In Sequence | H.S.

30.

Harry. 

"Go, go, go!" I hear a stressed out Madelyn yelling before I can see her, followed by the sound of two sets of footsteps running through our entrance tunnel.

"I'm going!" Carlson's voice has a weird falsetto to it as he responds, flying around the corner. He looks like a fucking moron with his helmet in one hand, soft pretzel in the other while he runs towards the team in full gear, skate guards included.

"Hurry!" Maddy is hot in Carlson's tracks, her Bruins colored converses giving her an advantage with running, but she's slowed by the tray of nachos and churro she's balancing.

"I'm here, I'm here!" Carlson holds up his pretzel like it's the Stanley Cup, gasping for air when he stops an inch away from slamming into Miles.

"We're about to hit the ice and you went for a snack run?" Miles looks eerily like his dad when he's scolding Carlson, but the only thing that sets him apart is the grin on his face.

Carlson shrugs, almost inhaling a bite of his pretzel in the midst of gasping for air. "Carbs and cardio, baby!" He shouts like he put too much pre-workout in his protein shake, but Carlson doesn't drink pre-workout, he's just naturally this hyped before every fucking game.

"You let him rope you into this?" Miles shakes his head at Mads as she comes to a halt, pushing herself in between me and Carlson.

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. Nobody can really be sure." She flashes a warm grin that's filled to the brim with guilt, and I can't help but smile down at her. She's usually a little uptight before every game, too busy worrying about everyone's healing injuries to have fun, so it's a nice change to see.

"Take my order next time, little red." Ian reaches for a chip in her tray, but Carlson intercepts with a sidestep, and Mads dodges any accidental nudges by stepping back, closing most of the space between us.

"Keep your filthy hands off of my nachos." His disgusted glare damn well could've melted the ice with how harsh it was.

"Come on, guys, get ready!" Miles tries to put an end to the chaos as most of the guys get lined up for our entrance on the ice.

"One chip won't fucking kill anyone!" Ian throws a hand over Carlson's shoulder, trying to snag a chip for the second time.

"Maddy, run!" Carlson gives a hard shove to Ian, fighting him off as Mads draws back another big step, easing her back right into me.

"Sorry, sorry!" I don't think she even registers it's me at first, because when she glances up, her apologetic features melt away. "Actually, no, I'm not." The words come from a place of hurt, I can see it in her eyes. The brightness that usually gleams up at me is dimmed by an ache in her heart – I've made her feel shitty more than enough times to easily recognize it.

The smirk that spreads across my lips is filled with mischievous as I bring a gloved hand against her torso to hold her in place. "You're not?" I pry, watching the color drain from her face when she realizes how many wandering eyes could catch us right now.

"Nope." She whispers, biting back the desire to scold me or pull away. That's progress, even if it's killing her inside.

"Yeah, me neither. Especially not for this," I let my warm breath tease her ear as I lower my head down past her neck. A rosy blush creeps up her neck and to her cheeks as my pursuit creeps lower and lower, stopping just as my lips come in line with her collarbone. With a sly movement, I dip my lips down to wrap about the top of the churro in her hand and take a decent bite.