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“Shut up,” I mumble.
“You’re as bad as your brother,” Ava laughs, pointing at the man in question, who is hanging over the boards at the bench, shouting at the referee. “Do you think he’s going to start a fight?”
I watch as Jack waves his one good arm frantically, his face turning red as he shouts God knows what at the irritated-looking ref. “If he had both arms it definitely would have been a possibility.”
“When will the cast come off?”
“It should only be another few weeks, so he should be playing by the second week of the season if nothing goes wrong.”
“At least he won’t miss too much.”
“Thank God,” I chuckle. “He’d be driving everyone up the wall if he missed much more.”
“I can’t believe he still hasn’t picked up on what’s going on between you and Ian. Are you going to tell him anytime soon?”
I bite my lip, shifting guiltily in my seat. “Yes…soon.”
“Do you think he’ll be weird about it?”
“Probably.” I shrug. “But he’ll get over it. He loves us both. He’s not going to do something drastic like disown us over it.”
“He loves you, you love each other…It’s all very disgusting and cute.”
I feel my face flush. “What?”
“Oh, come on.” Ava rolls her eyes. “You’ve spent the first two innings of this game—”
“Periods,” I correct.
“Whatever,” she huffs. “You’ve spent the entire game watching Ian like he’s got a golden dick and shits saltwater taffy.”
“Well, that’s utterly awful.”
“But not incorrect,” Ava laughs.
I press my knuckles to my burning cheeks, wondering if they’re as red as they feel. I catch sight of Ian’s bright smile as he claps Logan on the shoulder after a successful play, gliding back down the ice effortlessly and looking every bit in his element. The things I feel for Ian aren’t new, or at all a surprise, and they’re definitely strong, but can I really say that I love him? Wanted him, dreamt of him, burned for him, yes—but love?
The crowd around me starts to grow restless as the clock ticks down the last sixty seconds of the game, interrupting my train of thought. The teams are tied right now, and if nothing happens, they’ll have to go into overtime.
People are standing up again as the puck drops to the ice, the center for Ian’s team, Oscar, slapping it away from Felix on the other team and pushing it toward the other team’s goal. Ian and Logan work in tandem as the left and right wing to block Prescott from making a go for Oscar, and I can feel myself standing again as well, my heart thudding, as it seems like they might pull ahead.
“What’s happening?” Ava stands next to me, grabbing my arm and shaking it as the crowd starts yelling again. “I don’t know what the fuck is happening!”
“Oscar’s about to try to score,” I tell her, biting my thumbnail. “He’s the one with the puck. Oh! That was one of the other team’s forwards that just shoved him into the corner. They’re battling now.”
“Battling?”
“It just means the other team is trying to get the puck so they can—shit!”
“What? What happened?”
“Puck is loose—someone get it!” I wave my hands in the air as if anyone can actually hear me, adrenaline coursing through me. “Yes!” I shake Ava. “Ian’s got it. He’s got it! Oh! He just shot it to Jankowski, I think they could—fuck yeah!”
Our section explodes with noise when Jankowski shoots the puck right between the opposing goalie’s legs as Ian’s team takes the win at the last second.
“They won!” I shout to Ava, who is wild-eyed but smiling. “They fucking won!”
“There are children around!” Ava shouts back, laughing. “But fuck yeah!”
