Page 15

I ’m lingering on the dangerous side of my door. Out in the hallway, trying to push myself somewhere I swore I’d never go.

The lion’s den. The snake pit. The hornet’s nest.

A college hockey game.

Why?

Claire is why. After dropping Kelly at the airport she made a sobbing, sniffle- filled call from the car. “I’m on my way to watch Noah. It’s the family game, Lotte. All the moms and dads and aunts and cousins and drunk uncles with one tooth and three moles will be there … I told him I would be there, but I don’t know if I can do it without her, but if I don’t do it Noah is going to be alone and—”

I had many questions, most concerning the uncle with the moles, but I voice none and instead for some reason scream, “I’ll come! What time is it? I’ll be there.”

“But you hate—”

“It doesn’t matter what I hate. You have given me so much I have given you nothing. Please let me do this.”

“Lotte, I didn’t call for this.”

“I know you didn’t.” I cut off her argument, already searching for my keys. “You called because we are friends and that’s what friends do. They’re there when they need each other. I’m on the phone now, let me be there at the game too.”

So yeah, I’m wearing a varsity jacket I bought purely from peer pressure on my first day on campus, clinging to a doorknob, praying I get a text saying, ‘Lotte, there has been a freak localized weather event. All is well, but the game is canceled.’ I stare at the phone in my hand, willing the weather service to do its thing … but nothing.

“Hey Lotte. It’s the first time I’ve seen you in school colors. Maroon suits you.”

Turning to the voice, I find Ryan Donnelly, grandson of Pam, one of my neighbors. He introduced himself a few nights ago after seeing me and Noah together in Beanz and Bookz. He’s tall, dark and handsome, flirtatious too, yet he appeals to me as much as sugar free cake does.

“Oh, hey Ryan. Thanks … Wait, why aren’t you at the game?”

“Rolled my ankle at practice.” He limps over, leans against the door jam and looks me up and down. Instantly, I picture Noah doing the same thing and feel a head-to-toe shiver. “Riding the bench for this one. Are you heading there now? Want to come with?”

“Um.” Eyes darting between Ryan and the floor, I chew my lip. He seems like a nice guy. His Gran is lovely, he’s Noah’s teammate and I’m late. Saving the cash on the Uber would be handy too. “Sure. That would be great, thanks.”

“Cool, but I just gotta grab one thing first. Wait here.” With a mischievous grin, he spins and runs back up the hall and disappears into his Gran’s apartment, reemerging a few seconds later with something hanging over his arm. “Am I right in thinking this will be your first time watching Boy Wonder … Noah,” he corrects immediately, “play?”

Crap. That smile tells me he knows I’m into his captain. “It is my inaugural game, yes, but I’m not going to watch Noah as much as to support his sister. It’s the first family night game since their mom passed.” Not a glimmer or sympathy crosses Ryan’s face. “Yeah, so, are Pam or your parents coming with you?”

Ryan shakes his head, and drops his gaze to the floor. “Not this year, Gran’s hip is playing up again and my folks are back in Minnesota. It’s just me I’m afraid.”

Being alone is never fun. I know that more than anything. “Maybe you could sit with Claire and me?”

“Even better, you and Claire can sit with me. I’ll be in the box right by the bench. And here, I have a spare jersey you can wear. It’s way too big, but just throw it over your sweater. Noah will love it.”

A deep maroon jersey is passed to me and my level of excitement takes me by surprise. “You think he would?”

“Trust me. Seeing a cute little thing like you in this … It will be a sight he’ll never forget.”

Hockey games are loud and chaotic and intense and the play hasn’t started yet. Ryan led me through the mass of faces and now sits beside me and the seats around us fill with bodies. After Ryan left instructions at the players entry, I messaged Claire and told her to just say her name at the door, and she would be led to our seats. I’m surprised as the captain’s sister she didn’t have access to the seats in the first place, but Ryan assures me that only injured players and their VIP guests can hold the honor.

When we arrived, the team’s PR person was harassing the VIP section for Instagram worthy photos, and since Claire was stuck in traffic, Ryan and I were forced to pose as a twosome. I’m awkward as fuck at the best of times, let alone when snuggling up to a near stranger with a camera shoved in my face. The whole thing was mortifying.

By the time I flopped into my seat and recovered from near death embarrassment, I’m disappointed to find we’ve missed the players’ warm up. All I want is to see Noah on the ice. He’s so big in every day life. Was massive in his skates at the Green Line, so I can’t imagine what he’s going to look like all padded up. I mean. I’ve done a fair amount of internet stalking, and know he looks like a giant. But seeing him in person will be a whole new level of hot … For a friend. Because he is just my friend.

“Want a beer, or soda? Something to eat?” Ryan asks, cracking his knuckles so loudly I can hear it over the building crowd. I’m still focused on them as I answer with.

“Um—”

“Awesome. Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

I’d only just sat, but I quickly stand to offer him some cash but he ducks away before I can. “Oh my God. We just saw you on Insta? Are you here with Ryan Donnelly? Do you even go here?” Three, big busted blondes, all wearing jerseys like mine but with much less underneath and a much deeper, hand-cut V neckline-, appear before me. I’m blonde and big- breasted myself, so I shouldn’t judge. But I am. These girls are blonde. Like, blonde blonde. Terrifying blonde.

I have no idea what to say to them so I just tell them the truth. “Yes I go here, and yes, I am here with Ryan … Well he drove me here, anyway.”

“So it’s like a date? Where is he then?” Blonde number one says.

“No, it’s not like a date. I just rode with him here and now he’s gone to get us some drinks.” These girls smell like trouble. My tics think the same and decide to make an appearance.

“Hmm. That sounds like a date.” Adds blonde two, who is quickly followed by blonde number three’s, “And you are wearing his jersey.”

“Hey, I’m back.” The girls swoon and fawn as Ryan appears, but scatter, scowling when he pays them little attention. “I got you a beer and some M&Ms.”

“Oh wow. I love M&M’s. Thanks Ryan.” I smile, and blink and I swear I hear those same girls hiss behind me. I wonder if they’re those bunnies Noah was talking about, and that Claire hates. They do seem to be designed to garner attention, but seem more reptilian than lagomorph. My tics continue but Ryan doesn’t seem to notice. We fall into easy conversation about classes and Quinn, and soon, I’ve relaxed to the point where my suppression techniques are effective.

Conte Forum, BC’s sports arena continues to fill, as Ryan fills me the team training schedule and I scan the sea of faces for Claire. “I hope Claire makes it in time. She’ll be so disappointed if she misses kick-off … wait, that’s football. What’s it called here? Puck off?”

Ryan laughs and slides his arm around the back of my chair. “You’re cute. It’s no wonder Petterson is so crazy about you.”

“What? He’s what?”

Ryan doesn’t hear my screeching as the lights dim, the crowd goes wild and then the players emerge. Notre Dame take to the ice first. My heart is racing, probably as fast as the giants on ice before me but all I can think about is Noah, and Ryan thinking Noah is crazy about me? Me?

There is a good chance I may drop dead of a heart attack right here. Fuck. I need to calm down. Need to distract myself.

Like a raccoon, I go for something shiny, “Ohhh, I like their gold helmets.” My girlish squeal is a little too loud, and does not go down well. Thirty-odd people surrounding me, including the blondes, all scowl in disapproval.

“Might want to keep the opposition compliments in your head, Lotte. Especially when you’re with a player.”

“Oh, I’m not with Noah. We’re just friends.”

Ryan smirks and pinches my cheek. “Good to know, but I was talking about me.”

Again. Wait. What? Before I can reply, the Bears hit the ice and every person here is up and out of their seats and screaming. I spot Noah, and the maroon C on the breastplate of his jersey straight away. Lust shoots down my spine and nestles between my legs, because as I thought, he looks so fricken hot. Beside me, Ryan says something but I’m like, Ryan who? At this point.

“Noah!” I yell at the top of my lungs as he skates by. There’s no way my voice will carry above all the others, and even if it did, there’s a good chance he may not want to talk to me with how I’ve been acting. But still, I can’t help myself. “Noah!”

As I suspected, he disappears into a huddle without looking my way. He’s hunched over, spurring on his team with undoubtably Churchill-like words, and again, it’s hot. The boys all chant something that sounds like, “fucking get pucking” then break apart. Hmm, maybe not quite quoting the greatest statesman of the 20th century directly then.

I’ve been told that Noah plays on the wing, so he again skates and comes to a halt right before us. “Go Noah!” I call again and this time he spins, looks straight at me, removes his helmet, then breaks into a massive grin. We are talking full heart stopping, panty dropping dimpleage. He adds a wave and wink, and I think I may just die.

Our gaze holds.

His smile widens.

And I know he said we are only friends, but he likes me.

I can feel it.

See it.

Fuck, with the way he’s drinking me in I can almost taste it.

Though, I really don’t know if he should be watching me like this instead of the game. Neither of us can look away. It’s like we’re the only two here.

Holy shit. We’re having a Troy and Gabriela moment, High School Musical moment. One of us could burst into song at any minute.

Shit I wish I could sing.

Before I can do any vocal warm ups, Ryan leans in and says something into my ear. There’s a flash of movement, an arm looping around my waist. My eyes remain locked on Noah’s as I’m pulled sideways. His face flashes a deeper red than the jersey he wears, he yells something out just as the puck drops, and play begins behind him. I want to tell him to move, or go or something but I can’t because Ryan has cupped my cheeks in his hands and is pressing his lips onto mine.