What Are The Odds?: A college hockey romance. (Phil-U Book 1)
What Are The Odds?: Chapter 59

Grace.

I adjusted the beanie before combing my wavy hair over my shoulders. The Phil-U colours were new to me, but I could totally get around them. I’d stolen the beanie from Levi. Luckily he had more than one. He walked out of the bathroom, stopping to do a double take. His lips pulled up, stretching into a full grin.

“Looks good.”

“Yeah?”

“Big time.”

He came up behind me, arms locking around my shoulders while he nuzzled his lips against my neck. Involuntary goose bumps broke out as I giggled, trying to dodge him. I was extremely ticklish there and he knew it. Laughing, he pulled back.

“I’ve got something else for you.”

He disappeared into his wardrobe, re-emerging holding a folded item of clothing. He seemed nervous, like he’d just handed me a loaded bomb. I wasn’t used to witnessing Levi as anything other than confident.

“What’s this?”

I unfolded it. It was a hockey jersey. The team logo took up the majority of the front, and there was a C over the left breast. Holding it at arm’s length, I turned it around. Holloway was printed on the back, above the number 20. Levi leant against the wall, anxiously studying me studying the jersey. It took me a moment to realise what was happening.

“I want you to have it,” he said.

He fidgeted nervously, regarding me expectantly like there was a chance I’d knock him back. Not a bloody chance. I tucked the jersey against my chest.

“This is, like, a really big deal for you, isn’t it?”

Levi nodded. “Especially big. I’ve never asked a girl to wear my jersey before.”

Grinning, I ripped off my jacket, then jumper, then knit, then manically slipped on Levi’s jersey. It was way too big. It dropped down to my mid-thigh, and I had to roll up the sleeves so they didn’t cover my hands. I gripped the hem in my palms, pulling it up to my nose. Despite being clean, it still smelt like Levi. My favourite scent in the world. I stretched out my arms and spun around.

“What do you think?”

Grinning, Levi smoothed my hair over my shoulders. I must’ve messed it up. His tongue darted out to wet his lip.

“I think we’re about to tick something off my list.”

His mouth claimed mine in a kiss that was just as possessive as this jersey.

“Do we have time?” I asked against his lips.

“It’ll be worth being late,” he growled back.

He was dressed in his suit, which included a lot of buttons on his shirt. Too many buttons. We didn’t have time for that. Though I could make quick work of his zip. Just as I reached for it, there was a knock on the door. We both stilled.

“Time to go, Cap,” Tripp called out.

Groaning, I lolled my head back. Timing sucked. Snickering, Levi placed one last, chaste kiss against my lips.

“Later,” he vowed.

“Later,” I agreed.

*

I was on the edge of my seat. Literally. The score was level, 3-3, with less than two minutes of the third period. It’d been an intense game, full of penalties and fluke shots. Levi had scored the first goal, Will had nailed the next, and Tripp brought up the third. On the ice they worked in sync. Passing to each other without looking, being in the right spot to take possession when they needed. I’d thoroughly enjoyed seeing all six-foot-three of Levi dressed in a fitted suit earlier. Now I was enjoying a different version. One that was so bloody fast, and so bloody clever on the ice that I was feeling hot and bothered despite it being near freezing in here.

“I can’t look,” Ava ground, hiding behind her hands.

I was tempted to do the same. The clock ticked down. Ninety-seconds left. Levi skated to the bench, slipping between the gap in boards while a player climbed over them and took his place. It’d been a competitive game. Thankfully Levi hadn’t taken part in any of the quarrels. I couldn’t say the same for Tripp. He was fiery out there. It was hard to comprehend. He was nothing but jokes and silliness off the ice. Sixty seconds. We lost possession of the puck. And with most of our players having been in our attacking zone – or whatever it was called – it meant it was a two-on-one as Ryan skated backwards, eyes focussed on the puck that was being passed between two players. I held my breath as the opposition player reared back his stick and swung the puck towards the net. Our goalie sunk to the ice, wedging the puck beneath his pads. The crowd let out a collective gasp. That’d been way too close. Levi and Will jumped the boards, preparing for their final shift of regulation. Unless they scored in the next thirty seconds, we’d be going to overtime. I knew way more today than I had last time. But only the basics still.

“Can it end on a draw?” Stella questioned.

“No. They’ll play five minutes of overtime. If someone scores within that time, the game is over.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Penalty shootout.”

I hoped it wouldn’t come to that. That sounded bloody nerve-racking. I could only imagine what that was like for the goalie. And the players taking the shots. The buzzer sounded, signifying the end of regulation. All the players slowed their skating, catching a momentary breather. I glanced up at the jumbotron. Levi’s face was cast on it. He chewed his mouthguard between his teeth, his eyebrows etched in concentration.

“I need to do a nervous wee,” I announced. “Be right back.”

I climbed the many steps back to the bathrooms. The tickets Levi had given me were at the very front, among the other girlfriends and families. Being the captain’s girlfriend, especially dressed in his jersey, I’d received plenty of attention tonight. Sometimes I forgot how big of a deal Levi was when it came to hockey. It wasn’t just something he did between classes. He was a face to market Phil-U. An investment in the hockey department. A personality to attract future players. Even now, plenty of people wore his jersey. Stocky men. Young kids. Attractive girls. He was a big deal to a lot of people. And he was only going to become a bigger deal once he started playing for Colorado. By the time I waited in the bathroom line then returned to my seat, the players were skating back onto the ice. Levi, Will and Morrison were starting.

“Why do they play 3-on-3 in overtime?” Ava asked.

“No idea,” I admitted.

Levi got into position for the face off. I was so bloody nervous. I hated that I couldn’t see his face. Stupid hockey helmet. Though something told me he wouldn’t be nearly as nervous as me. He probably wasn’t nervous at all. He had faith in his abilities out there. He belonged on the ice. The puck went back and forth for ninety seconds, one team gaining possession only for a bad pass or save from the goalie sending it backwards. After his shift, Levi sat on the bench, eyes laser focussed on the game. Mine were laser focussed on him. Pure muscle I knew I’d get to climb into bed with tonight. After more back and forth, Levi hit the ice for another shift. Probably his last of the game. Will passed to him immediately, letting Levi’s fresh legs take control. He reared his arm back, taking a shot at goal. His accuracy was perfect. The puck headed in the right direction. But it rebounded off the goalie.

“Damn,” Stella mumbled.

I fought a smile. She was a lot more invested in this game than she had been at Ryker’s. The other team moved the puck between them, narrowing in on their goal. Or ours. I wasn’t sure how it was referred to. Whatever the right way, it was in the danger zone. I held my breath. Morrison charged at their player with possession, slamming him into the wall. The puck came loose. Will scooped it up, making an immediately long pass to Levi who was alone, away from the other players. Half-way down the ice. My heart stopped beating as the crowd erupted, feet stamping and voices shouting. The puck landed perfectly against Levi’s stick. He turned, setting in the direction of our goal. The other team were skating toward him at full pelt, but they weren’t going to catch him. He was too fast. He danced the puck from side to side, body positioned in pure determination. The goalie crouched down, gaze moving in sync with Levi’s movements.

“Oh my god,” Ava gasped.

I couldn’t sit still. Levi skated to the edge of the goal. Just when it looked like he was about to glide past the pole, he moved his stick between his legs, knocking the puck into the net. The crowd went wild as the buzzer sounded, signalling the goal. I, along with practically every other supporter, sprung out of my seat, jumping up and down and clapping wildly. The team enveloped Levi, everyone leaving the bench and swarming the ice. Loud music began to play as the arena lights danced in tune with the song. My heartbeat pounded in time with it, too. The atmosphere in here was electric. Everyone was buzzed and excited. After a long celebration, Levi managed to break through the team, a smile on his own face as he skated away. He headed towards me, strides long and purposeful. I felt butterflies in my stomach and a giddiness rise up from my toes. The crowd were still cheering behind me, going wild after the crazy win. I barely noticed them. And I don’t think Levi did either. He pressed his gloved hand to the glass, right in front of where I was standing. It was too loud to make out what he was saying. Not that I needed to. The fact he was here said enough. Out of all the people here, he wanted to share this moment with me. And out of the many fans wearing his jersey, I was the only person wearing a real one. One he’d played in. One he’d won in. But that was also a heavy realisation. Levi’s life was hockey. This was where he belonged. I couldn’t, and wouldn’t, get in the way of that.