Chapter 50: Kiss Cam

The Western State Ice Arena was a pressure cooker by eleven o’clock on Saturday morning.

The air inside smelled like cold ozone, stale popcorn, and pure hostility. Red and navy rivalry banners hung from the high steel rafters, and thousands of Western State students were already packing the student section, banging on the plexiglass boards and booing every time a Briar logo flashed on the concourse screens.

I walked through the team entrance corridor behind Coach Brennan and the players, pulling my heavy coat tighter around my shoulders.

Knox was walking three steps ahead of me.

He was in full pre-game lockdown mode. He wore his Briar Athletics zip pullover, dark fitted joggers, and black sneakers, his large noise-canceling headphones resting over his ears.

He’d barely spoken five words to me since we left the hotel this morning; his jaw was still tight from last night.

As the team reached the locker room doors, Knox stopped, unzipped his side bag, and pulled out a plastic VIP credential lanyard.

He turned around and handed it to me.

"Glass-side pass," Knox said in a flat voice. "Stay near the team bench."

"Thanks," I murmured, taking the lanyard.

He gave a single, curt nod, turned on his heel, and pushed through the locker room doors without looking back.

I stood in the corridor for a second, watching the doors swing shut. The lingering chill from his cold response last night when he told me to make sure my real boyfriend waited his turn was still hanging between us.

By twelve-thirty, the noise inside the arena was deafening.

I sat behind the Briar team bench, just a few feet from the thick plexiglass separating the crowd from the ice. Below me, the players were finishing their warm-ups, pucks slamming against the boards like gunshots.

Deciding I needed a hot drink before puck drop, I stood up and walked through the crowded concourse toward the concession stands.

The concourse was a sea of jerseys. I was waiting near the coffee kiosk when I heard a familiar voice behind me.

"Well, well. Look who made the travel roster."

I turned around slowly, holding my cardboard coffee cup.

Standing a few feet away was Vanessa Orwell. She looked impeccably styled in a cream wool coat, dark leather boots, and a Briar varsity scarf draped casually around her neck. Her two usual followers stood right behind her, sipping iced lattes.

"Hello, Vanessa," I said evenly, keeping my face completely neutral.

Vanessa stepped closer, taking a slow sip of her drink as her eyes scanned me from head to toe. A sweet, condescending smile touched her lips.

"I have to admit, Nora, you’re persistent," Vanessa said softly, her tone dripping with false friendliness. "Getting yourself added to the official athletic road trip? Impressive move for a work-study student."

"I’m here as an assigned academic tutor," I replied coolly.

Vanessa let out a soft, mocking laugh. "Right. The tutor. Tell me, do you actually believe the story Knox is selling people?"

I raised a brow, holding her stare. "What story?"

Vanessa stepped an inch closer, her smile fading into something cold and sharp as she lowered her voice to a whisper.

"Don’t get confused by the spotlight, Nora," Vanessa hissed softly. "Knox is using you. He needs a clean record so Pierce doesn’t bench him before scouts arrive next month. You’re a temporary academic shield. A Sheridan doesn’t stay with a girl who sweeps diner floors for a living."

My chest tightened slightly, but I didn’t take a single step backward.

"He’s keeping you around to pass his exams," Vanessa continued smoothly. "Once his grades are locked for the semester, he’ll drop you back to obscurity, and he’ll be right back where he belongs. With people who actually fit his world."

I took a slow breath, looking Vanessa dead in the eye with an unbothered, ice-cold stare.

"If you’re done marking your territory, Orwell," I said flatly, "my coffee is getting cold."

Vanessa’s condescending smile faltered for a fraction of a second, her jaw tightening under her polished makeup.

"Enjoy the game, Nora," Vanessa sneered, turning on her high heel and strutting away into the crowd with her entourage.

—

The game started fast and brutal from the moment the ref dropped the opening puck.

Western State played aggressively, slamming into the boards while their fans roared. But Briar held their ground, trading goals back and forth through a chaotic first and second period.

By the third period, the game had turned into a complete bloodbath.

The score was tied 2-2. The crowd was screaming at the top of their lungs, and every hit against the glass shook the metal frames under my seat.

Knox played like a man possessed. He hit harder and skated faster, forcing the defense to scramble. Even as he passed the Briar bench, he kept his head down and focused entirely on the game.

With under sixty seconds remaining on the clock, Western State turned the puck over at center ice.

Knox intercepted the loose puck, pushed off hard, and bolted on a breakaway.

The entire arena held its breath.

Knox crossed the blue line, faked a wrist shot to force the goalie to drop into a butterfly, and smoothly dragged the puck to his backhand, sliding it straight into the top corner of the net.

BUZZZZ!

The horn sounded. The Briar bench exploded over the boards in wild celebration.

Briar won, 3-2.

The Briar crowd section was screaming hysterically. Knox skated through his celebrating teammates, high-fiving Jake and Bear as they slapped his helmet in victory.

But he didn’t head for center ice after that.

Instead, he turned his skates and glided straight across the ice, stopping inches from the glass right in front of where I was standing.

He unclipped his helmet strap and unceremoniously tossed it onto the bench cushion.

He reached out, tapping his gloved hand against the glass right in front of my face, a breathless smirk on his lips.

"Told you we’d win, Bennett," Knox called out over the crowd noise.

I let out a breath, a faint smile tugging at my lips despite myself. "You almost gave Coach Brennan a heart attack."

Before I could say another word, a deafening siren suddenly blared over the arena speakers.

DING-DING-DING!

The massive, four-sided HD Jumbotron hanging above center ice flashed into a bright, neon-pink border. Giant, flashing graphic letters filled the screens: KISS CAM

The camera feed cut instantly from the ice to the Jumbotron, locking a high-definition frame directly onto Knox standing at the glass and me standing right behind it.

The entire arena of ten thousand fans saw it. A massive, roaring cheer went up from the crowd, quickly turning into a rhythmic, deafening chant that echoed off the steel roof:

"KISS! KISS! KISS! KISS!"

My heart slammed against my ribs. My face flushed hot as I stared up at the giant screen, then back down at Knox.

Knox didn’t look up at the Jumbotron. His eyes remained locked on mine.

Without a single second of hesitation, Knox reached out, unlatched the glass bench door, and stepped off the ice onto the black rubber matting right in front of me.

His massive, broad-shouldered frame towered over me.

"We have to kiss, Bennett," Knox said in a low, firm voice, completely calm despite the deafening crowd chanting around us. "In front of everyone."

I looked up at him, my pulse hammering in my throat, my hands clenching into fists at my sides.

"You manipulated this whole thing, didn’t you?" I accused softly, my breath hitching as I glared up into his dark eyes.

Knox raised a lazy eyebrow, a slow, insufferable smirk spreading across his lips. "I score goals, Bennett. The cameras just follow greatness."

"Fuck you, Sheridan," I snapped, my cheeks burning.

Knox’s smirk deepened. He stepped an inch closer until his chest was practically brushing mine.

He reached out, his large gloved hand sliding around my waist, pulling me firmly against him in front of ten thousand screaming fans and national sports cameras.

His head leaned down, his raspy voice dropping into a low whisper right against my lips. "We can do that later. But right now... kiss me."

Knox closed the distance.