They Bet I Still Wanted Him, Then His Team Owner Kissed Me

The last file on my desk was the player contracts for the Harbor City Blades.

Forty-two pages of guaranteed salaries, trade clauses, and a goalie's no-movement provision that would cost somebody a lot of money if I missed a comma. It was almost nine at night, and Northstar Capital's twenty-third floor had gone quiet except for the hum of the air vents and the cleaning cart two offices down.

I was initialing page thirty-one when my phone lit up.

**Riverside U Championship Anniversary Week 🏒🏆**

I'd muted that group chat the day someone added me three weeks ago. Apparently, muting didn't stop videos from autoplaying when you swiped a notification away with a tired thumb.

The screen filled with a concrete hallway I hadn't seen in five years.

And there I was.

Twenty-two, ponytail coming loose, lanyard still around my neck. I was hugging a navy away jersey against my chest like it was something precious. Number 17. His backup.

I remembered that jersey. I remembered what I'd been thinking that night, standing outside the locker room.

*He'll tell them now. We won. He promised he'd tell them after we won.*

On the video, the locker room door was cracked open. The guys were shouting, spraying something, somebody pounding on a locker. Then a voice rose over the noise.

"Come on, Mason, what's the deal with you and Tessa?"

Laughter. Whistles.

And then Mason's voice, easy and warm and amused, the voice he used when he knew everyone was listening.

"I only dated her because I felt sorry for her."

The twenty-two-year-old girl on my screen didn't move. The camera stayed on her face long enough for everyone in the group chat to watch it happen.

I set my pen down.

Five years, and my hand still wanted to shake.

---

That night, I'd been running on no sleep for three days.

I booked the hotel block after the original one fell through. I tracked down two missing skate bags at the airport. I called the steakhouse four times to confirm the private room for the celebration dinner, and I'd paid the deposit on my own card because the athletic office wouldn't process it until Monday.

Coach called me the team's secret weapon. The guys called me Water Girl.

I'd told myself it was affectionate.

When Mason finally came out of the locker room, hair damp, grin enormous, I stepped forward with his jersey. I was going to hang it back in his locker for him, the way I always did.

He walked right past me.

Sabrina was waiting by the exit doors in a white Riverside hoodie that I was pretty sure had been mine. She was the athletic director's daughter, the one who showed up to games in the second period and left before the handshake line.

Mason slung an arm around her shoulders.

"Guys," he announced, turning so everyone could see. "This is who I'm taking to dinner."

Then he kissed her. Right there, in front of the whole team, three feet from me.

Somebody said, "Oh, damn." Somebody else laughed so hard he had to lean on the wall.

Sabrina pulled back first. She looked over Mason's shoulder, straight at me, and gave me a small, sympathetic smile.

"Oh, Tessa," she said. "Were you holding that for him? That's so sweet."

I could have thrown the jersey at him. I could have told the whole hallway about the nights he'd called me from his car because he didn't want to go home, or the paper I wrote for him junior year so he wouldn't lose his eligibility.

I didn't say a word.

I held the jersey tighter, turned around, and walked out of the arena.

I didn't know anyone was filming. I didn't know that for the rest of their lives, the guys from that hallway would be able to pull up a clip of me crossing the parking lot, eyes red, clutching Number 17 like an idiot.

Now Sabrina had uploaded it again.

Her caption sat under the video in bubbly lowercase.

**Sabrina:** think our water girl still cries over mason? 😭😭

---

The chat woke up like someone had kicked a hornet's nest.

**Derek:** LMAOOO the jersey hug

**Kyle:** bro I forgot about this

**Jenna:** Sabrina you're evil 💀

**Derek:** Real question is whether she shows up Saturday

**Kyle:** she won't. $500 says she won't

**Derek:** $500 says she shows up and she's still carrying equipment for somebody lol

**Jenna:** omg what does she even do now??

**Kyle:** probably team manager for a rec league somewhere

Somebody made a poll. Then somebody made it a real pot, linked to a payment app, with a spreadsheet pinned to the top of the chat. Two columns: **Tessa Shows** and **Tessa Doesn't.**

The second column filled up fast.

Then Sabrina posted again.

**Sabrina:** Boring. $10,000 says she doesn't come. And if she does, she's still somebody's assistant. 💅

The chat exploded. Fire emojis. Gifs of money raining down. Someone tagged Mason and wrote, **your ex is famous again, bro.**

Mason didn't reply in the group.

Thirty seconds later, a private message slid onto my screen.

**Mason:** Hey. Saw what Sabrina posted. She's just being Sabrina.

**Mason:** I know it's been a while and things ended kind of messy. If seeing everyone again is too much, no pressure. I can get the guys to drop it. Just say the word.

I read it twice.

Five years, and he still talked to me like I was a stray he was being generous to. Like he was offering me a favor, and all I had to do was admit I needed one.

*Just say the word.*

I thought about the girl in the parking lot. She would have typed *thank you.* She would have spent an hour wondering whether *no pressure* meant he still cared.

I didn't answer him.

I went back to the group chat, opened the spreadsheet, and put my name in the first column.

**Tessa Cole — Shows — $20,000.**

Then I typed one line in the chat.

**Tessa:** I'll be there.

For almost a full minute, nothing moved.

Then the typing bubbles started, stopped, and started again, three or four at once.

**Kyle:** wait is that actually her

**Derek:** 20K??? with what money lmao

**Jenna:** is this a fake account

Sabrina's bubble appeared and disappeared twice before she finally posted.

**Sabrina:** Wow. Can't wait to see you, babe. 😘

Mason's private message sat unanswered under the chat, the little *Read* marker glowing beneath it.

Good. Let him wonder.

---

I closed the app. My laptop chimed before I'd even put the phone down.

**From: Northstar Capital — Investment Committee**

**Subject: FINAL APPROVAL — Harbor City Blades Acquisition**

*The Committee has approved the acquisition of the Harbor City Blades in full. Tessa Cole will continue as Deal Lead, overseeing closing and all post-acquisition restructuring of team operations and personnel.*

Personnel.

I read that word longer than the rest of the email.

Riverside's championship roster had scattered after graduation, but not far. Half the alumni chat worked somewhere inside the Blades organization now. Scouting. Community relations. Front office. Mason had made the AHL affiliate and was fighting for a call-up.

They were celebrating a five-year-old victory on Saturday at the Blades' home arena, because the team had agreed to host.

The team I now owned the paperwork for.

My phone buzzed again. A text this time.

**Alexander:** Board approved it. See you at the anniversary, Ms. Cole.

Alexander ran Northstar. He also had a sense of humor that only showed up in text messages, usually at night, usually when he'd won something.

A second message followed.

**Alexander:** I'll send a car Saturday. VIP entrance, owner's suite. You shouldn't have to walk through the crowd.

I looked at the frozen thumbnail of the video, still sitting in my notifications. The girl with the jersey.

**Me:** No car. I'm going in through the alumni entrance with everyone else.

**Alexander:** You're sure? Once they know who you are, this gets a lot easier.

**Me:** That's the point. They don't know yet.

A pause. Then:

**Alexander:** Understood. Try not to enjoy it too much.

I almost smiled.

I pulled the Blades contracts back in front of me and initialed page thirty-one. Then thirty-two.

On Saturday, I'd walk through those doors as the Tessa they remembered. The water girl. The one who cried in a parking lot.

I wanted to see exactly how far they'd take the joke when they thought she'd come back.

And I wanted to see Mason's face when he found out who was signing his next contract.