One fateful night brings Maddy and Quinn together, a night full of promises and regrets. Will these two find out the true meaning of love? Or will their paths separate, never to see each other again.
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Maddy's Pov:
We made it to the bar around 6:35, and thankfully, we had a great view of the TV from our seats.
"Hey, how's it going with Dakota?" Eve asks, breaking the silence.
"Um, okay, I guess. I don't know, he seems so uninterested. I wouldn't even consider us talking."
"That's so strange. Why is he acting so weird?"
"I honestly don't care. I'm not looking for a relationship anyway, so whatever it is between us doesn't matter."
"And, I want to be treated right. I want to know what it's like to be loved. Until I see a guy putting in that much effort, I'm not even going to consider a relationship." Eve nods in understanding, putting her hand over mine.
"I get that Maddy. Don't worry, I'm sure you'll find your soulmate soon enough." I laugh a little. Yeah, right. Suddenly, a familiar voice interrupts our conversation.
"Quinn, how do you plan to approach tonight's game?" the interviewer asks. My eyes find his, except he's looking at the camera, not me.
"Well, it's all about seizing the moment and making every opportunity count. Timing is everything."
"Do you have any strategies planned?"
"Um, yeah, just kind of what we always do, you know? For myself, I know I'll be playing a bit more offense, trying to get a puck in. Got a lot riding on that," he says with a chuckle. My jaw drops. No one knows what he meant, except me. Oh, and Eve, but that was uncalled for. He looks right at the camera as if to make sure I heard, so I know he'll be trying. A couple more questions and they finally let him go. He puts his helmet on and skates back onto the ice. Eve nudges me slightly, a smile on her face.
"He was talking about you."
"I know Eve. So what?" She grips my arm, and I wince. That's going to leave a mark.
"Why aren't you freaking out?!"
"Eve, you're making it bigger than it is. We're friends. It's just a bet."
She looks at me, unamused. He'd do that for anyone, and it's not like he outright called my name. Most people aren't even going to pick up that it has a meaning behind it.
I order us margaritas and nachos as we wait for the game to start.
...
The first period just ended, and our boys have been playing really well, scoring two goals and taking the lead. Quinn has mostly been on defense. He hasn't had the chance to shoot. I hope this little deal doesn't throw him off his game because so far he's been defending and stopping the other team from scoring. He's damn good at it too. Eve and I are a bit tipsy at this point and having a great time.
Time flies, and it's now the third period. The score is 3-2, Canucks still in the lead. The whole bar cheers as Miller takes the puck and goes to shoot, but at the last second, it gets intercepted by the opponents. I feel a twinge of disappointment at Quinn's lack of effort on offense, but I quickly push that away. It's selfish of me to even think that. I take a sip of my drink, my foot tapping impatiently as the seconds go by. I lean forward as Quinn goes behind the net to get the puck, number 49 hot on his trail. My eyes widen as I watch Quinn get slammed hard in the face with 49's stick. It all happens so fast, I barely process it.
