It’s a scoreless game so far, but not for lack of trying. With two lesser, or colder, netminders, we’d have a high scoring game. But both these guys are on hot streaks. It makes for some great hockey and some even greater goals.
The puck comes into the middle to Jameson who’s challenged by someone whose name I can’t see. The puck is played up off the line to center, Owen plays it ahead into our offensive zone, and I shift forward in my seat, too.
The whistle blows, one of the Snow Pirates is called for goalie interference, and Scott looks as though he’s ready to rip the opposition’s head from his shoulders. I missed the hit on Ares, but he’s slow to get back up.
The blood in my veins picks up speed and heat as it surges through my body. You don’t fuck with the goalie. Never mind Scott,Iwant to rip the Snow Pirate’s head off his shoulders.
We’re still scoreless as we enter into the second period. I spent most of the period break in the bathroom waiting to pee—while Eloise grabbed drinks for the four of us, Eloise, Tori, Karlya and me—and messaging Tate at home, but he doesn’t reply which doesn’t soothe the unease in my gut about leaving him by himself to watch the game.
Eloise’s quiet tonight, not her usual peppy self. I think that hit Ares took during the first period left her worried about her boyfriend.
Every game I go to is just another reminder of how dangerous and physical this sport is.
Huh. I’m starting to sound like my mother. We’ll need to put a stop to that pretty quickly.
Right before the players return to the ice for the second period, the people at the end of our row stand up to let someone in. Of all the free seats in this place, they have to come sit with us?
A quick glance at the intruder to my space confirms it’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. My boyfriend, who has spent the last few weeks in sweats, shorts, his underwear and ratty old t-shirts, has had a shower, donned a suit, and is now sitting next to me in the stands.
He leans over, drops a kiss on my cheek, and squeezes my thigh. “Hey.”
I don’t answer him with words, but I feel the high arch of my brow tells him all he needs to know.
“I know, I know. I’m sorry. It was dickish to not reply to you. I didn’t mean to be a dick. I know you were just trying to help.”
I wave my hand for him to keep going, like he’s missed a few things, and he needs to ramble on until he gets there.
“I got unnecessarily cranky when you asked me to come back into the rink. I’m sorry, Pitstop.”
When he kisses my cheek again, he lingers, his warm breath caressing my cheek. “Fuck sake. Would it kill you to wear the home team’s shirt?” The exasperation in his voice makes me laugh.
“Yes. It would. It absolutely would kill me to wear a UCR shirt.” An exaggerated shiver rolls through me at the idea. “You look good.” I direct my words to him but keep my eyes on theice because if I look directly at his face I run the risk of being dragged out of my seat and fucked senseless in a cleaning supply closet somewhere around the rink.
We’ve fucked every day this week. It’s blissfully delicious, but my girl garden needs a little bit of a time out.
My dude has destroyed it with his wiener. It’s achy and sore, and I just need a little recovery time before I’ll be good to go all over again.
“Thanks. You’d look good too, Pitstop, if only you’d wear the right colors to our games.” He’s not going to let it go. He talks about this after every game, or at least messages me about it when he doesn’t see me in the crowd.
“You don’t like Snow Pirate’s blue on me?” I pull the shirt out from my chest. “I think it kinda brings out my eyes, no?”
His snarl is feral, and sexy as hell. “I think you’d suit UCR green more than that dish rag.”
My chuckle is genuine, but when the muscle in his cheek twitches, I keep laughing to stir the pot. “What brings you out of the doldrums downstairs, Satan? Decided you needed a break from the underworld?”
He rakes his hands through his hair. “For some reason, I thought sitting with my girlfriend in the stands would be a good idea. Can’t for the life of me remember why.”
I beam at him. “Because I’m a delight.”
“She is.” Tori chimes in from the other side of me.
“Agreed.” Eloise isn’t staying quiet either.
“They think I’m a delight.” I hook a thumb at my friends.
“Careful, Milkshake Man, she’ll smother you while you’re sleeping if you’re not careful.” Karlya raises her beer at Tate. “Good to see you again, Tate.” She winks at him like they’re old buddies.
I wasn’t sure how it would go, crossing my friendship streams, my cousin and my hockey-slash-girlfriend streams, butTori and Karlya have laughed so much I might feel a little jealousy if I hadn’t known her since we were in diapers.
