Mel clears her throat, and I realize I’ve drifted into my own head again.
“Huh? Sorry, I zoned out.” I guess I should probably pay more attention to my phone call.
“I said,” She practically yells, “get dressed in warm clothes, we’re going to a Vortex game.”
Oh great… A hockey game... Just what I need, freeze my tits off while watching grown men beat the shit out of each other.
“Thanks, babe, but no thanks. I’m staying in tonight.” My hair is a mess, my mood’s worse, and social interaction sounds like pure torture.
“Oh, I love how you think you have a choice. That’s adorable. I wasn’t asking.” I can hear her smirk through the phone. “We’re going out to the game. I got tickets on the board, and we are going. Doors open at five. So get your depressed ass up and get dressed. The Vortex is blue. So wear blue. Maybe you will find your future baby daddy on that ice!”
I groan as loudly as I can through the phone. “Fine! What time do I need to pick you up?” I am going to have a driver so we can drink. If I go to a hockey game, I am going to get a few beers to calm my nerves.
“Have the car here at four. I want drinks before warm-ups.I’m so excited!”
Of course she is.
We pull up to the arena and get in line. Mel is buzzing with energy, like she just snorted espresso, and I am the dark cloud that is about to rain on her parade. I am still not in a good mood. I don’t want to be here, but she’s my best friend and will do anything for her.
Once we scan our tickets, Mel pulls me to the spirit store through the crowd.
“You aren’t wearing enough blue! We have to fix that.” She pulls a hoodie off the rack and holds it up to me, tilting her head from side to side to see if it would look good on me.
“Hm, this will work.” She throws my hoodie over her arm, grabs herself a beanie, and heads to the register. She throws the hoodie at me as soon as we step out of the spirit store.
“Put this on. You look like you wandered in from a fashion magazine instead of going to a hockey game.”
“I don’t look that out of place,” I mutter. I didn't think I looked that bad. I am wearing black jeans, blue heels, a cute white top, and a black leather jacket… totally reasonable.
“What’s wrong with my outfit?” I question Mel, who is in jeans, tennis shoes, a Vortex shirt, and a zip-up hoodie.
“Oh, nothing, Ms. Prim and Proper. God forbid you ever leave the house looking anything less than perfect.” I roll my eyes. She steals half of my clothes anyway, so she has no room to talk.
“Okay, okay. Fine, fuck face. Let's get a beer and find our seats. If I’m being dragged out of my cave, I at least want to watch the sexy men stretch.” A huge smile widens on Mel’s face.
“There’s my girl! Let’s go!” She yells, pulling me towards the beer stand.
We navigate down the stairs to our seats with a beer in each hand. My feet are killing me, and I instantly regret my decision to wear heels, but here we are. I pull off my leather jacket and put on the hoodie Melgot me. It was a black hoodie with white, light blue, and hints of navy blue vortex in the center, withChicagoabove the logo andIce Vortexwritten on the bottom. It is super soft and has long sleeves to hide my hands. It's a weird quirk that I have. It used to make my mom mad, and she always complained about me stretching out my sweatshirts. This might just become my new favorite hoodie.
We hear commotion from the crowd, and when we turn to the right, we see the goalie come out in full pads, looking even bigger than I assume he already is. He has white and blue leg pads and a helmet with his Vortex Jersey on. The back says "Monroe" and "22" in big, light blue numbers.
The rest of the team pours out behind him. As Monroe goes to the goal, the rest start to skate around, shooting pucks into the net as they pass by. The goalie is blocking shots left and right. He is so fast that I barely have time to notice the puck coming towards him, and he is blocking it already. He is good!
“Mel! Do you see that goalie? He is good!”
“Yeah, Monroe’s one of the best in the NHL right now.”
Two guys skate to the side of the ice and start stretching. They have their stick on the ground and get on their hands and knees, pushing their knees out and back. Basically soft porn on ice, and I can’t take my eyes off them. I have never been to a hockey game, but I am starting to see the appeal.
They finish warm-ups and head back into the locker room as the Zamboni smooths out the ice for the game. We are playing the LA Guardians today. I don’t remember their team, and Mel keeps giving me shit about it. Her family is a huge hockey family. They have had season tickets her whole life, and she knows the players' stats and where they transferred from. It wouldn’t surprise me if she knew what they ate for dinner last night.
The players return to the ice and take their positions as the officials bring the puck to the center ice for the puck drop. As soon as the puck hits the ice, Vortex wins it. Number 33, Monroe…just like the goalie, passes the puck back to number 11, Moretti. He flies up the left side, weaving through orange jerseys with a stupid amount of agility.
Moretti passes the puck to number 23, Cross, who circles the net and passes it back to Monroe, who takes a quick shot.
The puck hits the back of the net, and the stadium explodes in cheers as the horn blares. The lights dim, and loud music plays.
In the next face-off, LA takes possession and rushes our goal. I see number 22 crouch down, and he follows the puck. Number 44, Kline, checks the Guardian player with the puck into the board in front of us. The boards shake. Neither of them flinch, recovering quickly and chasing after the puck.
