I take off in a slow jog towards him, until I get within range. I fling my body towards him. Wrapping my arms tightly around his neck, his strong arms flex as they slide around my waist. He lifts me up, spinning me around with a laugh full of joy.
"I'm so fucking proud of you, Vallie." His voice is a murmur in my ear that brings chill bumps to my skin. I squeeze him tighter before he puts me on my feet and pulls away.
"That was amazing, V. You're amazing." His eyes are glowing with delight, and I fight a blush.
I playfully push him. "Why didn't you tell me you'd be in for my game, jerk?" I ask with a smile.
He shrugs. "Figured I'd surprise you and your teammates, you know me, always the saint saving the day." He flicks his head towards my team who are eye raping very scared looking men.
I laugh somewhat, rolling my eyes. "Your teammates would argue that you are quite the opposite of a saint, maybe something similar to a little red man with horns and a tail." I stick my fingers up on my head sticking my tongue out.
"Devilishly handsome." He winks childishly.
I stick my finger in my mouth and fake gag before laughing. Is he handsome? Absolutely. Am I going to tell him that? Hell no.
He throws his arm around my shoulders pulling me closer with a grin. "I must've forgotten that you're immune to the effects of boys." He sighs happily as if my singleness makes him happy.
"Hopefully it stays that way," my dad butts in with a fun-loving glare.
I roll my eyes, poking Bishop in the side with my finger, looking up at him. My body subconsciously clings to his side.
"Hey, sorry about the playoffs. I know how hard you all worked."
He looks down at me, ruffling my hair like I'm a child, which makes my blood boil. Just once I want him to see me as more than just a kid. As his equal, someone he could be with. How can he not see that his touch sets my entire body on fucking fire?
"Ah, it happens. We will get it next year; just have to get a few things settled," he replies.
I raise an eyebrow in a come on look.
"You mean, Nico Jett needs to get his head out of his ass? The first-round draft pick and predicted Calder winner, but barely scored forty points all season? Fuck that shit. I'm surprised the organization hasn't started talking about a trade deal." Bishop starts to chuckle and my dad just shakes his head hiding his laughter.
"You don't have to be so harsh on the kid, it's his first year," my dad inserts with a sly smile.
I throw my hands up. "First year or thirteenth year, Pop. Hockey is hockey. The kid is six feet two, two-hundred and forty pounds. He is plenty big enough to handle the hits. It's all the same, college, high school, NHL, you skate, you pass, you score, and you add a hit or two. He should be able to perform. If he isn't, send him back to Boston."
"Valor─" my dad starts but I just shake my head, interrupting him.
"I mean do you honestly disagree with me?" I ask them both. They stand there silent, both red-faced trying to keep from laughing. A look of confusion paints my face.
"What the hell is up with you tw─" I start but never finish because life decides to throw a big, Fuck you, Valor Sullivan with an extra-large middle finger.
"I'm actually six-three and I'm pretty interested to know if they disagree myself.”
I flinch at the masculine voice behind me. Well isn't that just great.
My gaze immediately shoots to my father and Bishop for help, but those idiots are looking anywhere but at me, while trying to contain their laughter. Fuck those traitors.
I lick my bottom lip. I really don't want to turn around. My body aches in protest as I turn slightly watching him walking towards my father who stands in front of me with a cat who ate the canary smile.
I cringe when Nico reaches forward to shake my father's hand with a smug look. "Pleasure to meet you, sir. I'm Nico, but I think you already know that," he says.
"Fuck my life," I whisper looking up at the ceiling. My face is flame red, as I try to avoid his gaze which is now directed at me. Bishop's arm tightens around my shoulder slightly. I assume he is trying to reassure me in my state of embarrassment.
"And you…you must be the infamous Valor Sullivan I hear so much about. I feel like I already know you. I wasn't expecting you to be this beautiful though." His voice is smoothly mixed with the roughness from his Boston accent.
If my face was red before, it's a fire engine now. My eyes fall to meet his dark blue ones, so dark they look like the color of angry waves. They are intriguing, just not the turquoise gems I so desperately love. I step away from the comfort of Bishop's arms, reaching my hand out to shake his.
Those eyes are twinkling with stars of mischief and it makes me smile softly knowing he isn't mad about the things I said. This is my first ever real-life once over of Nico "Southie" Jett. I swallow the lump in my throat and bite the inside of my cheek. A nervous habit I've done since I was a kid.
Nico is slightly shorter than Bishop, but still just as intimidating to my five-feet eleven frame. His inky black hair is pushed out of his face. It's cropped close to his head on the sides, but the top is long. The color pairs well with his pale complexion. He is built like a hockey player, just slightly leaner, instead of buff.
He's got that boyish face that's slowly morphing into a man, clean-cut. In short, Nico is hot as fuck. He's the type of guy you might bring home to Mama or might break your heart. Just depends on his mood.
"Not immune to all boys I see…" My dad elbows Bishop with a smirk and a laugh.
Oh my fucking GOD. That did not just happen. I groan out loud when Nico laughs.
"Sorry about them, and for…well, you know. I didn't think you were THAT bad. I mean…fuck. You just have a few jitters to get out. You're good, a lot better than most people. I'm sure next year you will be fine, I mean, you're fine now. Wait…shit, not like that. Alright, I'm going to shut up now," I ramble nervously.
See. This is why I don't talk to boys, at all. Because I do this dumb shit. I embarrass myself. I'm a fucking idiot. My God. Miniature Valors are running around in my head screaming as they search for the flirt button, while others continue to work the word vomit machine. My brain is breaking down.
Nico looks shocked at first, but a smile slowly blooms. "Nice to meet you too, Valor." He chuckles.
I take a deep breath and shake my head. "Sorry, call me Sully or Val. Everyone else does. It's nice to meet you, Nico."
Nico was a rookie, just drafted to the Chicago Fury from his hometown in Boston a year ago. Plays right-wing and from what I have seen, the dude is a savage on the ice. He has all the right characteristics, strong poise, an awareness of other players. He is a playmaker, and we needed someone like him. However, his temper on the ice had gotten slightly out of hand during a few games this past season. I'll chalk it up to rookie jitters.
"I don't think I've ever had a girl talk about me like that before," he continues with an arrogant smirk.
Oh. So this is how it's going to be? He's gonna be cocky? As much as I hate that look, it also makes me feel giddy. This is the first time a boy has looked at me like this. Like I'm a girl. Not a hockey player, just a regular girl.