Page 1 of Hit Me With Your Best Shot

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austin

They thought I was a nice, nerdy, bookish girl?—

then hockey season started…

If you would’ve told me I’d have to miss going to this hockey game, I would’ve laughed/cried in your face.

Seriously.

Hockey isn’t just a sport to me—it’s areligion.

The thing you should know about me (because we’re still strangers, you and I) is that I’m aSuperFan.

Capital S, capital F.

I’m talking: custom jerseys, face paint, cardboard signs to hold up—the whole nine yards.

It must be genetic because my dad? He loved hockey, too. And since he’s up in heaven looking down on me, watching makes it feel like he’s still here. So, yeah.

I’ll probably never stop loving the game.

When Dad passed, I was gifted his season passes to the Houston Baddies and I haven’t missed a game since.

Until tonight.

Missing the game feels sacrilegious somehow; like the universe is playing a cruel trick on me. But here I am, out of thearena, with my heart in the rink, watching the game from a screen instead of my usual seat.

But hey, I did a good thing, right?

Letting my friend Paul—alsoa die-hard fan—use the seats. He’s planning to propose to his boyfriend during the third period, and it’s going to be on the freaking Jumbotron.

Super romantic.

Super public.

So extra—exactly like Paul and Emilio.

Giving him the seats felt like the perfect engagement gift. If missing the game means they’ll have a night to remember, it’s worth it.

So here I am, at a bar called Five Alarm near my condo, watching from a plasma screen like a mere mortal instead of the superfan I am.

Love trumps hockey.

Sometimes.

“Come on!” I shout at the wall of monitors in front of me. “Let’s go!”

The Baddies aren’t going to win the way they’re playing tonight.

Like complete shit.

A groan escapes me as one of the forwards fumbles a pass, turning over the puck. Again.

“It’s like they’ve forgotten they’re on ice!” I complain to no one in particular, throwing my hands in the air. A couple of heads turn my way from the far end of the bar, but I’m not bothered.

If I can’t be in the arena, I’ll be the loudest Baddie’s fan this place has ever seen, my eyes never leaving the television set.