“Enjoy the game tonight,” she says.
“I will.”
I walk down the steps to the arena entrance and pull open the door to the cavernous basement, surrounded by concrete walls and flooring, with not a window in sight. I wind my way around the familiar confines, my camera bag bouncing against my hip.
I love hockey, and during the Real Miami offseason, I attend quite a few games. I love the challenge of taking hockey pictures, even if they’re just for myself.
But tonight, I have another reason to be at the Manatees game.
I’m here to see Aiden.
I suck in an excited breath as his image comes to mind. We talked forhourson the phone last night about anything and everything, which is something I never do. If I didn’t have to get up and go to work today, I would have talked to him for hours more, and I know he felt the same way.
I like him.
I know I have no business liking Aiden, that nothing will ever come of it, and I’m putting myself in a position to be hurt by getting more involved with him. Yes, it’s a friendship, but friendships can hurt if feelings get involved.
And I’m afraid the feelings are already happening.
I stand up a little bit straighter, grabbing on to my resolve. I need to concentrate on the friend feelings and keep romantic thoughts of him out of my head. Tonight, I’ll make sure to take extra pictures of Beckham Bailey, a new member of the team who was acquired in a surprise trade with Denver. I don’t have photos of him yet since I haven’t been to a game in a few weeks, and that will give me something to focus on.
Besides Aiden, that is.
I turn another corner and cold air hits me, making me shiver in my sweater. I’m getting closer to ice level. Then I make a face as I think about what I’m wearing.
I’m so full of crap.
Normally when I’m going to a game, I wear a Miami Manatees jersey, jeans, and my black Converse shoes. I pull my hair back into a ponytail.
But when I was getting ready tonight, I reached for my black cashmere sweater layered over a white T-shirt, mid-rise distressed jeans, and black booties. I slipped on a gold chain-link necklace and simple gold hoop earrings. My hair is down, and I’ve gone all out on my makeup, finishing with a bold red lip.
I wanted to look more than casual.
I wanted to look good for Aiden.
I turn the corner, and the rink is now in front of me. Music is pumping through the arena, and anticipation rises in me. I turn to the bank of elevators, and I’m greeted by Joe, the elevator attendant. We say our hellos and then I get off at the concourse level, heading toward the end of the arena where Miami will warm up.
The concourse is buzzing with fans already. I see some wearing Aiden’s jersey, which gives me a thrill. People are lining up and grabbing food and drinks; others are in the team pro shop, looking at all the T-shirts and jerseys for sale. I make my way to the section I like best for photos and walk down the steps, greeted by more frosty air.
Soon I’m rinkside, against the glass, surrounded by other fans who have arrived early to watch the team warm up. Some are holding signs, asking to exchange something for a puck; others simply say how much they love a certain player. I reach into my clear bag and retrieve my Nikon camera, putting the strap around my neck and taking a moment to adjust my lens. I take a few shots of the ice, and then the PA announcer comes over the sound system.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he booms. “Welcome to Premier Airlines Arena for tonight’s matchup of the Arizona Jaguars versus your MIAMI MANATEES!”
The crowd cheers as loud music plays. I watch the tunnel, and soon the familiar black-and-pink uniforms of the Manatees are visible. They hit the ice, and I keep my eyes peeled for Aiden.
I know the entire team, so one by one I watch them skate onto the ice. I see Wyatt, then Beckham Bailey, and finally, the one Manatee I’ve been looking for.
Aiden.
I ignore how butterflies appear in my stomach the second I see him. Aiden is so hot in his hockey uniform, and his six-four frame looks imposing in it. He skates around the back of thenet, and I notice his eyes are roaming over the crowd standing behind the plexiglass.
My breath catches in my throat. Is Aiden looking for me?
He skates closer, and I keep my camera lowered. Then he spots me, his gray eyes meeting mine, his mouthguard dangling sexily from the corner of his sensual, full lips.
His mouth curves up into a brilliant smile as he skates right next to me.
I feel as if all my nerves have come to life at the same time. My heart leaps inside my chest, and when he playfully flicks his glove against the glass right in front of my face, I am completely giddy inside.
