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*thumbs up*
My shoulders slump toward the screen as I read his lackluster response. I have no idea what Micah’s trying to accomplish, but based on the way Rhode rarely looked at my dress during the event, he doesn’t give a shit about my clothing, which is fine by me. I don't want to distract them before a game, so I shove my phone in my leggings pocket.
“Come on, Nina!” Gwen shouts. “Let’s go.”
We slide into her sleek Audi, and the engine purrs to life as we navigate the downtown streets toward the stadium. She drives while I scroll through sports articles on my phone, excitement heating my veins.
The buzz around the Guardians’ winning streak has been electric. Their game nights have turned into my own little ritual that’s slowly stitching Gwen’s and my relationship back together.
As we approach the hockey stadium, the energy rippling through the crowd is palpable, but I’m feeling calmer than a serene lake as we scan our tickets and navigate to our seats.
Relief washes over me when I notice we’re right on the aisle and a few steps from the bathroom. Gwen times it perfectly, so we sit down right as the Guardians skate onto the ice in their blue and white jerseys for the pregame warm-up.
The air is thick with the unmistakable scent of nacho cheese that’s sticky enough to glue two foam fingers together.
Gwen looks at the people a few seats over. “Why’s no one sitting around us, or behind us, for that matter?”
“Maybe they’re still coming since they’re just warming up? I don’t know. I hope no one shows, though. It’d be nice to have some extra space.”
I straighten when I remember what I said to Rhode, wondering if he had something to do with the seats. Warmth kindles in my chest.
Colorful lights blink in the stadium as music blasts, and Micah’s doing this goofy little dance that makes me laugh, but then, he says something to Rhode, and they start shouting in each other’s faces until Wyatt breaks them apart.
Gwen leans over. “Why are they yelling at each other?”
I peer through the glass wall. “I have no idea, but knowing Micah, he probably said something to piss off Rhode.”
My eyes instantly lock onto Rhode in all his gear, and I clench my legs together. I've caught glimpses of him on screen but seeing him live in action is completely different.
He's not just a professional athlete—he’s the embodiment of a guardian, dominating the rink. The way he glides effortlessly across the ice has my mind drifting to that moment in the kitchen.
As I watch him move, all I can think about is having him inside me, pinning me down as his hands grip my hips, but the only way that’s happening is in my dirty daydreams, so I fling away the thought.
Rhode’s focus shifts to me, and his gaze feels hot enough to melt the glass wall. His head tilts down to my jersey. I can’t see his expression through his mask, but he rips his head away and then never turns my way again. He seems to skate around the rink with a fury that wasn’t there before.
Meanwhile, Micah keeps tossing playfully platonic winks in my direction, but once he lines up for the opening face-off, he morphs into a stoic warrior. It’s honestly a little intimidating to witness the transformation.
“Go, Guardians!” I scream, pumping my fist in the air along with the crowd.
The cheers crescendo, and then, they’re off.
Fans scream in excitement, but as I watch them skate, all I feel is this overwhelming admiration mixed with deep-seated apprehension. It’s a little awful witnessing a hockey game now that I know the timbre of all their laughter.
My attention is drawn to Rhode wherever he goes like his skates are tied to a thread unraveling in my chest. When someone almost slams into him, I wince. Every time he drops down to block a shot, I gasp.
My heart pounds a frantic rhythm throughout the game, but this time, I know it has nothing to do with my anxiety. While I’m impressed by Rhode’s talent, there’s also this fiber of worry throbbing beneath my skin.
In the second period, one of the opposing players slams into him with enough force to shake the plexiglass. The stadium roars in anger, but all I see is a red haze across my vision despite the sparkling lights.
“That was a penalty, ref!” I scream at the top of my lungs. “Open your eyes!”
“That looked painful.” Gwen grimaces. “Is there always this much fighting in hockey?”
“More so in the minors, and it looked more than painful.” I flinch, watching Rhode shake it off on the ice. “That was brutal. Goalies rarely get bodychecked like that. What the hell was Eighteen thinking? Asshole!”
She gives me a quizzical look that’s all eyebrows. “How do you know that?”
“Know what?”
