Page 28

Silja turns to me and thinks for a second. “There’s a bar in the stadium that has half-price drinks before games. Should we go there?”

“Let’s do it,” I say, and she leads the way.

We settle into a high-top on the second floor, next to a window overlooking the square in front of the rink.

The menus are digital, and we both scan the code, but Silja apparently decides in record time because she puts her phone down almost immediately.

I order a random drink, not caring what exactly it is.

“So,” Silja says after I order, “is this your first time visiting Sweden?”

“Yeah, it is. Erik invited me one night and I decided to go ahead with coming here.”

Her eyes narrow. “That’s a long flight. You two must be very good friends.”

There it is. “Alright, you clearly think there’s something going on between me and Erik.”

“Is there not?”

“What makes you think that?”

Silja glances out of the window. “Oh, I don’t know. It might have something to do with the fact you break into a smile whenever I say Erik’s name.”

“I do that?”

“You’re doing it right now! It’s cute.”

I force myself to stop smiling. “Yeah, okay. Erik and I are?—”

— hooking up? That’s kind of vulgar to say around someone you met five minutes ago.

“—involved. But we can’t be more than friends, unfortunately,” I say.

She doesn’t say anything, and that’s when our drinks arrive. I take a sip of mine and gag. “Oh, god. This is straight up liquor,” I sputter.

“What did you order?” Silja asks, glancing at the order confirmation, and then she snickers. “Luke, you got a drink with three shots in it.”

I tilt my head. “Three?”

Silja nods. “Yup, the receipt says 12 cl, which is three shots. I’m supposed to be teaching you how to drink like a Swede, but you’re doing all of the work for me.”

The alcohol still lingers in my mouth, and against my better judgement, I take another sip. This time, it goes down a lot smoother. “Well, everything is half price before the game, so I guess it works out. Erik said I might meet the team afterward, so I could use some liquid courage.”

In reality, I’ll need some help to act normal around the team while also being around Erik. The last thing I need is to maul him in front of everyone.

“You’ve been in the country for two hours and you’re already thinking like one of us, good job,” Silja says, smiling. “The game starts in a bit, but we should eat something and get more drinks beforehand. Are you okay with splitting a pitcher?”

“Sounds good to me.” I empty my glass, and five minutes later, I find out that Silja didn’t mean a pitcher of beer. It’s a mixed drink that tastes a lot stronger than beer.

Thankfully, Silja doesn’t mention me and Erik again, and eventually, we wrap up. When we pay, I discover that Erik’s multiple dire warnings about expensive Swedish alcohol were mostly over-hyped. My first drink ends up costing around the same as a beer on King Street back home.

Maybe I should move here. I already work remote anyway?—

No. Stop it.

There’s no time for me to be taken aback by my wandering thoughts because Silja motions for me to follow her.

We settle into our seats right as both teams come out onto the ice and skate around, and Silja points at Nils, who’s hyping up Erik with a shaky side hug.

“Look at that bromance,” she says. “Aren’t they cute?”

“Oh yeah.” I fixate on Erik, because of course I do. They haven’t put on their helmets yet, and I get an eyeful of Erik’s flowing blond hair, recently cut into a neat, short style.

How is his hair short and flowing at the same time? That shouldn’t be possible.

“Luke, you’re staring.” Silja takes me out of my head, but I keep my gaze fixed on Erik.

“He’s hot, and I have no self-control,” I mumble. It’s true, even though I shouldn’t be dumping these kinds of unfiltered thoughts onto Silja.

We’re sitting right behind the Alvik bench, and the teams skate in, with Nils and Erik giving us a wave. We wave back, smiling, and then our view gets blocked by a swarm of coaches and admin staff.

I groan. “Come on, get out of the way so I can see him.”

“You really like Erik, don’t you?” Silja says, and I nod.

“Guilty as charged.”

We’re interrupted by a concessions worker taking orders, and Silja talks to him in Swedish.

“I’m getting more drinks,” she explains. “We’re in the reserved area for Alvik guests, so someone helps us to take our orders. Perks of dating an athlete.”

The guy taking orders turns to me and I point to a random beer on the menu before tapping my phone to pay.

“Dating an athlete?” I say to Silja. “That must be nice.”

“It is, but maybe you can experience it for yourself.”

Ha. As if.

Silja finishes her sentence right as the teams skate to center ice, and I wonder if she timed her loaded statement so I’d be too distracted to reply.

Erik and Nils get some ice time in the first period, but neither of them score. Nor does anyone else on the ice. I dart to the washroom, and when I get back to the seats after a tipsy walk, I find Silja browsing the drink menu on the Alvik Rink app right as the second period starts.

“I thought you said that the drinks in here were overpriced,” I say.

She looks up at me before dividing her attention between the game and the menu. “They’re overpriced, sure, but what was that you said earlier about liquid courage?”

I huff out a laugh. “Honestly, I should cool it for now. I’ll end up drunkenly mauling him as soon as I see him after the game.”

Her posture softens. “Aww, that would be so sweet,” she says. “Quadruple shot for Luke?”

“Oh my god.”

Silja’s expression turns serious as she puts her phone down. “Still, if you want to take a break, I won’t force you. Just putting that out there.”

I glance back at the ice right as a coach calls for a line change. Nils and Erik hop the boards, and Nils takes possession of the puck.

“Hold that thought,” I say. “It’s getting good.”

Erik and the other forward, Axel, are close behind Nils as he races toward the goal. Malmo’s defense is scattered, trying to catch up, but they’re too slow.

Nils passes to Erik, who scores.

Silja and I cheer at the top of our lungs, joining the chorus of excited Alvik fans while the team swarms Erik. Even with his helmet in the way, I can see him smiling widely. Warmth settles in my stomach, and it isn’t from the alcohol.

Turning to Silja, I make a decision. “Erik scored and Nils made an assist. I think that calls for a celebration. This one’s on me.”

“Thanks, but I’ll get the next one.”

While scrolling through the drink options, I find a cider that I recognize from back home and order two of them, which we get close to the end of the second period. Silja stares at her can, opens her mouth, closes it, and then opens it again. “Luke. You got the extra strong ones.”

I inspect the can, and even though I can’t read most of the words, I’m pretty sure that 8% means the same thing in every language.

“Erik Norberg, prepare to get mauled,” I joke, taking a sip.

Silja chokes on her drink. “I love how you’re owning this, Luke.”

Still paying attention to the game, I reply without thinking. “Erik can own me .”

Maybe my original plan to act cool around Erik won’t happen. Not that I care.

Unfortunately for Malmo, nobody else scores and the game ends with Alvik winning. Silja and I stay seated, waiting for the crowd to disperse before we head out to meet the team.

“How long does it usually take them to get ready?” I ask Silja.

“Half an hour, so they should be coming soon.”

Sure enough, Nils shows up in a green sweater and black jeans, rushing over to Silja and giving her a hug.

“Is Erik with you?” Silja asks.

“Nah. He got pulled into an interview.”

“Hmm, yeah. Everyone on TV wants to get an eyeful of Erik,” I say. “Not that I’m jealous. We aren’t dating or anything.”

Yup, I’m buzzed alright.

Nils smiles. “But you want to date him.”

Oh shit. I shouldn’t have spilled something like that to Erik’s best friend.

“I didn’t say that,” I reply.

Nils purses his lips and narrows his eyes at me.

Instinctively, I fill the silence. “Okay, fine, I do, but I don’t want to be clingy and ask him to do long distance.”

“Luke, trust me,” Nils says, “all you have to do is flirt with Erik a little, and then he’ll come around. I can’t say much, but I know it’ll work.”

Really? It’ll be that easy?

I nod. “Okay, I’ll try my best. Thanks for the tip, Nils.”

“Any time.”

At that moment, Erik emerges from the locker room. It might be the alcohol messing with me, but that guy is majestic . His hair is well-styled, his skin is glowing, and the team hoodie he’s wearing clings to his muscles like it was tailored.

“Sheesh, Erik is a total snack,” I mumble.

Silja pats me on the back. “Excellent. Now remember what you need to do: get flirty.”

Hell yeah, sounds like a plan.