Nate POV

The locker room was a zoo. Loud with post-win chaos. Sweat-slicked bodies, towels whipping, guys hollering over bass that made the walls throb. The air was thick with that unmistakable mix of damp gear, deodorant, and stale victory.

Liam was half-naked and already talking about which bar had the coldest beer and the hottest waitstaff.

I should’ve been hyped. I played like a goddamn machine tonight. Clean passes, brutal backchecks, and a goal that rattled the crossbar on its way in. The kind of night that earns you a star and a highlight reel.

But I wasn’t thinking about the game. I was glued to my phone, staring at a message from the girl who made me play like I had something to prove.

Riley: Number 17 was good. Not like, life-changing. But above average.

Above average. She had no idea.

I grinned like an idiot, shoulders loosening, adrenaline swapping out for something stupidly close to giddy.

Liam noticed. “Why do you look like you just got laid or scouted for the Olympics?”

“Neither,” I said, tossing a towel over my head. “Just vibing.”

He didn’t buy it. “Vibing? You never vibe.”

I shrugged. “Tonight I do.”

I replayed her words in my head while I peeled off my gear. Every move I’d made on the ice, I’d made for her. The drive, the finish, the backcheck, the celly, I’d played like she was watching.

Because she was.

And she didn’t even know.

Didn’t know I was #17.

Didn’t know she’d just watched me go off in full game mode.

Didn’t know she sent that text to the guy she just watched dominate.

That was either hilarious or pathetic. I couldn’t decide which.

I replied, leaning back on the bench like I wasn’t completely whipped.

Me: Only above average? Damn. That’s a tough crowd.

Riley: It’s hockey. Don’t let it go to your head.

Me: Too late.

Riley: Cocky much?

Me: Confident. There’s a difference.

Riley: Hmm

She hit me with a “hmm.”

I’d scored goals in front of twenty thousand people and felt less affected than by one smug little hmm from her.

Across the room, Liam was still talking about some setup.

“So when’s she meeting Jace?” he asked someone.

I sat up straighter. “Who’s meeting Jace?”

Liam smirked. “Riley. Avery says they’d be cute. She’s dragging her to the next charity event.”

I was already standing before my brain caught up.

“You good?” Liam blinked up at me.

“Yep,” I lied, shoving my shit into a bag. “Just remembered I have somewhere to be.”

“Now? Where?”

“Somewhere that sells muffins.”

I didn’t wait for a reply. Just hauled ass out of the locker room, helmet still in hand, heart pounding like the third period was about to start again.

Because no way in hell was she ending up with Jace.