitar strapped around her shoulders, and she’s strumming away like we’re about to impart on some parade. My throat dries and I wish I could scream out, but that would only draw more attention to whatever stunt she’s playing. I pinch my arm, praying I wake up from this nightmare, but nothing happens. This is no nightmare—this is real.

Just when I think it can’t possibly get any worse, she opens her mouth and begins to sing. She has a lovely voice, but it doesn’t take a genius to see what’s happening when she belts out the first phrase.

I know my apology won’t take back

The fact that I hurt you.

But please know I’m sorry

With every word in this song

This is the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me. I raise my glove over my brow and cringe as heat floods to my face. Is she seriously up there making a fool of herself to apologize? Did she purposely not make it rhyme? She has to know this song is terrible.

With the NHL coach watching me, this is the biggest night of my career.

This can’t be happening.

I shoot daggers out of my eyes, running my hand over my throat, signaling her to cut out, but she just keeps singing.

I'm sorry for my selfishness

I'm sorry I hurt you

But it was never my intention

The overhead screen splits, and now one side shows me, and I’m dying. The whole crowd knows the song is about me, and my face fires hotter than an oven. I have to take matters into my own hands, and I skate toward her, and everyone in the crowd holds their collective breath. You can hear every slice of my skate, and I’m at a loss at what to do. She’s completely lost her mind, but if I’m a prick and run my mouth—the way I usually do—I’m surely going to get kicked off the team. My reputation will also be ruined, because I guarantee every starry-eyed female in this room right now is rooting for us to get back together.

It can’t happen.

But Sophie will not stop singing!

I thought I was strong, but now I’m trembling,

My heart is quaking inside my chest.

I fight to hold on but it’s all quicksand.

“Sophie,” I growl. “Stop it. You’re making a fool out of yourself.”

She just keeps singing , “Maybe that’s what this kiss was meant to do?”

“Sophie, this isn’t helping anything.” She clearly can’t see how ridiculous this looks. Unless she does see . . . but doesn’t care.

Maybe that’s the point?

Maybe she’s purposely embarrassing herself to make a point. My brows lower, and I tune into her not-melodic lyrics.

Force us both to change.

Do you need some more apologies?

I'm sorry I made you feel less than the amazing person you are

But most of all, I'm sorry for not kissing you more when I had the chance, because I really like kissing yooooou.

The women in the crowd start to chant, “Kiss her,” and I’m frozen. Sophie keeps singing these terrible lyrics and putting herself out there in the most public way, and she wouldn’t be doing this if she didn’t want to. If it didn’t mean something to her.

All I can do is apologize and hope that one day you'll forgive me.

So, kiss me again.

I can make up verses all night. It’s in your best interest to kiss me now.

It’s only going to get worse.

She’s right about her song getting worse!

She’s not even singing on key. It’s as if she wants to humble herself, but as ridiculous as this is, she looks beautiful. Her hair is long and straight and falls in front of one shoulder as she leans over and strums her guitar.

My gaze slides to the owner’s box, and Bill and Mike are getting a front-row seat to all of this.

Figures.

It’s hopeless.

I’m sure she’s already destroyed any chances of me getting signed by now.

The crowd chants louder, “Kiss her,” and I’m doomed.

At this point, kissing her seems to be the only way she’ll ever stop singing.

If I hadn’t lived through these last couple of weeks, I wouldn’t believe any of the events could even be possible—that I could fall for someone from just one kiss.

And here she is, fighting for another chance and willing to risk total humiliation. I’m not a monster. She’s only human.

And just like that, I melt.

All the tense energy falls from my head and is replaced with a pooling in my heart. Tears prick the back of my eyes, and I can’t believe how close I came to screwing this up and missing it completely. Before I talk myself out of it—and before Sophie can make up an even worse verse—I skate to the exit and walk to meet her.

Her hand freezes mid-strum, and her gorgeous green eyes hover on mine. “Can we just start over?” Her plea tumbles out, and she’s not even trying to be discreet.

“We can’t start over.” My rasp is quick and assertive, and I don’t wait for permission as I lean in and wrap my arms around her waist, digging my fingers lightly into the small of her back. “Remember. I meant what I said. The whole thing has changed, and there’s no going back.”

Her breath audibly hitches, like she’s holding back a hiccup. I raise my hand, cupping her cheek. Her eyelids lower, hooding her eyes, and I curl my toes in anticipation. My fingers sprawl out to tickle just below her ear, and I tip her chin up until our lips brush together, and we both confirm everything has changed.

And the crowd goes wild.

Oh yeah, we do come back for the third period and win our game. I was offered a contract, but after consulting my heart, I decided it wasn’t the best fit for me right now. I want to stay in Mapleton for another year. This little town and their Granite Ice team have taken my heart by storm. Not to mention, Sophie played a bit of a role in it.