Now.
Sloane leans close, hiding her mouth behind her hand as she shouts over the roar of the arena to me, “I think he’s trying to get your attention.”
As game time gets closer, the crowd is slowly filtering in. A man a few rows behind us shouts, “Fuckin’ A,” when AC/DC blasts over the speaker system and Jack does some trick on the ice. “Murph’s amped tonight!”
I wish I could find it all funny. I think I’d rather just be home in bed tonight instead.
“This was a bad idea,” I mumble.
“He’s just having fun.” Annie grins around a mouthful of pretzel. “But I think he’s pissed you gave that puck away.”
I shrug. I meant it when I said I didn’t want to go on a date with him. I don’t know why he thinks flicking a hockey puck to me is going to get me to change my mind.
Warm-ups finish quickly after, the anthem is sung, and the rest of the arena becomes so electric the excitement buzzes through my bones as the teams take the ice.
Okay, fine. I’ve never been to a hockey game before, but I think I like it. Maybe. A little.
My eyes volley between players as they race and weave around one another, then to the crowd cheering and holding up signs as if we’re at a rock concert. I preferred the mental gymnastics of Model UN in high school to jumping over hurdles or chucking a softball or whatever people do in sports.
Annie leans over me to talk to Sloane. “Is he still on the bench? I don’t see him.”
“Who?” I ask.
“Sloane’s ex is here tonight. Jason Winthrope.”
“The fucking prick.” Ethan shifts in his seat, his hands clenching. “He’s coming out on the next line change.”
Sloane pats his face playfully, smiling. “I’m here with you. I promise I’m fine.”
I narrow my eyes at the Monarchs’ bench. When I met Sloane this past summer, I knew for a fact she wasn’t fine. Jason knocked up his ex-girlfriend, and Sloane found out at their rehearsal dinner. Her car broke down here in Merritt Point, and she crashed on Ethan’s couch for the summer, in between helping out at the restaurant and then at theMerritt Point Herald.
It didn’t take them long to rekindle the secret romance they started in high school twelve years ago.
“Jack asked us to come tonight. I thought it would be fun to go out. Benice,” she stresses.
Ethan only grins before he tosses back a sip of beer.
For the first period, I’m an excellent student. I always was a pleasure to have in class according to my teachers. Ethan and Sloane explain all the positions and rules, and I nod along politely as Annie heckles the refs. I try my best to pay attention, but my focus is always pulled to Jack and the way he controls the puck, the way he commands the ice. He’s so damn fast on his skates.
I must say that last part out loud because Sloane smiles as if she’s remembering something, which only earns a low chuckle from Ethan. “The little shit was always a faster skater than I was.”
“You were good,” Sloane volleys back.
“I know it.”
“Ugh,” Annie groans, “can you guys stop?—”
It happens so quickly. Jack swoops for the puck, races down the ice, weaving and dodging the defensemen trying to block his way, before he effortlessly flicks it past the Monarchs’ goalie into the net. I startle as an air horn blasts through the arena. The deep rumble vibrates against my chest, my heart racing, and a stubborn smile bites at my lips.
Annie yanks me to my feet, and we cheer, our beers dangerously close to spilling out. My stomach does another uncomfortable flop as Jack and his teammates celebrate, and I swear he peeks in our direction.
Atme.
There’s no way he can make me out in this crowd. I’m sure of it. Still, I sink into my seat and gulp my beer, happy to fade away.
“Anyway,” Annie continues a little while later, “I don’tknow what I’ll do after I graduate. But, like, why do I have to figure it out?”
“You don’t,” I tell her.
