Georg pulls on his pads and says, “Who’s the girl?”

“Well, if you ever actually listened to me when I talk, you might be able to figure it out,” I say as I pull my jersey over my head.

He ponders this for a moment. I can see that he’s trying to remember our conversations, trying to piece together anything I might have said about a woman.

“Jesus, Georg, don’t blow a fuse over it. You need to dry out and maybe your brain will retain information longer.”

“I resemble that remark,” he says, grinning.

I just roll my eyes. “You want to make All-Star, you probably need your liver functioning.”

“My liver functions fine. And more importantly, my legs and arms work well enough to cover your ass on the ice and keep you scoring. And my cock works fine, too, so I can celebrate inside a warm, wet pussy after each win. So, fuck drying out.”

I cringe. This is how every conversation about Georg’s drinking goes. I try to be funny about it, and then he tries to be funny back. Then I get a little more serious and he gets pissed. It’s never caused an issue with our friendship, but I’m guessing someday it might.

After we’re dressed, we huddle up. Our owner, Max, is here for this game and he gives us a pep talk, telling us all how great we’re playing and “how damn proud” he is of all of us. He also announces it’s time for players to vote on a co-captain for Chalamet. He pats Chalamet on the back as he talks about what an amazing player he’s been, about his leadership skills, and about how much the league will miss him. Max makes jokes about Chalamet being the youngest retiree in the nursing home and tells us all how much he wants to see him take home the cup in his last year of play.

We’re all asked to cast a vote before we head out. I vote for myself, and then grin, wondering what would happen if everyone did the same.

“What are you grinning about?” Fiona asks as she sidles up to me in the tunnel.

Max walks up beside her and says, “I was wondering the same thing.”

“Oh, nothing, just thinking. Hey, on another note, I did the exclusive with Kacey you asked for.”

Fiona looks perplexed. “I didn’t ask for an exclusive.”

“Oh, maybe she asked for it and you approved it?” I ask. “She said she spoke to you about an exclusive before I played the last home game. She wanted to talk about my injury, and if I was going to be able to play out the season.”

“I wasn’t aware you’d done that,” she says. “We are always present for official interviews.”

I think my jaw might break from clenching it so hard. “So, you’re telling me Kacey King did not, in fact, get approval from you for the interview? She lied?”

Fiona purses her lips and looks pointedly at Max. “Well, I’m sure it was just a miscommunication. We’ve got so many things going on lately, the request probably just slipped through the cracks. Did it go okay?”

“It was fine.” I decide not to mention I’m pretty sure the only reason for the interview was to get me alone.

“Well, no harm done, then,” she says quickly as if relieved to find an out from this conversation. “Feel free to call me, though, if you’re ever unsure of something. I’m here to support you.”

Yeah, I’ll bet. She’s just one more woman trying to crawl into my bed. To think, not so long ago I might have taken her up on it. Now, I’m just annoyed at the attention and innuendo.

We head out to start the game and as we warm up on the ice, I look around for Holly, realizing she wasn’t in the tunnel doing her usual social media work. She’s not anywhere in the lower stands. As I try to be inconspicuous with my searching, Georg sidles up next to me and says, “Dude, you see the women in the owner’s box tonight? There’s a blondie up there I would probably propose to just to get her underneath me in bed.”

I look at the box, which is situated between the lower and upper bowl of the arena. Sure enough, there are two women standing at the front. One is curvy, blonde, and laughing wildly at something the man on her left is saying. The other is staring at me. It’s Holly. She raises a hand and gives a subtle wave. She looks amazing in a black dress, her hair in a long braid that hangs around her shoulder. I wish I could get a closer look. I wish I could touch the exposed part of her skin. I wish I could kiss her. But I can’t, so I just nod to let her know I’ve seen her.

When the game starts, my head is totally in it. My team just voted for co-captain and I need to show them I can stay on task, even though I know Holly is up in the owner’s box with guys probably pawing all over her. Knowing this somehow makes me feel more aggressive and I use it to my advantage.

On the first period break, Georg says, “You know those women?”

“You know one of them,” I answer. “Holly, the social media manager for the team. She was in the black.”

“Oh? Well, I barely noticed her because of the blonde.”

“Maybe a friend of hers,” I answer with a shrug. “Don’t know.”

“Well, I need to meet her.”

“Stay in the game, please. Don’t think about women. Think about winning this game.”

“Aye-aye, captain,” he says with a salute.

We skate back out and though Georg gives a long look at the two women, he does seem very focused in the second period, helping me avoid a big collision on the glass, which allows me a chance to wiggle free and take the puck down and into the net for our first score of the game.

I look up and find Holly going wild, jumping up and down and high-fiving her friend. I find myself grinning like an idiot, knowing she’s watching. I actually see Max come down and stand with her. They chat for a minute and she pulls something up on her phone. He smiles and pats her on the back amiably. He must have just figured out she’s the one who’s been killing it on our social media feeds.

Georg is relentless in the second break. “Dude, I need to meet her. We can’t let her leave before I meet her.”

“Holy shit, dude,” I snap back, “there will literally be seventeen women waiting outside after the game. You can choose whichever one you want, if you need to get your dick wet.”

“It’s not only about sex, I really just want to meet her. You know the social media girl. Send them a note. Tell them we want to have dinner with them after the game. I’ll even put on a clean shirt.”

I roll my eyes. “Wow. Really pulling out the big guns with a clean shirt. Yeah, okay, two more goals and I’ll send word for them to join us for dinner. You got this?”

He hoots and grabs my helmet, putting our heads together. “Hat trick, coming up, boss!”

We head back out, the game tied one-one, and score just a minute into the period. I see Holly up in the box, taking photos or video with her phone. I’m sure hoping a video of the goal will be on social media. It was a beauty.

The rest of the game is fast and furious, with no more goals despite both teams taking shots-on-goal like nobody’s business. About three minutes to the buzzer, we go on a power play. Chalamet gets the puck, fakes a shot on goal which sends the LA defensemen scrambling while I grab and go, skating like my life depends on it, taking a shot that looks like it will sail above the rim. It doesn’t though, it drops in over the head of the goalie, and there we have it—another hat trick.

Coach pulls the line and sends in Mikhail and another rookie to play the last two minutes. They play well together, Mikhail a lot more controlled than usual as he scores his first goal in the NHL.

I grab an usher who stands nearby and ask her to write a note to Holly Laurent in the owner’s box, asking her and her friend to hang around the west entrance after the game so Georg and I can take them to dinner. She grins and agrees, tells me good game, and heads off.

Six wins into the pre-season and the Crush are looking good to hold the top spot in the league as the real season begins. We are a loud, obnoxious bunch of animals in the locker room after the game. Max comes down and huddles us all together. He gives another speech about how proud he is of all of us, of how exciting our team has been to watch this season.

“Keep it up,” he says loudly. “And without further ado, I wanted to announce your co-captain for this year, and team captain for next year, is...Evan Kazmeirowicz. Evan is our leading scorer this season, and he is leading us to the cup. Congratulations, Evan!”

Everyone hoots and hollers, slapping me on the back. Georg grins ear-to-ear and says, “Congratulations, asshole. Did you get us a date?”

“One track mind, much?” I ask, smiling broadly. “I sent word to them. Let me check my phone.”

The other guys head off to the showers and there are several texts awaiting me. I start with my agent.

There are two texts from Kacey, which I delete without reading. I move on to the text from Holly.

I grin and head to the shower. Twenty minutes later, I’m in a crisp, button-down shirt, dark jeans, and a jacket. Georg, as promised, has put on a shirt that appears clean and somewhat free of wrinkles. He’s got on jeans and dress shoes, and he’s even pulled his hair back into a man-bun.

We head out to the west entrance and find Pam and Holly waiting. Holly smiles broadly when she sees me, her cheeks turning an adorable shade of pink. I walk right up to her and lean in, planting a kiss on her cheek before reaching down and taking her hand in mine. She doesn’t pull away.

“Georg,” I say, “This is Holly’s friend, Pam.”

“Pamela Jenson”—she reaches out to shake his hand— “but you can call me Pam.”

He, of course, takes it and plants a kiss on it. She pulls away, smirking at him.

“So, you’re the famous Georg Kolochev,” Pam says. “Womanizer. Lover of alcohol. Player of hockey.”

“Whoa.” He puts his hand on his chest, and a mock look of hurt on his face.

“Your reputation precedes you, dude,” I say. “Looks like you’ve got some work to do.”

“I can handle myself.”

Pam takes Georg’s arm and says, “Let’s see how you do tonight.”

They walk off ahead of us, chatting easily.

“She seems comfortable with herself,” I observe. “Not falling for his shit, anyway.”

“She’ll be fine,” Holly says confidently. “She’s made of iron.”

“And you?” I can’t resist the question because I need to know where I stand with her.

“Just the usual matter.” She seems a little distant, but almost like she’s fighting it too.

I can’t help but wonder what it means, but I don’t get to ask, as we are quickly at Pam’s car, a convertible Mustang. I can appreciate this car. Holly and I climb into the back seat as Georg asks Pam to pick the dinner location. She checks and app on her phone first, making us a reservation at a place in Malibu, along the water.

Luckily, traffic isn’t too bad. At my request, Pam turns on a classic rock station and cranks the volume as You Shook Me All Night Long by AC/DC plays. We all head-bang and sing loudly, letting loose, a good energy between us.

Dinner is amazing. We eat on a veranda seemingly hundreds of feet above the ocean. It’s a really gorgeous scene. So gorgeous, I take out my phone and snap a picture of Holly as she looks out over the balcony. Again, her back is to me, only her profile visible, the picture a little hazy in the evening light.

I post it to my Instagram with no explanation and no hashtag before wandering up to stand beside her. Pam and Georg are still at the table. He’s teaching her Russian cuss words. They’ve been flirty and loud all night.

“You doing okay?” I lean down close enough to kiss her, but I won’t. “We really haven’t had time to talk since we went skating.”

“I’m okay,” she says, looking up at me. She reaches out and touches the collar of my shirt, then moves her hand to my chest. “You look really handsome tonight, Evan.”

“Thanks. You’re stunning tonight, Holly.”

She smiles sweetly, the weight of her palm still on my chest. I don’t want her to move it away. I love the feel of her touching me. But finally, she says what’s on her mind. “I had a fiancé in college. He cheated on me. I’m a little gun-shy.”

“And I have a reputation. I get it.” I pick up her hand and bring it to my lips and kiss it.

We stand there, looking out at the ocean, for a long time until Georg and Pam announce we are going dancing. I pay our bill, we load back up and head to a nearby club.

The place is hopping as we make our way in. We grab drinks at the bar, but as soon as they are drained, Pam takes Georg’s hand and drags him out on the dance floor. I hold out my hand and Holly shyly accepts it. We make our way out into the throng of people. The bass is heavy, the music some mix of pop and electronic. It’s not the kind of music I’d listen to on my own, but it has a great beat.

We start to move and it’s hard not to be close. I end up behind Holly, my hands on her hips as we move together. There’s a moment when it feels like no one else is around. She lays her head back on my chest, her eyes closed, her arms reaching up and around my neck. As we move, it’s so sensual that I can’t help but get aroused. I move one of my hands downward, letting it touch the bare skin of her thigh. She moans a little and turns to face me, so I put one hand at her lower back and the other between us, pushing her dress up discreetly, my finger brushing over the soft silk of what can only be spectacular underwear if it’s over her beautiful body.

It’s just a soft touch, nothing crazy, but she gasps, maybe a little surprised to find her panties wet already. She wants me as badly as I want her.

I move my hand and adjust her skirt, putting both hands on her ass, pulling her body against mine as we continue to sway to the beat. I want her to feel how hard my cock is right now. She looks up at me, her eyes wide and shining, her mouth parted. Waiting for me.

“God, those lips,” I growl before putting my mouth on hers.

We kiss, our tongues intertwined, until she pulls away abruptly, her cheeks flushed bright pink even in the dark. “I—I—I need a drink of water,” she stammers.

I nod, and we hold hands as we head to the bar. I order us both another drink as well as her water. We find a little booth being vacated and grab it. We sip our drinks and catch our breath. I peer out at the crowd and find Georg and Pam smiling and laughing, having a grand old time together.

I turn to look at Holly and when we lock gazes, it’s electric. I lean in and brush my lips against hers, only to have her climb onto my lap, straddling me, her kisses furious and hot on my lips, my neck. I return the attention as she rubs herself against me. I wish we didn’t have this barrier of clothing between us. I wish we weren’t in a public place. I want her naked and moaning my name as I make her come. Repeatedly.

But public places are just that, and I can only dream about the time when I can really have her alone. We alternate between the dance floor and this semi-private booth all night, until last call, when Georg and I grab a taxi back to the team’s hotel, and Holly slides in next to Pam in the Mustang. Her lips are swollen from my kisses and I fucking love it.

I don’t know what she’s done to me, but I can’t get enough.