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18
SUMMER
Two weeks later, I’m amidst a mob of buzzing students and hockey fans at the Brumehill hockey arena. When Hudson told me that the Black Bears’ first preseason game was coming up, and that they’d be playing it at home, I knew I had to be there.
What kind of girlfriend misses her boyfriend’s first game of the year, preseason or not?
If Sean somehow caught wind of me not being here, he’d probably smell an opening. I want him to think that my and Hudson’s relationship is airtight, without a single crack for him to worm through.
“I can’t believe we never came to one of these before!” When we get to our seats, I have to shout to Olivia to make myself heard over the crowd that’s already packing the stands, filling the air with chants, hollers, victory songs, and any kind of noise you can think of.
I’ve never been much of a sports girl, honestly. I have gone to a couple football games over the years, but never a hockey game. I don’t know why it’s taken me so long, because hockey is actually more popular than football here at Brumehill.
If I knew how charged and pumped-up the atmosphere was, it wouldn’t have taken a fake relationship to get me to my first game.
“I can!” Olivia shouts back. “Because hockey players are jerks!”
I roll my eyes and playfully swat at my best friend’s shoulder. She sure holds on tight to the grudge she developed thanks to that ex.
“You shouldn’t be implying my boyfriend’s a jerk,” I say with a wink. Luckily the air is buzzing with so much noise and conversation that we don’t have to worry about being overheard.
Olivia just flashes me a wry smile as if to say, I’d be staging an intervention for you if I didn’t know it was fake.
I couldn’t convince Olivia to get a jersey for the game. The best I could do was get her to wear one of her Brumehill College sweaters, so she’s at least showing some general school spirit, even if she won’t sully her body with anything hockey related.
As for me, of course I’m wearing Hudson’s jersey. It was only released for sale a couple days ago. Hudson brought one over to my place, assuming it would only be natural for me to wear it to his first game.
I tell myself that it’s nothing. That wearing this jersey is no different than being any sports fan and picking up a popular player’s jersey from the merchandise table.
But it sure doesn’t feel like nothing. Hudson’s last name burns on my back. The fact that what I’m wearing is his blares in my head nonstop.
The iconic riff of Seven Nations Army by the White Stripes pumps through the arena speakers, and if I thought it was loud in here before, I didn’t know the definition of loud.
The place comes unglued, cheering so loud that the floor vibrates. The sight of the entire arena rising to their feet at almost the same moment is like something out of a movie, some special effect. It hardly seems real. Being caught up in it makes my blood pump with excitement.
Glancing to my side, I see that even Olivia, who’s no doubt making an actual effort not to get too into the atmosphere, is on her feet, letting out a cheer.
The team skates out onto the ice, and when I see Hudson, unmistakable in his goalie mask, I raise my voice in an attempt to carry over the crowd.
“Let’s go Hudson!” I yell, even though I know there’s zero chance he can hear me across the distance.
Hudson lifts the cage of his goalie mask and scans my section, where he knows I’m sitting. I hop up and down, waving my hands over my head, trying to draw his attention.
Then his eyes fall on me, and my heartbeat leaps into my throat.
He brings his mitt up to his mouth and blows a kiss in my direction.
It’s fake. It’s fake. It’s fake.
I have to tell myself that three times to keep my heart from squishing in my chest. No matter how many times I repeat any mantra in my head, though, I can’t keep my thighs from clenching, can’t keep that warm, gooey feeling from settling low in my core.
When the team starts skating around the ice and loosening up, I feel Olivia side-eye piercing me.
“What?” I ask, not even looking towards her.
“I need to start taking acting lessons from you,” she says in a tone that makes me feel very called out.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
