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The Devils were locked in a thrilling battle on the ice. As I weaved through the suite, I couldn't help but steal glances at the game whenever I had a moment. The fans, a mix of die-hard hockey enthusiasts and corporate guests, were all eager to catch a glimpse of their favorite players in action. The three stars of the team—Sebastian, Carter, and Jack—had become local—and national—legends, their faces adorning billboards and merchandise all over the city.
Sebastian, with his striking blond hair and piercing dark blue eyes, was a defenseman. Carter, the team's captain, had tousled brown hair and mesmerizing green eyes, and was one of the best goalies in the league. Jack, with his ash blond hair and captivating hazel eyes, was the star wing known for his incredible speed and goal-scoring prowess.
My gaze was drawn to the three of them whenever I got a chance. Carter had been the guy watching me on the ice the other day. I’d realized that when I’d come into work and seen his picture on the wall. I’d also seen Jack and Sebastian’s pictures.
And I definitely had a little crush.
They were the heart and soul of the Devils, the reason why the team had such a dedicated fanbase. And to be honest, they were the most attractive men I'd ever seen.
I tried to ignore the fact that they also looked familiar, figuring my brain was just making things up…
Because why on earth would three NHL hockey stars look familiar?
"Drinks for you gentlemen," I said with a cool smile as I set them down in front of the suited men watching the game.
One of them flashed me what I’m sure he thought was a charming grin. "Thanks, sweetheart,” he said, as his companion nodded appreciatively, his cold brown eyes lingering on mine for a moment longer than necessary. "Just what we needed."
Another guy leaned in closer, his eyes dull and glazed from how drunk he was already. "What's your name?"
"Kennedy," I replied stiffly, trying to give off the vibes that I was not interested.
I was especially not interested after my date the other night, which I thought had been going well. Only for the guy to ghost me by pretending he needed to meet up with someone who’d found his credit card.
Spoiler alert. He’d never come back.
"Kennedy," the guy repeated, as if savoring the name. "That's a beautiful name."
I held in my eye roll, my gaze drifting to the next suite like someone needed me.
“I’ll be back to check on you guys in a bit,” I told them, walking away.
“Can’t wait,” one of the guys called after me. The attention would have been flattering if the three jackoffs hadn’t all been sporting wedding rings and dire receding hairlines.
I wondered if men had sucked this much in my old life.
As I moved on to the next suite, I couldn't resist stealing another glance at the game. The Devils were locked in a fierce battle with the L.A. Cobras. Everyone was excited for the matchup since Ari Lancaster, one of the league’s star defenseman, had just joined the team. I’d gotten a glimpse of him on the jumbotron, and he was as beautiful as Carter, Sebastian, and Jack. Maybe there was something in the water that hockey players drank.
Or maybe not. John Soto, one of the L.A. Cobras popped up on the screen, and he was not in any way, shape, or form fun to look at.
The tension was palpable, and the crowd's roars and cheers echoed through the arena.
Jack had already scored a goal, and the fans were on the edge of their seats, hoping for a victory against a much flashier team. Even though I had a few games under my belt now that I worked for the arena, I couldn't help but get caught up in the excitement.
My shift continued, and I found myself stealing glances at the scoreboard whenever I had a moment. The clock was winding down, and the Devils were clinging to their lead. The arena was a roar of cheers, jeers, and nail-biting tension.
In the final minutes of the game, the Cobras launched a relentless offense, desperate to tie the score. The Devils’ defense, led by Carter and Sebastian, held firm, blocking shots and preventing any last-minute heroics.
Jack gave Soto a face wash and a fight broke out—wait…face wash? How did I know what that was? Face wash was hockey slang…not soap in this case, but probably not commonly known.
A wave of unease passed over me—or was that deja vu? Everything with hockey seemed to come pretty easily to me.
Like I already knew it all, and just needed a reminder.
The crowd booed, and my dark thoughts broke as I glanced down at the ice and saw Jack skating towards the penalty box. Yikes. There were two minutes left and the team would have to finish without their best scorer.
The crowd roared with anticipation, knowing that every second counted.
Sebastian took charge. He slammed an opponent against the boards with bone-crushing force, sending a clear message that the Devils weren't going down without a fight. The crowd erupted in cheers, and the L.A. Cobras player struggled to regain his composure.
