“This afternoon?” I yelp.
“Right. Good, good,” Georgia says, distracted by the chaos of an entire hockey team beginning to descend on the hotel lobby. It’s almost time for their scrimmage. “Have fun with it,” she says before waving me off.
“Lord,” I mutter under my breath. “Like I’ll ever figure out how to do that.”
“Do what?” Wilson says from close range.
I startle at the sound of his voice. Violently.
“Whoa,” he says, catching my elbow. “Easy there. Something wrong?”
My face reddens. I don’t even know what to say to him anymore. He’s saved my ass so many times this week, and then I missed my big chance with him.
Then I tilt my chin up to see his wide face, with those big hazel eyes with the smile crinkles in the corners. And I decide that maybe that girl in the hallway last night was wrong. This rugged, self-assured creature could not have been hitting on me. That’s just impossible.
I feel better suddenly. I didn’t waste a thing. It was all in my imagination. “Nothing is the matter,” I tell him. “Are you ready to scrimmage?”
“Born ready. The crowd at these things is fun, too. Bunch of kids and their families, you know? They’re pumped up to watch pro hockey in a small venue. Be ready, though—it’s loud in there. Like, ear plugs would be a good idea.”
“Noted,” I say, returning his smile. “Maybe I’ll get some fun footage of little kids geeking out over hockey.”
“There you go,” he says, only it sounds a bit like dere you go with his accent.
I take a deep breath. “I know I said it already, but you’ve helped me so much this week. I really appreciate it.”
He winks. That’s all I get—a cryptic wink—before he strides across the lobby to catch the bus to the rink.
* * *
Up until now, I’ve toiled for a team that was mostly on vacation. While I worked in the Bruisers’ offices, the players were on vacation.
Still, I felt like I understood the organization. I’ve worked in several capacities in the business office. I’ve crunched their numbers. I’ve toured the vaunted dressing room, with the Brooklyn seal in the center of the carpet. And now I’ve met the team at training camp.
I thought I knew Brooklyn hockey. But I was wrong. Nothing could have prepared me for my first live scrimmage in a small venue. The speed! The crash of the men against the plexi! The muscle and sweat!
It’s exciting on TV, but it’s overwhelming in person.
Now that my internship is nearly over, I finally see what I’ve been working on.
And it’s amazing.
Even the crowd is a bit of an education. The kids are on their feet with excitement. The cheers are deafening. And when the guys skate off after each period, there’s a line of children waiting at the edges of the chute for a fist bump. One little girl is decked out head to toe in Bruisers purple. She’s onto something, too, because she’s getting more fist-bump action than the other little kids around her.
As the third period begins, I realize that I’ve only taken sporadic video. I’ve been too enthralled to think much about the social media possibilities. But now there’s nineteen minutes on the clock, so I have to think fast.
I shoot some slo-mo video of faceoffs, which will be fun. But Georgia said to try something about myself. That’s still an uncomfortable idea, though, until I realize I can take a page out of the children’s book. I can set up a shot of me interacting with every player on his way off the ice.
It’s unoriginal. But it’s the best idea I’ve got at the moment. So I peel myself away from the game and put my plan into action.
By the time the final buzzer rings, I’m positioned in the hallway, my phone taped to a light fixture on the opposite wall. And—thanks to a cardboard Gatorade carton that I carefully repurposed with markers and hockey tape—I’m holding a hand-lettered sign that reads: SUMMER INTERNS LOVE FIST BUMPS.
I probably look ridiculous. But I actually don’t mind. Hockey is glorious, and I’m here to celebrate it with the people of TikTok.
It seems to take forever until the first hockey players are clomping toward me in their skates. I hold my sign in one hand and keep my fist bumping hand free. And it works! O’Doul gives my fist a bump on his way past, and so do the goalies—Mike and Silas.
After that, it’s a blur of hockey greatness stopping in front of me. With wet hair, and helmets under their arms like astronauts, almost every one bumps my fist and grins as he passes by.
This is amazing. This is better than the internship at Goldman Sachs. What was I even thinking? I’m wearing a wide smile, and I know this video will be a success, because I finally did what Georgia had asked.
Just have fun with it, she’d said. Look at me having all the fun!
Trevi bumps my fist. “Nice goal!” I call and he smiles. Then come Castro, Crikey, and Drake. Bump. Bump. Bump.
More than a dozen players pass me before I spot Wilson. His face is flushed from exertion and his hair is a mess. But I still get a big smile as he approaches.
And this is the moment I turn my sign around so that the reverse shows.
If this works, it will make a cute little plot twist in my forty-five second video. Of course I picked Wilson for this, because he’s such a good sport that I’m ninety-nine percent sure he’ll go along with it.
Okay, eighty percent sure. Maybe sixty percent. The closer he gets, the more exposed I feel. This was a dumb idea. And now it’s too late to do anything about it. His eyes lock onto the sign, which now reads FREE HUGS.
Except I’d forgotten that the players would be holding a stick and a helmet. And this is a narrow corridor, so stopping to hug me will hold up the line.
Oops.
But it’s too late. Wilson looms over me and I brace myself for him to just walk past. I mean, I can just trim the video before this disaster, right?
But then Wilson drops his gloves and his stick—actually drops them right on the floor with a smack. And he presses his helmet into his teammate’s hands.
All my blood stops circulating, because I think I’m about to get a big, sweaty hug from the player who makes my heart beat faster. And, wow. I’m a little nervous, and a little turned on. I could almost shout my body is ready!
But thank goodness I don’t, because it’s already happening. I’m suddenly airborne as powerful arms scoop me up off the floor. Oh, wow. This is quite a hug. I wrap my arms around him and squeeze, bracing myself for the disappointment of it ending.
Except it doesn’t. Bright eyes loom closer. They’re focused on my mouth, of all places. That’s when the possibility of Wilson’s kiss lights up inside me—the kiss I could have had last night, if I hadn’t stupidly turned him down.
And just the idea is so overpowering that I actually go a bit limp in his arms.
My back hits the wall. And then it happens in slow motion. Generous lips find mine. Wilson’s kiss is firm and thorough. I can’t help myself. I part my lips beneath his, tilting my head up for more.
Wilson lets out a sexy grunt, and when his tongue slips onto mine, I feel it everywhere. He tastes like salt and hungry man. The kiss goes deep and wild. Or maybe that’s just me. I lock my arms around him, one hand in his damp hair, and I hold on for dear life.