COMPLETED. A university student. A professional hockey player. They've proved they can be friends. Can they be more?
Although they're both in their early twenties and living in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada, their lives couldn't be more different. Cami...
Dec 19, 2021: This was the first bonus chapter I wrote, when I first decided to have Camille and Taylor end up together.
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I was going to barf.
Seriously.
There was simply no way that I would manage to keep the contents of my stomach down with the anxiety tearing through my body.
The problem was that I was completely surrounded by equally anxious (if that was possible) bodies donning blue and white jerseys. And these bodies were loud. Cheering, screaming, cursing...all of the above, depending on what was going down at the ice level.
So, unless I wanted to project my insides onto the shiny bald head in front of me, I better take a deep breath to steady myself.
Just as I let out the longest exhalation I didn't even know my lungs were capable of producing, a hand clamped down on my forearm and squeezed. Hard.
I glanced up at Sofia, her stunning face a few shades paler than normal.
"They're going to do it," I croaked, my voice drowning out in the crowd.
She just nodded and clenched the arm of her husband, James.
He hadn't said much at all in the past ten minutes and I didn't blame him. It was a hell of a lot to process; the entire game was. It was the seventh game of the fourth round of the playoffs, which meant that this was It. This was the game in which the Stanley Cup would be awarded. The home team was the Saints which mean that about 99% of the people in attendance so desperately wanted Toronto to be the one to come out victorious. After scoring first early in the first period, it was a tight game. Then halfway through the second period, Boston got a lucky bounce and just like that, it was tied. Within the final five minutes of the third period Boston scored again and it felt like my heart fell out of my chest and landed under my boot. I'd never admit this to Taylor, but I thought it was over. I really did. With two minutes remaining the Saints pulled their goalie, got an extra forward on the ice, and managed to tie the game. Taylor had passed the puck to his winger who slipped it through five-hole.
Taylor and his teammates jumped against the boards.
The crowd through their hands in the air.
Sofia screamed while James whistled.
And I nearly collapsed.
Now, it's overtime.
I keep my eyes focused on Taylor as he circles centre ice, getting ready to take the opening face off. As if he can sense me looking, he glances upwards. There are hundreds, maybe even thousands, of people in the stands separating us, not to mention the boards, but I know we're having a moment. He nods, hunching over slightly, leaning on his stick over his knees, and I nod back. The part of me that has never grown up wants to give him a thumbs up, but I'm twenty-seven now, and much more sophisticated than the girl who first fell in love with this boy all those years ago.
