Page 8 of Want You

“Fuck yes!” Amanda shouted when she saw Octavia strutting toward her. “You may win the lotto in that get up.”

“I don’t play the lotto,” Octavia said cluelessly.

“Get noticed by a hockey player, become a future WAG.” She rolled her eyes before turning and presenting the gate agent with her phone to scan the tickets.

“Amanda, I have no interest in hockey players.” Alright, lie, she had interest in one but it was more curiosity based. One night and then she could get it out of her system. Although that ship had sailed.

Octavia didn’t know what to expect, but she didn’t expect to be down by the glass or sitting right next to the penalty boxes for that matter.

“Don’t people pay a fortune for these seats?” She leaned in and asked Amanda.

“I guess so.” She shrugged. “Dad always gets them from clients and when he doesn’t care about the other team, gives them to me or my brother.” Amanda looked around. “If you don’t want one of those.” She smirked, pointing as a stream of players stormed onto the ice. “There are probably some very eligible options in this section.”

High energy music vibrated her seat and drowned out whatever Amanda was still saying as the players began warming up. Octavia jumped every time the puck hit the boards or the glass and felt ridiculous. She understood the game, yet she imagined she looked completely out of place as her body jolted.

“I’m going to get a drink. Do you want anything?” Amanda yelled.

“Water, please.”

Amanda stared down at her. “Seriously?”

She nodded. “Seriously.”

When she was gone, Octavia took her phone out again. Still nothing from Blaze94. He probably was never going to reply, or he was going to surprise her with dick pics. A body crashed into the boards, and Octavia fumbled her phone, catching it right before it hit the concrete floor. When she looked up, she recognized the face looking back at her, his shock mirrored her own before he smiled a big, toothless grin at her. Nathan.

CHAPTER 4

NATHAN

Holy shit. Nathan couldn’t believe that she was sitting right fucking there at his game, looking back at him with as much shock as he felt.

Octavia stared back at him unblinking. It wasn't until he flashed her his grin without his teeth in that she smiled back, a laugh bursting out of her, the sound dulled by the glass between them.

Nathan held up a finger. “One minute,” he shouted before skating back to the bench.

“Skip,” he yelled to the head athletic trainer. “I need a puck and a Sharpie.”

Skip brought him both, and Nathan tore off his glove to write his number on the puck in the silver Sharpie—impressed with himself that he’d managed to write it legibly considering how keyed up he currently felt.

When he got back to the glass, Octavia was no longer alone. The petite brunette with her smiled excitedly as he approached, her gaze bouncing between him and Octavia after he pointed to warn her that he was going to throw the puck over the glass. He watched as it flipped up and over the glass and then as her hands reached up to catch it.

She studied the puck, turning it over in her hands until she saw the number. Those bright green eyes he’d fallen asleep thinking about since running out on her snapped up and he held his hand up to his ear, mouthing, “Call me.” He didn’t skate away until she nodded. And when he did, he could hear her friend scream, “Holy shit!”

Holy shit was right, Nathan thought as he warmed up with his team.

Holy shit, he thought after he assisted on the first goal of the night.

Holy shit, he thought when he ended up in the penalty box, right beside her.

“Holy shit,” he screamed when he ended the night with three points, including a goal. He’d picked up that puck and asked Skip to wrap it in tape and write “Her” on it.

“Holy shit,” he said when he looked down at his phone in the locker room at a text from an unknown number.

Unknown

Good game!

“You going to shower, Berty?” His teammate Masters teased when the rest of the team was already back in the locker room, the smell of Irish Spring and Old Spice masking the smell of sweat and hockey bag.