My phone buzzes.
Sarah
The Ice Queen posted about Drew blowing you a kiss. The comment section is FERAL.
I groan, which prompts Elliot to lean over and read the text.
“Want to know what she said?” he asks, pulling up the blog on his phone.
“Absolutely not.” I read it anyway.
The second periodkicks off with Boston College coming out swinging, not ready to go down without a fight. Their forwards throw their weight around as though they’re in a WWE match, and I find myself gripping the armrests every time someone gets near Drew.
“Okay, what’s happening now?” Ryan asks as players crash into each other near center ice.
“That’s called forechecking,” I explain. “Basically, Boston College is trying to put pressure on our guys to win back possession of the puck.”
The play continues, and Drew receives a pass, skating backward while controlling the puck.
“Why is he skating backward?” Elliot asks.
“He’s searching for an open teammate while keeping the puck away from—fuck!” I jump up as a Boston College player slams Drew into the glass right in front of us. The impact rattles the entire section. “That’s boarding! Where’s the fucking call, ref?”
The referee skates by without even glancing at the play, and I cup my hands around my mouth. “Are you blind?! That’s a penalty, you fucking imbecile!”
Drew pushes himself off the glass, shaking his head, and rejoins the play as if nothing happened.
“You’re passionate about this,” Ryan observes.
“That should have been a penalty,” I insist, sitting back down. “When you hit someone from behind into the boards like that, it’s dangerous.”
“Gerard’s doing something,” Elliot announces, and we all turn to watch number 7 execute what can only be described as a pirouette while carrying the puck.
“That’s called a spin-o-rama,” I explain. “It’s a pretty advanced move.”
“That’s it, baby! Shake that massive ass!” Elliot suddenly screams at the top of his lungs.
The entire section turns to stare. Gerard, mid-spin, clearly hears his boyfriend, because his skates go in opposite directions. What follows is a spectacular wipeout that has him sliding across the ice on his aforementioned massive ass like a starfish on a slip-n-slide.
The arena goes silent for a heartbeat before erupting in laughter. Gerard, still on his ass, raises one arm in a triumphant fist pump, which only makes people laugh harder.
“Oh my God,” Elliot says, covering his face with his hands. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
“That was incredible,” Ryan says, giggling. “His reaction when he heard you!”
Even the players are trying not to laugh as Gerard gets back on his skates, dramatically dusting off his ass while staring directly at our section. He blows Elliot a kiss before skating away.
“I’m never yelling anything again,” Elliot mutters.
“Maybe save the ass compliments for after the game.”
The play resumes with a face-off in our defensive zone. Oliver lines up for it, and I notice Ryan leans forward slightly. His cheeks have gone pink, and he’s staring at Oliver with an expression I recognize all too well.
Elliot notices too. “Ryan, are you…”
“I hope Oliver wins the check-off,” Ryan interrupts, his voice an octave higher than usual.
“Face-off,” I correct.
