Chapter 35 The morning after we return from our Canada trip, I'm exhausted. But my alarm zings to life and I reluctantly roll away from Ally and out of bed. We have early practice today, despite the last few days of the team being on the road, and as much as I want to stay curled around Ally, I also still want to prove myself as an asset to the Lions. I've learned that Ally doesn't have to be a distraction. She can be an incredible addition to my life, an encourager and champion of my goals, just like I am for her...but not if I stay in this bed and skip practice. Not to mention Coach Anderson would have my ass, and Coach Slater would make me skate a hundred laps. Ally stretches beneath the covers just like Harry does. She blinks sleepily up at me. "You have practice?" I nod, grabbing my phone off the nightstand and slipping on my slides. "I'll make us some protein shakes," she says with a yawn, rolling out of bed. I chuckle at the sight of her blonde hair that's a mess of tangles around her face. She spins in a circle, looking for something. "I can't find a hair tie." Her gaze drops to my wrist where her purple hair tie still rests, and she arches an eyebrow. "Nope. This one's mine." Ally smirks, opening a drawer on her vanity and grabbing a scrunchie out of it. She quickly brushes the knots out, then pulls her hair back in a messy bun before she walks over and hugs me around the waist. I kiss the top of her head. "Good morning," I say. She hums, and the happy sound makes my heartbeat quicken. My stomach growls, and she pats my abs. "Let's get you some food." I pull away reluctantly and open her bedroom door, both of us shuffling through the doorway, smiling at each other. We round the corner together and come face to face with Penn and Fisher, who are sitting at the island eating breakfast. They have a clear view of my bedroom door from where they sit, and it's obvious I came from Ally's room, and so did she. And as if that wasn't enough, she's wearing one of my hoodies. "Well, well, well," says Penn with a barely contained grin. Fisher shoves a piece of toast into his mouth and dusts his hands off. "Interesting," he says around his bite of food. I glance at Ally to find her pretty face turning beet red. "Protein shakes?" I remind her to give her something to focus on besides the two nosey goofballs we live with. She nods and scurries into the kitchen to prepare the shakes. I shoot the guys a look that says don't make a big deal out of this. Their response is widening their eyes and nudging each other with their elbows. Because of course they're going to make the biggest deal possible of it. Ten minutes later, I'm sliding into the backseat of Fisher's G Wagon, wishing I would've just driven myself to practice this morning as the guys both turn around to look at me. I immediately place my headphones over my ears and take a sip of my shake. "Oh, come on!" Penn says, throwing his hands up. "We need details." "Juicy details," Fisher adds. I turn the volume up on my music and turn to look out the window. I'm working on opening up, but Rome wasn't built in a day. Once we're at the iceplex and skating onto the ice, I'm without my armor-aka, my headphones-and my roommates won't leave me alone. To make matters worse for me, the coaches have us on the same team for practice today. We're practicing our power kill-which is when we're wasting away the other team's power play-and I move my body in front of Sandine, who's on the opposing team. Someone shoots the puck to him, but I snag it with my stick before he can, whipping it to the offensive end. He groans and skates after it, and soon Penn and Fisher are on either side of me, all three of us crouched into a defensive position as Sandine and Carver come back with the puck. "You can't avoid us forever," Fisher says. "Yeah, Downsby. This is the second time now I've seen you come out of her room." Penn levels me with a speculative glance. Fisher's brows fly up. "Damn, didn't realize this little crush of yours had escalated into multiple bedroom dates." I sigh heavily. These are my friends, my guys, my family. If I can't talk to them about Ally, who can I talk to? Besides, it's becoming impossible to hide this thing between us, and I don't want them-especially Fisher, who knows what happened to Ally last spring-to think she's just a hookup or something. "I think I'm in love with Ally," I blurt before rushing forward and trying to snap the puck away from Sandine again. I don't reach him in time, and he shoots the puck at our goalie, who makes a stick save. A faceoff is set up and the reprieve from action has me thinking about the words I just spoke. I think I'm in love with Ally. Wait, that's not what I meant to say. That was too much, too soon. I clearly don't know how to do this 'opening up' thing... Penn and Fisher skate close to me, crouching down and ready to snag the biscuit if we win the faceoff. They're both staring at me like I'm an exotic animal on display at the zoo or something. I squeeze my eyes shut, regretting my choice of words. Not because it's not true-I know, if I'm being honest with myself, that's how I feel-but because that's a lot of information to trust these two hooligans with. "Wow, okay, that's not what I was expecting," Fisher finally says. "Love?" Penn asks, his voice rising a whole octave. Our team wins the faceoff and we all skate quickly down to the offensive zone. Carver steals the puck away and rushes it back to the defensive zone where he scores on a breakaway. Mitch uses his whistle to indicate we have a break, and I remove one of my gloves and let it drop to the ice. I swipe my hand across my sweat-dampened face, but the sweat keeps coming. Penn and Fisher skate up next to me, clearly waiting for me to continue explaining. Does opening up to your friends always make people this itchy? "Shit, I didn't mean to say love. I just really like her, okay?" I feel too flustered and hot and agitated to be honest with them. Penn's mouth slowly curves into a smirk, then his head falls back, and he laughs. Fisher grins and his arm goes around Penn's shoulders as he gazes at me like he's a proud dad. "Our little Downsby is all grown up and in love," Fisher says. "I'm never telling you two anything again," I mutter, turning to skate away. Penn reaches out and grabs my arm, stopping me. "Oh no you don't, get back here." I stop but cross my arms, glaring at them. Penn takes one look at my defensive stance and huffs an unbelieving laugh. "That's it," I mutter, and Penn's face suddenly grows serious, and he holds up his hands. "Sorry, sorry. I'll stop. I've just never seen you like this before, Noah. Over a girl, or hockey, or...anything. You're completely obsessed with her, huh?" I tut. "I'm not obsessed." But I can feel the heat rising to my face. And just like that, Penn's moment of seriousness evaporates, and my two idiot roommates start punching each other's arms and pinching their mouths closed with their teeth so their squeals are muffled into small squeaks. Clearly, they can hardly contain their excitement over this; they're acting like my nieces right now. "Downsby, Matthews, Fisher! What in the hell are you doing!" Mitch's thundering yell comes from the edge of the ice, and we all snap to attention. I'm horrified to see that sometime during this inane conversation we missed the whistle and the faceoff forming at center ice. Sandine sneers at us. "This isn't high school, ladies. This is the National Hockey League. So how about you stop your giggling and get your asses over here?" I'd roll my eyes, but Mitch is glaring at me. The three of us skate to center ice and get into position. When I'm close enough, Sandine whispers under his breath, "Some of us actually have to work at practice because we're not buddies with the coach." I glide my tongue across my front teeth to keep from saying something I'll regret. I'm here to work, not gossip with Penn and Fisher...I just got sidetracked with all their questions. We're playing the Sacramento Fire Cats next weekend and their power play skills are impressive, so this practice is crucial, I get it. But Sandine is giving me whiplash. One day he's got a stick up his ass and hates me, then the next he's telling me I did a great job. For the rest of practice, I give it my all, not allowing myself to become distracted by Penn and Fisher's taunting looks and prying questions. Sandine seems appeased with my performance and leaves me alone. Once we're all in the locker room taking off our gear, Coach Anderson and Coach Slater come in, standing in the center of the room. Mitch clears his throat. "Not bad out there, boys. You all know the Fire Cats have the top power play in the league right now, so let's try not to get stupid penalties." Coach Slater smirks. "Yeah, only smart penalties." Coach Anderson levels him with an unamused stare. "You all know what I mean. Don't give those guys power plays. And if it happens, use the penalty kill tactics we practiced today." The coaches leave through the back door toward their offices and when I look over at Penn, I see his jaw is clenched and his fists are balled by his sides. "You gonna be okay playing against that asshole?" I ask, keeping my voice low. "Yes," he grits out, knowing exactly which Fire Cats player I'm talking about. "I just hate that guy. He's a dirty player." He's right. Even in college, Chad-dick knew how to make it look like the opposing team got a penalty. Those tricks earned him plenty of power play goals. "You got this, man," I nudge him with my shoulder. "We've beat him before." Penn and Noah: two Frozen Four championship titles. Chad-dick: zero Frozen Four championships. "You're right," he says on a sigh, relaxing his hands. I wait for a moment, making sure he's okay when suddenly his frown morphs into a grin. "Anyway, we better get you home, loverboy." Fisher makes kissy noises from my other side. I groan. I should've known we couldn't go more than ten minutes without a comment about Ally. Discover our latest featured short drama reel. Watch now and enjoy the story!