Taking my seat and settling in, I feel Cora’s eyes on me. “What?”
“That was really nice. You totally made his night, Atlas.”
Shrugging off her compliment, I say, “Nah. Any person with half a soul wouldn’t have kept it. Besides, I have pucks of my own at home.”
“Why would you have pucks?” She looks confused. “Do you collect them or something?”
Laughing, I explain, “Nah. I used to play when I was younger. Saved a bunch from games over the years we went to and still have some from when I played.”
Cora’s mouth hangs open. “You played hockey? You?”
“I’m going to pretend I’m not offended by your reaction, but yes, I did play hockey. From the time I was seventeen to twenty or so.” I think about it. “I got more into drawing and really enjoyed it. I knew I wasn’t going pro, so I was okay with it. I still occasionally skate with the guys, though,” I explain, sipping on my soda.
“The guys all skate and play?” she asks, surprised.
“Yep. Seth is fast as shit, and Rhett has an amazing shot, but Kash doesn’t like it as much. Too cold for him.” I laugh, remembering all the times Emma made him sit his ass in the bleachers of whatever arena we were playing in while he complained he was going to die of hypothermia.
“Huh. Interesting. I just can’t picture it.”
“Well, picture or not, it’s true.”
Cora jumps when a puck hits the glass. We’re close to the goalie, so it will happen a lot tonight.
“You good?” I laugh.
Scowling, she looks over at me. “Yeah. I just didn’t expect that.”
Chuckling, I focus back on the glass and realize one of the players is standing close by. His eyes shift from Cora to me. She doesn’t notice, but it instantly pisses me off.
I shift closer toward her and lean my mouth near her ear. “So, who are we rooting for?” I ask in a low tone.
She turns her head toward me, and if I moved an inch or two in, I could easily kiss her. The thought comes out of nowhere, but it’s not an unwelcome one. She has a full, pouty bottom lip, andher eyes are so fucking blue, they could easily pass for a shade of ice.
It’s cold in the arena, so she’s still wearing a blue knit cap, but has taken off her coat and is wearing a black pullover. She looks perfect.
When she clears her throat then looks away, it takes a moment for me to place the feeling I get. It’s regret. I don’t usually regret things, but I’m starting to regret the way I’ve behaved since I met her.
Unfamiliar with longing and desire, I’ve alternated between being grumpy and somewhat nice. I’m such an asshole, it’s no wonder she pulls away from me. I need to fix this.
“We’re here to cheer on the Timbers, I guess.” She looks toward the glass, where I notice the player is no longer standing. Good.
My eyes track his movement on the ice, and I see he’s on the team she wants to root for. Great. Rolling my eyes, I settle in.
The first two periods of the game have been pretty intense. Both teams are sitting at two goals apiece, and there’s only about four minutes left in the game. Cora and I have had fun talking trash and cheering. I don’t think I’ve ever smiled so much in my life. I forgot what it was like to be near the ice. Maybe I can talk the guys into playing some hockey again. There’s probably still a dented dryer in Emma’s basement that we used for practice.
The clock is quickly winding down, and everyone is on their feet. The Timbers have the puck, and two of their players are hauling ass down the ice, back toward the net for the other team.
“All they need is one more! You guys got this!” She’s banging onthe glass, screaming, and I fucking love it. Throughout the game, we ate snacks, took turns heckling the refs for bad calls, and talked with people around us. The guy to my side told me I was lucky to have such a hockey enthused girlfriend. I didn’t bother correcting him, but the way she eyed me told me she heard him too.
She’s got so much passion in her voice. It makes me think of all the other ways I can make her yell.
We watch as the center slides the puck toward his right wing. He doesn’t miss a beat, snatches it, and glides it smoothly across the ice. Right as the final seconds cross the clock, he rips his stick back and shoots the puck. The goalie puts up his blocker, but it’s too late. The puck sails to the top left corner of the net, and it’s all over.
Cora is on her feet, screaming and cheering with everyone else in the arena. I couldn’t care less about either team, so I just clap.
“That was such an amazing game!” Cora beams. Her smile stops my heart. She really is something. It’s cold as shit in the rink, but all I feel is warmth spreading through my body.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “It was a good game. Exciting,” I add lamely.Can I kiss her yet?
