Indeed, the guys had come out onto the ice to warm up, meeting the excited shouts of those lined up along the glass. And there was Colton, talking to some probably middle school girls and their moms, pointing to me.
“Oh no,” I muttered. I pointed to my chest and mouthed “me?”
Colton nodded and waved me down. I shook my head. He tipped his head to the side and looked annoyed. Then he rubbed his gloved hands over his biceps, the universal “cold” sign. I did indeed have my arms crossed over my chest to keep warm, but I just shrugged.
He waved harder and now everyone on that end of the icewas watching. It wasn’t going to get any better if I stayed where I was.
I descended the stairs to the glass, trying not to trip along the way. I thanked the girls who parted for me to fit through. “What?”
“You forget a jacket?”
“Yeah, but I’m fine.”
Colton’s brow lowered, and he looked outraged. “You’ll catch a cold.”
“That’s been scientifically disproven. And you sound like my grandma.”
“Vi, please just go buy a jacket. Tell them to charge it to me.”
“I’m not doing that. Go warm up! Your coach is staring daggers at you,” I said.
“And I’m going to singlehandedly lose this game if you’re cold.” He drew himself up taller, looking smug.
The girls and their moms on either side of me giggled and I shook my head.
His eyes brightened. “Actually, wait here.”
Colton took off for the bench, leaping over the gate and running down the tunnel.
“How long have you two been together?” one of the moms asked.
How was I supposed to answer that? “We’ve been friends since college.”
She smiled. “Well, he seems like a sweetheart.”
“He’s a good guy,” I said. “A great friend.”
One of the other moms bobbed her head slowly like she called bullshit. “I bet.”
“Is he single then?” one of the middle schoolers asked.
Her mom chided her, but I just laughed. “I’m not really sure.”
And there was the man in question, running back down the tunnel, stick in one hand and some piece of clothing in the other. With the biggest shit-eating grin, he skated back my way, spraying ice against the glass. He wiped it clear in front of his face with the back of his glove.
“Here,” he said, holding up what I now saw was a zip-up sweatshirt. “Catch.”
“I said I’m fine!”
“I don’t care. Come down here so I can throw it over without the net.”
I groaned, and the girls next to me made room for me to scoot to my left and meet him outside the protective netting. He tossed it over and I had to jump to reach where the sleeve caught on top of the glass.
“Colt, this is so embarrassing,” I hissed through my teeth.
He propped his chin on the butt of his hockey stick. “Maybe you should have thought about that before you came to my game underdressed.”
I narrowed my eyes and growled.
