I suck my teeth and shake my head, my eyes following Drew as he walks down the bench, the entire front row of spectators banging on the glass beside him trying to get his attention.Man, this really is a boy aquarium.
I clear my throat of the annoyance—and slight jealousy—that's building in my chest from their relentless pursuit of him while he sits trying to prepare for his game. "That doesn't count," I eventually rebuke. "Cooper's young and adorable."
Alex laughs. "Yeah." She looks at me and smiles slyly as I stare at Drew. "That's exactly what I'm afraid ofhere."
Before I can argue that she makes me sound like a total creep, the lights dim slightly, and the announcer’s voice booms through the arena as the players skate to their respective blue lines for the anthem. The crowd around us rises as I press my lips into a firm line and hold the camera up in front of my face, finally getting to the reason why I'm here in the first place.
Behind the lens, my focus drifts back to Drew standing at the end of the line. His stick is in one hand while his other arm hangs loosely by his side, his head bowed. The music starts playing, leading in the singer standing by the announcers' box, and for the first time since the sauna—where he froze while buried deep inside me—he’s completely still.
Throughout all of warm ups he seemed to pace, occasionally diving into a stretch or spinning his stick as he caught a puck on the blade. He still gave the crowd his usual show of pouring water down his hair or spraying ice at the glass as he came to a stop. But his energy was shifted slightly. Even if I'm the only one who would have noticed.
Attempting to focus the lens with my mind on his well-being, I slowly lower my pointer on the shutter button. Just as it clicks, Drew raises his head and brings his eyes right to me as I snap the first shot of the day.
I lower my camera to meet his gaze, but that quickly, it's back on the ice. Instead, I scan the image that's momentarily up on the preview. It’s Drew—a little blurry and slightly off-center—but it’s him.
And maybe that’s the perfect start to the game.
As the clock winds down to the end of the first period, I look at Alex who has been straining to keep quiet this whole time. Admittedly, Drew has been playing… not his best. He's fumbled a few passes, missed the net on the only shot he's taken, and turned the puck over more than a couple times. Nothing outlandish—the Flames are still up by one—but definitely not his norm.And maybe that's the problem.
I follow him as he lines up for the last minute of play, his body language slouched in defeat, and Alex peers over at me, her eyebrows high but her lips sealed shut.
"Don't," I say bluntly, my heart-rate kicking up.
"B..." she presses.
"Al..."
She stares through me until I look at her. "Did you break him?"
"No!" I shout, quickly glancing around to make sure I didn't draw any attention. "No," I repeat quieter, but more definitively. Alex holds my gaze as everything about Drew's situation and his feelings toward it—as well as our last conversation—runs through my mind.
His dad, his attitude, his PR manager.
"I'll tell you what, I'll give you more if you give me more."
"I want to see you beyouout there today."
"I promise I'll make it worth your while."
"I don't think so," I whisper under my breath.
Alex smacks me with the back of her hand. "Brooke!"
"No, that's not what I—here." I toss my camera in her lap and jump from my seat. "I'll be right back."
I hit the stairs, rushing toward the main concourse. Thankfully, during my meeting with Sadie from Spark the Flame, she gave me the inside scoop on how to get back to the facilities quickly from the stands in case I needed any last minute pieces of equipment.Thank God for that woman's attention to detail.Luckily for me, the directions still apply even if what I need is worth a little more than a tripod.
As I bound down the first turn toward the offices, the buzzer sounds throughout the arena signaling the end of the first period of play. Frazzled, I spin around, gathering my bearings, knowing that somehow this hallway leads me to three places—the exit, the rest of thefacilities, and the tunnel I need to be at in just a few seconds. Holding my breath and making my best guess, I stride down the longest hall, knowing if I'm wrong, I won't make it in time.
My heart pumps as I move as quickly as possible, the full weight of skipping a half dozen classes atBeats & Barbellshitting me quite literally in the center of my chest. The thumping of skates on rubber bounce off the walls of the corridor as I finally make it to the far side of the tunnel, my ear pressed against the only barrier between me and the team like I'm some sort of spy. Voices begin floating under the threshold, mostly grumbling, until I finally gain some insight on where Drew could be in the mix of the boys. Thanking God for Brett Burns's ridiculously loud voice, and his insistence on calling him Cap, I crack the door open. I watch as he pats Drew on the shoulder and hustles by him, leaving him last in the lineup like I knew he would be.
With my heart hammering inside my rib cage, and my hands borderline trembling, I push the door open further just in time to grab Drew by the sleeve of his jersey and yank him inside.
"What the fuck?" he snaps, stumbling through the doorway.
I quietly click it shut before turning around, and—
Holy hell. This was a terrible idea.
