Page 22 of Chivalry is Not Dead

He’s completely suited up in rental hockey gear, wearing it as proudly as he wears his armor. Dane and the rest of the players are wearing varying degrees of padding and helmets, all haphazardly thrown together based on what was available to rent at the rink.

Leah is on the bench, but she’s spent the entire scrimmage moving around the arena filming different angles. Sanders still doesn’t know that we are going to turn this into his opportunity to be on TV, and I can’t wait to see his face once he realizes.

I know nothing about hockey so I’m content to watch, unsurprisingly turned on by how often Sanders looks for me in the stands. He doesn’t go more than a few minutes without seeking me out, giving me a big wave or lifting his helmet and throwing a wink.

Once he blew a kiss so enthusiastically, he fell flat on his ass. Unperturbed, he pushed himself up and jumped right back into the game.

When our rental time runs out, Dane and his friends are all panting, but Sanders looks like he could skate for three more hours and be perfectly content. I make my way down to the ice and admire him as he glides toward me.

“Looks like you’ve really gotten the hang of it,” I comment.

He pulls his helmet off, grinning. “I would not go that far.” His sweat soaked hair is plastered haphazardly across his forehead, darker than his typical blond locks.

Once he’s right in front of me, I have to look up, up, up because of the height difference the skates add. “You had fun?” I ask, forcing myself to avert my eyes from his lips.

Sanders reaches out, running a finger down my neck. Tracing my blush, I realize. “I had the best time,” he replies. “Thank you, Penelope. If I could stay, I would ice skate every day.”

Sadness hits. His and mine.

“We can come back again before the solstice,” I promise.

His smile is timid. “Thank you, again. I do not think I could ever thank you enough for everything you have done for me.” He leans down, planting a quick kiss on my lips, pulling away entirely too soon.

“Go change clothes,” I say, pushing against his chest to create a physical distance between us. “Then maybe we can go out to eat tonight.”

“Dumplings?” he asks.

“Whatever you want,” I reply.

His eyes darken. “Do not make promises you cannot keep, Penelope.” And then he skates away.

“That was hot,” Leah says from behind me.

“Gods, what the fuck, Leah! You scared the shit out of me!”

She shrugs, unphased. “I’ll have everything edited for you in a few days if that works.”

“That’s perfect. I appreciate you doing this for me.”

Leah throws her arm around my shoulder. “All I ask in return is that I get dibs if another medieval knight returns from the dead and shows up in Auraria.” She studies me for a moment. “Are you going to be okay when it’s time for him to leave?”

“Oh, I’ll be fine,” I lie.

“Liar.”

I sigh. “I don’t have another choice, do I?”

Leah stares onto the ice, watching as everyone picks up equipment, goofing around and welcoming Sanders in like he’s always been a part of the group. “I’m not sure… You’re the witch. I just submit to the whims of the moon.” There’s a tinge of melancholy in her voice.

“You’re more than that, Lee Lee,” I reply, reverting to my childhood nickname for her. “You’re a good friend, a filmmaker, the world’s best Halloween party host. Hell, I wouldn’t be in this situation if it wasn’t for you.”

“Thanks, Pen,” she replies, resting her head on my shoulder. “We’re going to be okay, yeah?”

“Yeah. We’re going to be okay,” I repeat. Not entirely convincing her or myself.

We both ignore our hesitancy, choosing to focus on the positive instead: all of the hot hockey butts currently skating around on the ice.

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