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“I don’t care what people think, Denny. I’ll see you after the game, okay?”
I nod. “Good luck.”
The saying earns me a cocky smirk. “I don’t need luck. If you think there’s a chance we’re losing, you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”
I roll my eyes. “I didn’tsayyou’d lose.”
Elliot grins. “I’ll see you after, okay?”
“Okay.”
He flashes me another smile then disappears. I make my way out of the locker room and head back to my seat among Elliot’s family. There are only a few minutes left until the game resumes, and the spectators milling around are returning to their seats. Josie eyes the sweatshirt I’ve pulled on, but she says nothing.
A buzzer signals the imminent start to the beginning of the third period, and the players file back out onto the ice for a brief warm-up. My eyes are drawn immediately to Elliot, who circles Canmore’s end of the ice like a bird of prey in flight.
After a few laps, he joins his teammates at the center, and the drop of the puck signifies the beginning of the end of the game.
Watching Elliot weave and dodge between opponents effortlessly reminds me of our visit here last summer—mostly because it completely takes the wind out of my sails on that victory. He took it easy on me…reallyeasy. I sit transfixed as I watch the non-stop activity, leaping out of my seat as Elliot scores another goal ten minutes later. With only two minutes left in the game, he sends the puck flying to Josh, changing the scoreboard to 5-1 and all but ensuring a home team victory. The pandemonium in the building builds as they continue skating throughout the final seconds until the final buzzer sounds, triggering an explosion of sound as the stadium erupts.
The small section of opposing fans remains seated while the rest of the spectators stand, screaming congratulations at the mass of navy jerseys huddled together on the ice surrounded by strewn helmets, gloves, and sticks. Eventually, the glob of navy separates as both teams form single lines to shake hands. Once the ritual is complete, Canmore regroups to take a team photograph, with each player taking a turn to hoist the championship trophy.
When it reaches Elliot’s hands, the din reaches a new pitch, a clear acknowledgement of his integral role in the Canmore victory.
Once congratulations have waned on the ice, the players begin filing off into the walkway, leaving the fans in the stands to continue celebrating as Queen’s “We Are the Champions” blasts through the building. I’m out of my element in more ways than one, but I’m also ridiculously proud of Elliot. This victory means a lot to him.
I trail along with his family over to the opposite end of the rink that houses the main locker rooms. Progress is slow. Elliot’s mother and stepfather are repeatedly stopped by congratulations on his performance. By the time we finally make it over to the player’s exit, I’m shocked by the crowd that has already gathered, waiting to see the teenagers who have delivered Canmore and the surrounding area the highest honor in junior hockey.
We reach the locker rooms right as a sudden roar sounds among the crowd, and I glance over to see Elliot and Josh have appeared at the end of the tunnel. Both are freshly showered, sporting wet hair, along with athletic shorts, t-shirts, and sneakers, with their duffle bags swung over their shoulders. They start to make their way through but are quickly stopped by fans clamoring to talk to them.
Elliot eventually gets over to his family. I hang back as he hugs Josie and shakes Jeff’s hand. Isabella hugs his leg while Lucy and Mia talk to friends. His gaze lingers on me, but I pretend I don’t notice. I suddenly feel shy. Out of place, for sure. The last time I was here, Elliot and I barely knew each other. That may no longer be the case, but it feels strange to be here in the midst of all these people wanting to talk to him and act like I have a right to.Shake it off, I tell myself. This isElliot. I told him when I slipped down the stairs in my fuzzy socks two weeks ago and then proceeded to graphically describe the bruise on my ass.
He approaches me with a smirk I feel everywhere. “Told ya.”
“Ineversaid you would lose!” Both dimples appear. “Congrats,” I tell him.
“You ready to head out?”
“Umm, sure. But if you want to stay, that’s fin—”
“I don’t want to stay. I want to hang out with you.”
I try to act like that won’t be on repeat in my head for a while. “Okay.”
He grabs my hand and tugs me toward the door. I don’t protest or pull away. There’s no one I trust more or want to follow more than Elliot Reid.
And, yeah, that will probably end badly.
Forme.
But some things are worth the potential for disaster.
At least, that’s what I’m telling myself now.
Auden
“So…I was thinking.”
“Thinking about what?” I take a bite of my mushroom taco then wipe my face with a paper napkin.
