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Sofie
I hate crowds.
There's something about the press of bodies that affects me on a visceral, physical level. My senses sharpen, and I can taste every dirty drop of sweat, every unwashed armpit, every person who didn't wash their hands.
The worst part is the eyes.
I can feel every eye on me— watching, waiting, judging. I can feel them tracing my curves, dragging across my body like it's a piece of property for sale. I developed young. It was like waking up one morning trapped inside the body of a woman. Suddenly, all anyone could see was an ass and boobs.
How dare my body betray me like that?
There's no law against looking, but dios, there should be. There really should be.
Then again, if there was, I'd be out of a job.
Even though the Arena is packed, the crowd isn't too bad where I'm sitting. It's another Snowhawks home game, but the laminated square around my neck entitles me to special seats, set apart from even the regular press section. Being team photographer has its perks.
The only people seated with me are my best friend Dakota— assistant manager for the Houston Snowhawks— and Payton Lawson. Payton is the team's social media manager. She's also the team captain's little sister.
"Let's go, Mita! Move," Dakota shouts at the passing blur of a blue and white jersey.
Dakota is wearing Kai Mita's jersey. He's our big bad defenseman, the guy who loves to take a crowd apart one body at a time. He's also Dakota's boyfriend. The last time Dakota dragged me out in public, Kai saved us both from a very nasty crowd.
I'm not watching Kai, though. It's my job to take pictures of the whole team, but I've got my eye on one player in particular.
Parker Knight.
It's hard to keep him in focus, too. Parker is fast on the ice, the fastest player I've ever seen. Ever since Emerson Stone got injured, Parker has been working hard to ensure everyone knows he wasn't just given a spot. He's earned it.
I'm definitely not the only one watching him. The crowd reacts with a sudden intake of breath as Parker lines up another shot.
Blocked. The crowd hisses and boos, but only my camera catches his face. The look of dejection is palpable, like a dog that just got scolded. I know the crowd is booing the other guy, but Parker is taking it to heart.
My heart aches for him.
It's not the only piece of my anatomy that does.
Parker is scorching hot. Every guy on the team is built, muscular, and solid. Impossibly tall. Emerson was the only exception, and now he's injured, coaching until he recovers. Parker is more than big, though. I've photographed him without a shirt enough times to know. Six feet of pure, honed muscle, Parker could model for a medical textbook.
I'd rather he model for me.
His eyes are hazel— the color of sunlight peeking through the fog on a spring morning. His sandy brown hair is cropped close, and the dark shadow of stubble clings to the sharp lines of his jaw. But it's Parker's smile that captures my heart and my camera lens.
Two Flyers suddenly break away from everyone else, passing rapidly back and forth as they bear down on our goal. There's a hush, a sudden silence as thousands of people all hold their breath.
The puck sails through the air and towards our goalie.
Erik Nordstrom, aka the Viking. He's the biggest guy, not just on the team but in the whole league. He looks more like he belongs on a battlefield with a battleaxe than on the ice with a stick. He's amazing — but even he can't guess right every time.
The arena buzzer sounds off, marking a goal for the other team.
"Come on, Erik!" Payon cries from beside me.
Payton resembles her big brother Sawyer, the Snowhawks' team captain. Blonde hair that borders on platinum and clear blue eyes, they could almost be twins in looks. Their personalities couldn't be any more different, though. Sawyer is a boy scout, and Payton is a wild child.
She's also, technically, my new co-worker. Now that we're taking social media seriously, Payton and I have been spending a lot of time together sifting through photos. If she's noticed that Parker eats up more real estate than any other player, she hasn't mentioned it.
