Chapter 28: Just a Pass

"You’ve got to be kidding me," Priya breathed, her eyes wide as she stared at the heavy mass of deep purple and silver fabric draped over my mattress.

"It’s just a pass," I said, smoothing down my jeans as I stood in front of the full-length mirror. "He said I had to wear it to get into Section 102."

"Nora, that is not a pass," Priya said, walking into my bedroom and lifting the hem of Knox’s official home jersey between two fingers like it was made of solid gold.

"That is Knox Sheridan’s actual varsity home jersey. The silver number nineteen. The custom stitched shoulder crests. You do realize every single hockey fan on this campus knows what this means, right?"

"It means I’m fulfilling a contract requirement so he doesn’t report me to Coach Brennan," I insisted, though my heart gave a nervous thud as I pulled the heavy mesh over my head.

"Riiiiight," Priya scoffed, watching me struggle to pull my arms through sleeves that could easily fit two of me. "Because Knox Sheridan hands out his personal game sweater to all his tutors. Is that part of the athletic department handbook?"

"Garrison Sheridan is going to be in the VIP box tonight, Pri," I said, my voice slightly muffled as my head finally popped through the collar. "And AD Pierce is watching both of us. Knox said if I don’t look completely committed, the whole fake-dating thing falls apart."

The jersey drowned me completely.

The sleeves fell way past my wrists, requiring two thick folds just so my hands could peek out, and the silver-bordered nineteen covered my entire chest, the hem falling past my hips like a short dress. It carried a faint, undeniable scent of clean cedar, cold air, and subtle leather.

Priya leaned against the doorframe, a wicked, triumphant smirk spreading across her face. "Contract requirements or not, you look like you got swallowed whole by a six-foot-three defenseman. And you smell like him too."

"I don’t smell like him," I snapped, though I caught myself taking a quiet, subtle breath through my nose before I could stop it.

"You literally just sniffed your collar, Bennett," Priya laughed, shaking her head. "And let’s not forget the part where he carried you to his bed on Tuesday."

"I’m leaving before you say another word," I muttered, grabbing my canvas bag.

—

By seven o’clock, the Briar Ice Arena was a deafening, sold-out madhouse.

The arena was freezing and electric, filled with the scent of hot dogs, spilled soda, and ice resurfacing exhaust.

Above the rink, a massive video scoreboard glowed in purple and silver. The Briar student section was already chanting at the top of their lungs, banging their thundersticks against the metal bleachers.

As Priya and I walked down the main concourse toward Section 102, I felt the shift immediately.

Heads turned and whispers rippled through the crowd as students in Briar sweatshirts nudged one another, their eyes locking onto the oversized silver nineteen that completely drowned my frame.

"Is that Sheridan’s jersey?" a girl in a varsity jacket whispered aloud as we passed.

"Bro, that’s the tutor girl from the video," a guy near the concession stand muttered, leaning over to his friend. "She’s actually wearing his home sweater."

I kept my chin up and stared straight ahead, pretending I didn’t hear a single word, though my cheeks burned under the harsh arena lights.

We scanned our tickets at the usher railing and descended the concrete stairs of Section 102. Second row. The seats were practically on top of the glass, directly behind the home bench.

"Look up," Priya nudged my elbow softly, leaning in close.

I glanced up toward the glass-enclosed VIP luxury boxes suspended above the lower bowl.

Sitting in the center box, wearing a tailored charcoal suit and a silver tie, was Garrison Sheridan. Knox’s father sat with his hands resting on his knees; his expression was cold as he stared down at the ice, completely unbothered by the chaos around him.

My breath caught in my throat. The contract was working.

Just then, the arena lights dimmed, and a deep, thundering siren echoed through the speakers.

The student section exploded into wild roars as the Briar hockey team burst onto the ice for warm-ups, their skates cutting sharp, white lines into the fresh surface.

Leading the pack was Knox.

He looked massive and intimidating, clad in full purple-and-silver armor. With his dark visor and a relaxed yet lethal posture, he circled the Briar half of the rink.

On the opposite end of the ice, the Kingston University team was skating out in their navy jackets, and right near the red line, looking pale and rigid under his helmet, was Chase.

The backward-cap guy from the diner looked completely rattled every time his eyes flicked toward the Briar bench.

Knox took a long, powerful stride around the net, weaving past his teammates. As he rounded the corner near Section 102, his dark visor turned toward the stands.

His eyes locked straight onto me.

He didn’t slow down, but as he glided past the second row, he raised his heavy hockey stick and tapped the butt end against the glass right in front of my face... a slow, distinct, possessive double-tap.

A collective gasp went up from the rows around us.

"Oh my god," Priya squeaked, grabbing my arm. "He just claimed you in front of three thousand people."

My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.

With five minutes left until puck drop, the arena lights came back up, and the team skated back into the tunnel for final coach instructions.

Priya went up to the concourse to grab hot chocolates, leaving me sitting in the second row, clutching my tote bag in my lap.

"Excuse me, sorry," a polite voice called out from the aisle. "Just squeezing through."

I shifted my knees to let the late arrival pass.

"Nora?"

I froze, looking up.

Standing in the aisle right beside my seat was Drew. He wore a dark green sweater and jeans, his hair slightly damp from the chilly evening air, holding a cardboard tray with two coffees. A warm, easy smile broke across his face as he recognized me.

"Drew?" I blinked in utter disbelief. "What are you doing here?"