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We’re building our lives around each other. We’re making plans and following through. I no longer remember a time when Ollie wasn’t at the center of my life.
That doesn’t mean that everything is perfect, like a storybook ending. It’s not. It’s really hard a lot of days. We can go weeks without seeing each other while he travels the country, playing hockey, and I chase my degree. We’re forced to plan for something as simple as a phone conversation when he’s on the West Coast, playing back-to-back games, and I’m attending a party at Charlie’s place. It’s still strange to be around the Sinclair hockey team without Ollie, the “fun killer”—I say that facetiously. Life is just better when Ollie’s around. But it’s work to carve out time for one another.
We’re both still a hot mess, more used to being single than part of a couple. I’m stubborn, and we often lock horns, even over innocuous things. And Ollie didn’t suddenly become a great communicator just because we fell in love. There’s been a steep learning curve since we coupled up. Even before, if I’m being honest. We still argue, but we make up quickly these days. And we fiercely fight for each other. We’re growing and trying together.
Ollie and I realize that we’re on the same team, working toward the same goal. He’s in my corner, and I know he’d raise hell for me, the same way I would for him.
It’s Christmas break now, and we’re done with classes for a few weeks. The first semester of my sophomore year has officially ended. Instead of going home right away, a few of us headed to Chicago. Ollie secured a suite in the arena for his friends and family, so we’re attending one of his games in style. I’m surrounded by familiar faces, but my attention is on the ice and him. I’m sitting here in my prime seat with a sweet view, wearing my jersey, the one Ollie got for me with his name and number on the back. Oakley’s next to me, dressed the same, talking to her parents, and Chase is next to her. The energy of the arena is unmatched. We’re snacking on the catered food and drinking the free drinks. We’re cheering with the crowd and jeering at the opponents.
“Let’s go, Latham!” Chase yells encouragement as one of Ollie’s teammates makes a hit below, two big bodies slamming into the side of the rink.
They’re playing their rivals from the Midwest. The Hawks are up three to two midway through the third period. Ollie’s team has surpassed everyone’s expectations so far. They were propelled to the next level when the owners made a couple of trades last month that turned out to be a gold mine. The guys have gelled in a way everyone hoped for, but no one anticipated. They’re on a winning streak that they’re hoping to continue tonight at home.
And the icing on the cake? Ollie is in the running for Rookie of the Year. He’s at the top of the league in goals and assists. And with the number of fans wearing his jersey tonight, I’d say he’s quickly becoming a fan favorite. Without a doubt, he’s my favorite player.
“Ollie’s on fire tonight,” Oakley says. There’s a note of pride in her voice that keeps growing as Ollie accomplishes more and more on this national stage.
If anyone doubted how Ollie would handle the transition from college to the professional league, he’s demolished those doubts night after night with his performances. He’s never once looked like a rookie out there among veterans.
I glance down at my phone when it chimes with a new text. It’s my mom. She’s watching the game at home with Brent. We’ve been talking more, and things are better. Brent seems to be good for her. She’s calmer and more settled since she met him. Most evenings now, I can find her at home, making dinner with her new husband, rather than running the city at all hours of the night. She’s happy, and that radiates into all the other areas of her life, including our relationship. We have a long way to go, but we’re finally moving in the right direction. I respond to her message and tuck my phone away.
My attention centers back on the ice, and I grab the armrests when the Hawks get a breakaway with Ollie leading the pack. He skates to the right and passes at the last minute. His teammate shoots a bullet that deflects off the top of the goal. The crowd howls in response.
“He should’ve taken the shot,” Chase comments, literally sitting on the edge of his seat. He looks like a giant kid attending his first professional hockey game. His eyes are wide and laser-focused on the ice, like he’s taking in as much of the atmosphere and action as he can.
I wonder if he’s picturing himself down there.
Ollie has scored two goals tonight, one in the first period and another in the second. One more, and he’ll have his first coveted hat trick in the big leagues. It’s a big deal, but we all know Ollie’s a team player first and foremost. He would pass the puck before taking the glory for himself.
“He’ll never put himself over the team,” Oakley says knowingly, reading my mind while glancing at her boyfriend. “You know that.”
“If there’s a time for him to be selfish, it’s now,” Chase counters.
I think his teammates must agree because for the remaining ten minutes of the game, every time Ollie is on the ice, he’s fed the puck. The crowd gasps when he makes a slap shot that goes wide. Another is blocked by a defenseman. Ollie takes a hard hit when he attempts to skate around a defender and draws a penalty, setting the team up for a power play. I’m holding my breath as the players on the Hawks team pass the puck around, trying to set up a shot. The goalie blocks one, two, and then three attempts. The crowd is riveted—and probably drunk by this time of the night—and reacting to every attempt with vigor.
Reeve’s, a defenseman on Ollie’s line, rockets the puck toward the goal. It ricochets off the goalie’s shoulder. Ollie is there. He pounds the puck into the back of the net. It happens so fast, like a reflex, that I miss it at first. The crowd erupts. I jump to my feet and scream my head off for him with my arms in the air in triumph.
“Hell yeah!” Chase bellows from a few feet away.
He slaps hands with Mr. Burnham, who I’ve never seen smile so wide before. Pride is seeping from his pores and radiating through his face. I glance at his wife to see tears streaming down her face.
“Mom!” Oakley scolds. “This is a good thing! A happy thing!”
“I’m happy,” she insists, wiping the wetness from her cheeks. Her husband hugs her from the side, and the tears pour again. “I’m just so proud of him.” Her voice breaks.
Oakley shakes her head with a grin. “You’re such a sap, Mom.”
But I see a sheen of moisture in my bestie’s eyes too. I tilt my head with a knowing smirk, and she sticks her tongue out at me when she notices. Then, she laughs. I join in.
We watch as dozens of hats are thrown onto the ice as Ollie knocks gloves with his line of teammates in the box before exiting the ice. The entire scene is surreal. He sits, and I imagine him taking it all in as he watches the skaters collecting all the hats that were thrown in his honor for the first time in his professional career. He tips his head in the direction of our suite, and I can feel his stare instantly even though I can’t see his eyes from here. I try to convey what I’m thinking telepathically.
You did it, baby. You’ve arrived.
I’m so glad I was here to see Ollie accomplish another goal in person. It’s just not the same, watching it on television from a million miles away. And I know without a doubt, this will be the first of many. Ollie’s a force. Unstoppable. He’s going to be a legend; I can feel it. My entire body tingles from that thought. And knowing that I get to watch it happen while standing by his side, supporting him … life is truly sweet.
Time expires, and the arena explodes all over again. The three stars of the game are announced. It’s no surprise that Ollie’s the number one star tonight. He speaks eloquently while giving an interview on the ice. And then he disappears into the locker room. I can only imagine the celebration going on in there.
We wait in the friends and family area for about twenty minutes before Ollie emerges, his dark hair still wet from a shower. It reminds me of all the times I waited with Oakley for her brother after a game of his that we just watched. I can picture him in the junior leagues all the way up to now because I’ve witnessed it all, just from a distance. I was a background character before, the best friend of the sister of the star hockey player. But I’m not at a distance anymore, and I’m no longer an extra in this movie. I’m reminded of that fact when Ollie’s gaze finds me first when he walks into the room, making me feel special, like he always tends to do. He winks at me as his parents approach, hugging him one at a time, his dad slapping his back. He knocks fists with a few of his friends, hugs his sister, and then turns toward me. We’re a breath apart.
