Breaking The Rules | Complete

Chapter 13

 I had never been to a college hockey game.

When the friends I had in freshman year asked me to go, I'd always decline. Then I started dating Miles and he cared even less about sports than I did. There was nothing exciting to me about guys skating around while chasing a puck. And because of that I didn't feel like I was missing out on much.

Until I found myself inside Fenton's arena.

Maverick led me past a crowd that was swarming around the concession stand. The buttery scent of popcorn wafted around the air, tempting me to come back and get some once we found our seats. As we made our way towards the rink doors, I was becoming more and more concerned about our ability to find any.

Maverick's stood at least a head taller than the other patrons. It was the only reason I hadn't gotten lost in the hustle and bustle of pre-game festivities. I wasn't short. Not by any means. But even my long legs struggled to keep up with his lengthy strides. All I could do was keep my eyes glued to the back of his letterman jacket as I maneuvered my way through a group of guys who weren't concerned about running into anyone.

By the time Maverick had made it to the heavy metal doors, I was still a few steps behind. Instead of waiting for me he made his way inside, disappearing out of view.

Clearly our chat a few nights ago didn't change much about the disdain he had towards me.

When I made it through the rink doors I paused on the other side. This would have been a nightmare for anyone with social anxiety. The stands were already packed with people clambering to find a seat. There was a low buzz of conversation that mixed with the heavy guitar playing over the speakers.

The rink was building with anticipation as the two teams stepped onto the ice for pre-game warm ups. The game hadn't even started yet and my skin was tingling. If it wasn't for the layers I was wearing, I would have thought it was from the cold. I brought my arms over my chest, rubbing at the rough material of Easton's jersey.

In Booker's words, it was imperative that I wore a Falcon's jersey. Especially if I was going to be cheering them on with Maverick from the sidelines.

But my cheerleading partner had vanished in the chaos and I was left to wander through the maze of college students without him. I scaled the steps two at a time, unsure how much longer I had until the game started. It wasn't until I was scooting through a row that I spotted the familiar black and blue letterman jacket with the name 'Sousa' embroidered across the back.

He was down by the ice talking to a small group of girls. I tried not to think too much about what had happened earlier—how I'd walked in on him doing the nasty with one of his many fuck friends. But that was difficult to do when the image of his inked skin was seared into my mind. The way the muscles in his back and ass flexed with each thrust. The easy grin he was giving those girls now. I wondered what it would be like to have him look at me like that.

The sound of a wayward puck hitting the glass caused me to jump. I blinked away from him, reminding myself of the reason I was standing up there in the first place.

I hurried to the first couple of empty seats I could find and bunkered down. Even if Maverick chose not to watch the game with me, I would be kind enough to save him a spot.

The players were still warming up on the ice. And while most of the audience was either chatting amongst themselves or zoned in on the drills happening down below, I could help but become aware of just how much attention Maverick was receiving.

People noticed him. I mean, really noticed him. He wasn't even playing, but he was still gaining gobsmacked looks. If he noticed, he didn't act like it.