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“What, official? I don’t know.” I shrug as the lights black out and then flash on with the pregame theatrics. “Do people still ask someone to be their boyfriend at our age?” I have to ask a little louder now that the music is in full force.
I don’t miss the curious look from the coach’s wife.
I sink a little in my seat. Oh no, I groan. The last thing I want is for more people to be involved in my love life. I don’t want or need the attention.
“I don’t know if they do, but I think you should.” She emphasizes the word you.
Thankfully the arena lights flash and the music blasts, preparing the crowd for the game to start, and to give me a little bit of a reprieve. A much-needed reprieve.
As Sean takes the ice, my heart flutters. I love to watch him skate. God, who am I kidding, I just love to watch him. His broad shoulders. His muscles, which I may not be able to see beneath all that equipment, but I know is there. Sometimes the thought of taking his clothes off excites me as much as him already having his clothes off.
“Yeah.” Heather smacks my arm. “You’re drooling. I’d say it’s getting pretty obvious y’all are something.” She tosses a piece of popcorn in her mouth. She’s moved on to other snacks she bought now that I’ve eaten half her pretzel. “I don’t know why you thought no one would notice.”
She yanks back the popcorn container before I can grab some.
“I fooled you, didn’t I.” I stick out my tongue.
“Barely.” She rolls her eyes, but let’s the conversation go as we settle in to watch the guys.
The match picks up as they guys chase around the puck. It seems as if the game is going well, because our players have control more often than theirs. And our fans seem confident.
Number six passes it to number eleven, who I think is Connor maybe. And then they pass it ahead to someone who’s number I can’t make out. I still don’t know all the guys or their numbers, but I’m getting better. It’d be easier if they’d stay still long enough to get a good look.
But I can always spot the one that matters. The only one I watch for with certainty is Sean.
Just as I think of him, Sean gets around a defender and cuts to the middle, guys trailing behind him. Cory passes it to him. Sean attacks the goal, avoiding one of their guys to take the shot on goal.
He brings his stick back. And scores.
The buzzer sounds as I jump up out of my seat, screaming, grabbing onto Heather’s hands as I cheer his name.
Sean scored. Sean scored!
He skates around the goal and celebrates with his teammates, but he passes in front of us, pauses, and then points his stick directly at me.
“Look!” Heather nudges me. “You’re on the big screen.”
“The what?” The image above replays Sean scoring his goal and then pointing his stick to me. “Oh no. What does that mean?” I lean over to ask her.
“It means he dedicated his goal to you. You’re going to famous!” She says the last part as if it’s a good thing, but I shake it off.
He dedicated his goal to me. I wish I could disappear.
I guess this really is more than just another game.
The guys skate back to center ice and the face off resumes as the ref drops the puck and the players scatter once more.
He dedicated his goal to me.
It’s hard to pay attention to the rest of the match, my thoughts getting trapped on Sean and how handsome he is, or when I count how many times that he looks over at me.
I can’t believe he did something so… public. I wonder if Heather is right? If that is something that means… I don’t know. That we’re official?
The second period plays out scoreless, but in the third, Connor scores two more. Heather practically faints with joy.
When the final buzzer echoes through the arena, I feel elated. It’s almost as if I won the game myself.
We rush down to where the players exit the locker room, and Sean, emotional, sweeps me into an embrace. I wrap my arms around him, not caring who sees, or that there’s flashing in our peripheral. All that matters in this moment is him.
