Page 70 of Bombshells
“Don’t jinx us,” his brother grumbles.
“But what happens?”
Paul shrugs, and they both look at Eric. “Overtime,” Eric says. “But let’s not let it come to that.”
Even as he says the words, Philly gets a breakaway past O’Doul.
“Noooo!” Rudy screams. “GET ’EM, ANTON!”
Fiona chuckles from the seat beside me. “Good lungs on that kid.”
And then Anton does what’s necessary. I’m gripping my seat, white-knuckled, as he steps on the gas, burns the skater, and pokes the puck away. Fiona lets out as squeal as Trevi receives the puck and fires it at the upper right corner.
The lamp lights, and I gasp. But the loudest shout is from Eric. “That’s my BOY!” Then he puts his hands together in the prayer position and pins them against his lips. As if he has so much joy that it might just spill out.
Down on the ice, Anton looks momentarily stunned, as if he doesn’t trust his eyes. But the stadium is erupting with glee, and so he spins in a tight circle, a big smile on his face. And Trevi skates by to cuff him in a celebratory back slap.
“Goal to Leo Trevi! Assist by Anton Bayer!” the announcer shouts.
“They said his name!” Rudy hollers.
“Yeah, he gets credit for that assist,” I explain. “A point on his stats.”
“That is awesome. And we saw it.”
“Yes, you did,” I say, and I sound far more invested than I have a right to be. But the more I get to know Anton, the more I like him.
I’m not boyfriend material, he’d said. And then I told him I didn’t care.
Maybe I lied.
* * *
After the game, Eric leaves with the two teens, and I hang back with Fiona and Scarlet.
“Care for a drink?” Fiona says to both of us.
“Sure,” I agree immediately. “The Tavern should be fun tonight, after that win.” Plus, I can stare at Anton like a lovesick creeper.
Maybe I should have picked a different spot.
“I was going to suggest the Tavern,” Scarlet says. “It’s not too far from the subway.”
So, it’s really not my fault that we walk into the place twenty minutes later, right? The Tavern is rocking, just like I predicted. There are several tables full of Bombshells enjoying a night off together.
Fiona and I drift around, saying hi to everyone. And then the Bruisers eventually begin to trickle in, causing a new shout of congratulations every time the door opens to admit a hockey player in a suit.
I watch that door like a hungry dog waiting for its master to return from work. And when Anton’s smiling face finally appears, I feel fireworks go off in my tummy.
The things I did with that man…
“Your tongue is hanging out,” Fiona whispers.
Chastened, I make myself look away.
“I think we need another pitcher of beer,” she says. “And it’s your turn to buy.” She hands me our pitcher and gives me a little shove toward the bar, where I’ll obviously encounter Anton, since his young brothers are perched up there eating wings.
I weave my way through the crowd toward the bar. Anton can’t reach his family yet, since he’s beset by bargoers offering their congratulations.
