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“Okay, I’m gonna grab a soda. Want me to get a round of beers for the rest of y’all?” Raleigh asks. I notice she has a slight southern accent. She looks at me. “Do you drink?”
I chuckle and nod.
“Perfect, you already fit in!” Birdie says. “What else do you like to do?”
“I read a lot. Travel. Normal stuff.”
“Oooh, we went to Hawaii during the offseason, and it was amazing,” Raleigh adds. “It’s Barrett’s last season, but after he retires, we plan on spending more time there.”
We go back and forth for a while, getting to know each other, and I realize quickly thatBanksy, as they call him, made a perfect friend match for me. I’m glad he got me together with them because these women are awesome. Before we know it, the warm-ups have begun and the ice is full of players. Cam’s eyes land on me almost instantly, then he smiles and winks.
I wink back.
When we finally get to the puck drop, excitement explodes in the stands. Though the girls next to me seem more excited to add another to their troupe than watching their husbands play. I suppose this is normal to them. For me, it’s thrilling to watch hockey up close like this. I cheer along with the girls who root for the different players on the team—mostly for their husbands. I follow their lead, but mostly keep my eye on Teller, number forty-six.
Cam is playing great. He retrieves the puck and flies down the ice with it, passing back and forth to other teammates. A puck battle breaks out, and everyone stands. He recovers, gets a shot, and it bounces off the goalie’s skate, pinging into the net. I’m instantly jumping, screaming, and high-fiving strangers along with everyone else in the crowd. I’ve been catching a lot more televised games since moving into his apartment above the garage but seeing the lightning-fast action right in front of you is a thrill!
A few guys slap his helmet, then he heads back to the bench, and the coach claps him on the shoulder, but his eyes are still on the ice. Cam looks at me over his shoulder again and smiles. Micky nudges me, and I nudge her back like we’re in middle school.
“Maybe she’s his lucky charm...” she says to the group.
“Nah, if anything, it’s his first goal jersey.” I pluck the thick material.
All three stare at me.
“What?”Do I have something on my face?
“He gave you that jersey?” Micky asks.
Raleigh points at what I’m wearing. “That’s his first goal jersey?”
“He didn’tgiveit to me. It’s just to borrow for the game,” I explain.
“Oh girl. Come on.” Birdie’s mouth tips up on one side as she smirks at me.
“No, it’s not like that.” I shake my head adamantly.
“No, girl itisthat. Plain and simple,” Raleigh says. “He’s probably got a mountain of jerseys at home, all the guys do. If it didn’t mean anything, he would have given you one of those. But to give youthatjersey?”
Birdie’s jaw drops. “Holy shit, hell must have frozen over. Banksy’s crushing!”
“No, no, no.” I wave my hands. “I promise, he’s still Banksy.”
“Yeah, okay!” Micky laughs. “I’m calling it now. He’s into you.”
They can’t give me false hope like that.
“I got out of a serious relationship not long ago, the last thing I need is to get involved with somebody.”
“Too late for that!”
I laugh. “I swear. Besides, it’s complicated.”
“Oooh-ooh! Are we playing thewhose-relationship-is-more-complicatedgame? I love this one, I always win. Okay, let’s hear it!” Raleigh says.
I narrow my eyes at them. I don’t know these women. Can I trust them?
“You first,” I reply. I gotta know that my story isn’t goingup against something likehe forgot our anniversary onceor some shit.
