The horn sounds. The Acers win 3-2 in a very exciting game.
He skates first toward the crease, tapping gloves with the goalie, pulling him into the usual post-win swarm. Then, as hepeels away toward the tunnel, he lifts his stick once, not a wave, not a show. Just a small acknowledgment meant for me.
Then we see each other.
Just a beat of eye contact that causes butterflies to explode in my stomach.
Then the announcer’s voice booms over the speakers, calling out the three stars of the game.
When Colby’s name echoes through the arena, the place erupts all over again.
He turns back, skates out onto the ice for the lap, helmet off now, cheeks flushed, the grin he’s been holding back finally breaking loose.
Everyone around me is on their feet… Paige, Nancy, Annabelle, Mia… cheering like this is the most obvious thing in the world.
And when Colby circles the ice, he looks up again.
Finds us.
Finds me.
He lifts his stick in a small salute this time, unmistakable.
I cheer harder without even pretending I’m not, and the way his smile deepens tells me he sees that too.
***
After the game, he finds me near the tunnel.
“Hey,” he says, voice lower now. “Thanks for coming.”
“You’re welcome,” I say. “Great game.”
He adds, “To get the full experience, come to the team dinner tomorrow night. You're invited.”
He glances at Paige and Nancy then, polite and easy. “You're invited too. It’s usually loud and a little unhinged.”
Paige’s eyebrows shoot up. Nancy grins.
“I,” I hesitate. Then: “Yeah. Okay.”
Paige laughs under her breath. “Thanks, maybe next time,” she says quickly. "We have another commitment."
Nancy nods. “Yes we do.” She gives me a quick, unmistakable wink indicating message received;we know better than to tag along for this.
Paige turns back to Colby. “Seriously, thanks again for the tickets,” she says. “And congrats on the win. That was fun to watch.”
Nancy echoes it with a grin. “Great game.”
Then they’re gone, already halfway down the corridor, glancing back just once to give me an exaggerated thumbs-up before disappearing into the crowd.
He nods, like that was the answer he hoped for but didn’t expect.
He walks me out through the corridors, close but careful. Our shoulders almost brush.
“What’d you think?” he asks.
“It’s… intense,” I say professionally.
