Chapter 155 In the Stands, Together
Chapter 155 In the Stands, Together
Anya's POV
I still feel a little sick about how close it came to going wrong.
Traffic, a dead phone battery, a security detail that briefly lost sight of me in a parking garage crowded with fans, nothing sinister, in the end, just bad timing stacked on top of bad timing, the kind of thing that would've been a funny story on any other night. Tonight it wasn't funny. Tonight it turned Levi's face white when I finally burst through the tunnel doors ten minutes into overtime, out of breath, phone dead, security detail apologizing behind me like it was somehow their fault the world conspired against punctuality.
I made it. Late, rattled, but in one piece, sliding into my seat just in time to watch Marcus's breakaway goal detonate the entire arena around me. My hands were still shaking from the sprint through the parking garage, from the ten minutes of not knowing whether Levi thought I'd abandoned him on the biggest night of his season, but the second that puck hit the back of the net, all of it dissolved into pure, uncomplicated noise.
Now, twenty minutes later, I'm still catching my breath from the aftermath, hugging strangers I've never met, screaming myself hoarse, watching Levi get mobbed at center ice by a pile of teammates who look like they're trying to crush him with affection instead of congratulations. Somewhere behind me, a group of freshman girls are recording everything on their phones, and for once the thought of ending up in someone's video doesn't make my stomach twist. It just feels like being part of something instead of separate from it.
And for the first time since this entire relationship became public, I'm not hiding at the edge of a crowd. I'm not hovering near the exit, phone angled down, hoping nobody photographs my face next to his name. I'm standing on my seat, screaming his name into a crowd of four thousand people like it's the easiest thing in the world.
"LEVI!"
He hears me. I don't know how, over that noise, but he does, his head turns, finds me instantly like some invisible thread runs directly between us, and the grin that breaks across his face is unlike anything I've seen from him all season. Not the practiced, camera-ready smile he gives reporters. Something rawer. Something entirely mine.
He skates to the glass, presses his glove against it, and I press my hand back from the stands, both of us laughing at the absurdity and the joy of it all at once.
"You made it," he mouths, and even through the glass and the noise, I can read the relief underneath the words, relief that has nothing to do with the score and everything to do with the last hour of both of us being terrified for entirely different reasons.
"I wouldn't have missed this," I call back, loud enough that the woman next to me laughs and gives me a knowing look, like she's just now clocked exactly who I am and finds the whole thing charming instead of scandalous.
That's new too. A month ago, that same look from a stranger would've sent ice through my veins, another person cataloging my face, filing me away as the girlfriend, another data point for tomorrow's headlines. Tonight it just feels like being seen, plainly, without the weight I've been carrying since the gala.
After the trophy ceremony, after the confetti cannons and the deafening celebration and Levi hoisting the championship plaque over his head while his teammates chant something incoherent and joyful around him, he finds me at the rail separating the stands from the ice, still in full gear, sweat-soaked and grinning like he's forgotten how to stop.
"Get down here," he says, holding up his arms.
"I am not climbing over a railing in front of the entire school district."
"You climbed through a locked gate to bring me soup once."
"That was different. Nobody had a camera then."
"There's about forty cameras right now, actually." His grin widens, daring me. "Might as well give them something real to photograph for once."
Something in me, some old, careful instinct that's spent weeks flinching from attention, finally, fully lets go. I climb over the low railing, ungracefully, laughing the entire way down, and he catches me before I even fully land, spinning me once before setting me down and kissing me square in front of the entire arena, cameras and phones already lifting around us in a wave I don't flinch from this time.
When we break apart, breathless, he presses his forehead to mine, ignoring the roar of approval rippling through the nearby stands. Somewhere behind him, I can hear Marcus whistling, and someone else calling out something teasing that gets lost in the noise, but none of it matters. It's just the two of us, his heartbeat still thundering from the game, his hands warm against my back like he's not ready to let go yet either.
"I love you," he says, simple and sure, like it's the easiest thing he's said all night, easier even than the game-winning shot. "I should've said it before now. I love you, Anya. All of it. The scared parts, the brave parts, tonight, every version of this that's happened since the gala."
My chest goes tight, tears springing up fast and unguarded. "I love you too," I whisper back. "I have for a while. I was just scared to say it out loud with everyone watching."
"Say it again," he murmurs, "louder this time. Let them hear it too."
I laugh through the tears and do exactly that, loud enough that the people nearest us cheer, phones angled to catch every second, and for once I don't care. Let them have this. Let this be the story they tell instead, not the scandal, not the headline, just two people finally choosing each other out loud, in public, on purpose. A month ago I would have flinched at the thought of strangers filming this moment, turning it into another headline to dissect. Tonight it just feels like proof, undeniable, witnessed, ours.
We're still tangled together at the rail, catching our breath from laughing, when my phone buzzes once against my hip. I almost ignore it. I almost let this moment stretch a little longer before the world finds a way back in.
But something in the pattern of the vibration, short, then long, then short again, makes my stomach tighten before I've even looked.
I pull it free, and my whole body goes cold reading the screen.
One new message from Unknown.
Beautiful moment. Almost a shame it won't last.
I don't even have time to show Levi before the arena lights flicker once, hard, and go completely black.