Face Off (D.C. Stars, #1)

by Chelsea Curto

“We all do dumb shit when we’re young and in love. Play stupid games, you win stupid prizes. Mine happened to be an asshole who liked to make me feel small while he was the one with the tiny dick.” I choke on a laugh. “How tiny are we talking?” Emerson holds up her fingers barely four inches apart. “That tiny.” “I need to send you a fruit basket and offer my condolences.” “I’m allergic to strawberries.”

“You don’t have a girl’s handwriting inked on your body?” Her eyes bounce down my tattooed arm then back up. “I’m shocked.” “I don’t. Can I use yours?” I ask. “I’ll put pretty boy right over my heart.” “You never stop, do you?”

“Put your tongue back in your mouth,” Hudson says, and he smacks my shoulder. “And stop staring at her ass.” “My tongue is exactly where it belongs, fuck you very much.”

Bane of my Existence Is that sarcasm? Sure sounds like it. Red? Cool. I’ll just go fuck myself then!!!

I eat frozen mozzarella sticks and pretend like I don’t know why “Funkytown” is playing eight times in a row.”

I guess she senses me watching her, because she glances up. Our gazes meet again, and I stare at her. It hits me then. Right near center ice and in front of twenty thousand people. A thought I’ve been having more and more lately these last few weeks, but becomes solidified right now: this woman is fucking incredible. Special. Changing the future of the sport and inspiring girls and women everywhere, all while wearing ribbons and mascara.

“No shit,” Maverick draws out, and I snort. “Was that a laugh, Red?” “No. It was a chortle.” “The fuck is a chortle? Is that a Pokémon?”

I’ve always considered myself a feminist, but there’s something so goddamn sexy about a man in a backwards hat that has me ready to drop to my knees for the patriarchy.

“What’s a girl have to do to get a plate of food instead of getting eye-fucked around here?”

“Why the hell do you have a peach on your ass?”

Some days you’re frustrated as hell, and some days you want to throw in the towel. But as long as it still makes your heart beat, you have to keep showing up. You don’t give up on the things you love just because they get hard.”

The boys were happy to hear you’re okay too.” “They were worried about me?” I ask. “Yeah. Well, to be fair, they thought you were hacked up into a million pieces by a serial killer while getting shoved onto the Metro tracks, so to hear it was food poisoning was a huge relief,” Maverick says.

I blow out a breath, spin, and immediately want to throw my heel at his face. Goddamn him all the way to hell. I’ve seen him in suits and ties walking into games, but this is different.

“Are you all right, Hartwell?” Maverick asks, and he tips his head to the side. “You look a little flushed.” I think I’m going into cardiac arrest.

“You’ve turned into a liability since you stole my favorite pair of underwear, Miller. You should know I’m not wearing any tonight.” His mouth goes slack, and I grin all the way to my seat.

“I need to steal my winger for a second. There’s an urgent matter involving stick lengths, and her opinion is very important.” “Oh.” The reporter—Stewart, his name tag tells me—widens his eyes. “That sounds important.” I nod, really wanting to sell this. “It’s gravely important. Thank you so much for being so understanding, Stewart.

“Is that a yes to… to being whatever comes after fuck buddies?” “I think they usually call that boyfriend and girlfriend. Dating. Acting like idiots because we can’t keep our hands off each other.” “Yes.” I bob my head. “Yes to all of that.”

It seems so insignificant, because what I feel for her is bigger than the sky. The whole fucking planet. You could go all the way to outer space and there still wouldn’t be enough ways to show her how much I adore her.

“I—there’s…” I scratch my ear and run my hand through my hair. “She—” I shake my head and look at Dallas. “How the fuck do you do this every day?” “Do what, exactly? Talk in broken sentences and make no sense? I sure hope I don’t do that every day.”

“If you fall, I fall, baby. I’m so far gone for you, Emmy, and it’s okay to be scared. I’m scared shitless too, but there’s no one I’d rather be scared with.”