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“It’s kinda cold in here.”
Trace nods toward the ice. “Well yeah.”
“Shut up,” I laugh.
We finally try the nachos and I think it may just be the best thing ever created. Whoever thought to combine the two is a genius. Luckily, I’m holding the plate, so I get to hog the food. Suddenly, players take the ice and people cheer. I flick my gaze to the jumbotron and my jaw drops as I see all the handsome faces.
“Damn,” I mutter.
“What?” Trace asks.
“I need to be a hockey fan. Look at those guys.” I point to two who are among the few not wearing helmets. Both are hot as hell. Ramsey and Polinski. I need to remember those names, I think. You know, maybe there are shirtless photos online somewhere.
Trace shakes his head with a small smile and steals what’s left of the nachos from me. I try to keep track of all the players, but it’s hard as they go about their warm-ups. A couple sits down next to me. The man looks at both of us and asks, “First game?”
“Yeah,” Trace answers. “What gave us away?”
“No shirts, jerseys, or team colors. We’ve been coming for years and can always spot the newbies,” his wife responds.
We make small chit-chat and soon, the game starts. I’m lost about fifteen seconds in. These guys can fly. Who knew you could move that fast on skates? I try to keep up with where the puck is, but it’s not always easy. The man next to me volunteers himself as our hockey instructor, explaining everything that’s happening.
I tune him out, but Trace seems to be listening. Considering I can’t seem to follow along, I don’t know if this is fun or not. Definitely interesting. Even more so when a pair of players starts fighting. It’s like a brawl and apparently, it’s a normal occurrence. Their punishment is simply sitting in a penalty box. Maybe if I could find my inner sports fan who watches only for the hotties on skates as foundation, I could see myself watching on occasion, or coming to a game here and there.
After the second intermission, though, I start getting tired and fidgety. It has been nice to get away and do something new, but thoughts of the homework I planned to do tonight, of being around so many people, and traveling is wearing on me. I rest my head on Trace’s shoulder as the last period starts.
“Okay, Britt?”
“Yeah.”
“We can head home early if you want.”
“No, that’s okay.” I am enjoying myself for the most part.
He lowers his voice and says, “Still hot and bothered by the players?”
I laugh. “No. Turns out, I like my men with zero athletic ability.”
He chuckles and kisses the top of my head. “Men?”
“Man,” I correct myself.
“That’s better.”
“Trace?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad we came and got away for a bit.”
“Me too.” He squeezes my hand and I feel just a little better. Sometimes, often, we have to force ourselves to either do the normal day-to-day things or to do something we don’t particularly want to do, but know it’ll be helpful. This is one of those things. Feel like it or not, just have to do it. Because, as I predicted, my feel-good moment leaves.
It’s such a long trip home. I’m reminded of why I like it better when my parents come to me. Plus, I had to get up early to leave because I have an appointment with Dr. Gunner at one o’clock and my parents want time with me before then. Trace asked me yesterday if I had given more thought to a possible med change, and I told him I still wasn’t sure. I plan to ask my parents for their opinion over lunch.
Thankfully, my parents are fixing a simple lunch at home. That’s about all I can handle at this point. Mom and Dad are in the kitchen, laughing as they prepare our meal, when I arrive.
“Knock, knock,” I say as I walk into the room.
Dad is the first to reach me. He pulls me into a tight hug and I breathe in the comforting scent of his aftershave. “I’m glad you’re here.”
