14. First Game

14

First Game

Maxime

I never wanted to kiss someone so much in my entire life, but I had to restrain myself.

If there's one thing the romance novel Hayley recommended has taught me—yes, I finished it last night—it's that timing is everything. I saw in her eyes that she was panicking about the possibility I might kiss her.

As excruciating as it was to hold back, I think I made the right choice, going in for a hug. If I make a move too soon, I might scare her off. I have to wait for her to be ready. From the stories she told me, she hasn't had the best experience when it comes to relationships, and I need to go at her pace.

I'll just have to convince her to go out with me again.

Tonight is my first NHL preseason game, and that's what I should be focused on. It's what I am focused on. These games are a big deal for me, my make-or-break moment. And tonight, that's more true than ever. It's the first time I'll be playing hockey in my new New York Raptors jersey. Pressure is building with every step as I pace around my apartment. I barely slept last night, so I thought I would catch up during an afternoon nap. But here I am, pacing like a lion when I have to be at the arena in an hour. Maybe I can kill two birds with one stone.

Putting on my big-boy pants, I dial Alice's number.

"Hey," she says, answering on the first ring. " ?a va ?"

" Oui . Listen, I have a favor to ask."

She sighs. "Is this about Hayley? Because I—"

"It's not." Well, not technically. "Will you come to my game tonight? Please. I know you're not a fan, but this is my first NHL game. It would be nice to have some support in the stands."

"Oh." I can almost see her biting her lip.

"Please, sis. I can get seats for you and your friends. NHL games are way more fun than my high school ones. It's more like a party. There's food, dancing—the works."

" Je suis désolée , Max. We're going to a play tonight. We've been planning it for months. But maybe we can watch the next one? Anyway, I'm sure you'll do great. I'll try to watch it online during intermission."

My heart falls. "Oh, yeah. Okay. No worries."

" Désolé , Max."

"It's fine, sis. A plus tard ."

"Good luck tonight."

When we end the call, my shoulders slump. Well, that's it. My sister and Hayley aren't coming tonight. I'm on my own. In a way, it's fitting. That's how I've played all my games since I left for college. At least I know Dad will be cheering me on remotely.

Once I finish getting ready, I walk to the arena. The sky is gray today, dark and overcast, and it mirrors how I feel inside. Unsure, stressed, and a little bit sad.

I taped my stick, did a couple of pre-game interviews, received some treatment, and attended the pre-game meeting with everyone. Now, I just have to wait. And that's by far the longest part.

My phone beeps, and I check it, assuming it's my dad again. But my heart leaps when I see Hayley's name.

Nash

Good luck tonight. Sorry we couldn't be there. Go Raptors!

My lips pull into a smile, her encouraging text warming my heart and amping me up even more. Yeah, I got this.

Maxime

Thank you, Nash. It's fine, this time, but I will need to see you cheering me on in the stands at least once this season.

I tap my leg as I wait for her answer. It's always hard to get humor across via text, and I hope she won't take it too seriously. Even if I do really hope she'll come.

Nash

Mmm. I'll see what I can do. Have fun tonight.

"Is that your girlfriend?" Adler asks in a mocking tone. "You look all flushed."

I scoff. "I do not, and no, she isn't."

"Oh, so you wouldn't mind if I gave her a call sometime, then? She's kind of cool." He smirks.

I stand up and look him in the eye. "Back off, Adler. Hayley' s mine."

He bursts into laughter, and so do most of the guys standing around. "So, she is your girlfriend. Just wanted to be sure."

I roll my eyes. "Not yet, but that's going to change soon." I hope so, at least, or else I'm going to go insane.

He gives me a genuine smile this time, squeezing my shoulder. "I'm just messing with you, man. But you need to get your head in the game. Come on, let's go play some ball."

Playing soccer has always been a way to tone down the stress before games, and I know many other players feel the same. We play two touches, which means the ball has to be touched only twice before it hits the ground. We stand in a circle, and the one who loses the ball is out. We keep going until only one player is left.

Adler was right—playing with the guys is a great way to both clear my head and get into a competitive mindset.

Finally, it's almost time for pre-game warmups, and we retreat to the locker rooms to get dressed.

The pressure continues to build. I'm not sure if I'm more anxious about the game itself or having to skate the traditional rookie lap. Because yes, as if this ordeal wasn't stressful enough, I have to do a few laps on the ice alone in front of the entire arena. Their way of welcoming me into the NHL .

It's go time, and judging from the roar of the crowd and the motion in the stands, the arena is already fully packed. I step onto the ice, and the pressure drops almost immediately. I don't know if it's the energy of the fans, the blinding lights, or the skin-numbing cold, but I feel good. I feel at home.

I do a few laps beneath the cheers of the crowd, then shoot—and score, thankfully—a few times into the open net. A cluster of fans are gathered around the glass, tapping on it to get my attention, and I wave at them.

The rest of the team joins me on the ice, and we start our warm-up. This is the fun part, where we just skate, shoot, and practice our maneuvers without any pressure. Fans are interacting with the players, and it's always my favorite moment of the game. The guys toss a few pucks to the kids in the stands and wave at them. But all this attention is new to me, so I try to focus on my warm-up.

I just landed a shot, and I'm skating along the glass when I hear my name called out. I slow down, turning around to see a flash of light-pink hair and the most gorgeous girl on the planet waving at me.

My mouth goes dry, and my heart is sent on a bungee jump .

I skate closer, and there they are. Hayley, my sister, and Emma. They jump up and down when I approach and yell "surprise!"

I shake my head, almost dropping my stick in shock. "You came?"

They nod, applauding as beaming smiles light up their faces. My teammates quickly notice them too and gather around to fist-bump them through the glass or the camera holes. Everyone is smiling, and I can tell the team is happy to see them too. Not as happy as me, though. I don't think that's possible.

"You didn't think I'd miss your NHL debut!" Alice says, loud enough for me to hear, and my heart warms.

"Besides, we wanted to see what the big deal was all about," Hayley says with a playful expression before glancing at Emma, who's nodding in agreement.

"Thanks," I say, locking eyes with Hayley. I become lost in her gaze for a while before realizing I'm on the ice for my first NHL game, thousands of eyes upon me. I nod toward the rink, signaling that I should go. I give them one last smile, and they return it, Hayley with the largest grin I've ever seen her sport. Now, I really have no choice. We need to win. I have to deliver and make my girl proud.

We skate back to the locker room, and Coach gives us a last-minute speech about how this game is not only important, but also a defining moment for our season. As if I didn't know that. Not only is winning preseason games good for morale, but these games are also the first time the coaching staff actually sees us playing together. There are twenty-six of us currently on the team. Six won't make the final roster, and I'm not going to be one of them.

Adrenaline pumps through my veins, the anticipation building as we step onto the ice and take our positions.

Hawthorne wins the first face-off of the night, and we're off to a good start. At first, it feels like everything is moving way too fast and that I won't be able to catch up. But as I skate in and out of play, I start reading the game faster and eventually forget it's my first NHL game. Suddenly, it's just a game. A game my team and I have to win. So I focus all my energy on making that happen.

Coach is encouraging me, liking what he sees, and that boosts my energy even more.

The puck sails down the ice, players crashing into each other in a blur of movement. I follow its path, my eyes locked on the prize. As it slides closer, I dig my skates into the ice as I prepare to make my move.

I go hard at it, not afraid to take risks, and Jones even tells me to slow down a little once I join the bench. But I can't. I've got something to prove. I was first draft pick overall, and that's a huge deal. Something I'll always be proud of. But it won't mean anything if I don't prove to my team, and to all the people that wanted me here, that I have it in me. That I can be a great player in this league and help my team get to the Stanley Cup.

And I will stop at nothing to make that happen.