Page 92 of Becoming Selfish

“Because most everyone in that student section is wearing a number thirteen jersey. And a lot of the rest of the crowd is too.” She points out Eli’s number peppered throughout the stadium.

“Damn. I didn’t realize it was going to be like this. I mean, I heard he was good, but this is wild.” I eye the crowd, spotting Eli’s number repeated over and over.

I’m glad Eli has fans, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intimidated by just how many people love the guy. I knew he was popular, but this is more than I expected.

My phone dings in my lap, and Marc’s name flashes across the screen.

M: Where are you?

L: We just picked a random spot. I couldn’t find you. I can’t believe how packed it is.

M: Crazy, right?

L: Totally. I’ll meet up with you after the game.

The arena lights dim as shrieks and shouts surround us while the red and yellow strobe lights dance across the ice. The music slowly creeps up as the announcer welcomes the crowd. The Northwestern hockey team is on the ice for warmup, but you can only spot them through the darkness when a strobe light flashes over their end of the rink.

“Alright, U of M fans! We’ve been waiting all summer for this! Please welcome your University of Minnesota Golden Gophers!” the announcer booms over the speaker system. The team begins to spill onto the ice while the music and cheers rise in volume.

I keep my eyes peeled for Eli’s jersey. Number thirteen is the last one to leave the player’s tunnel and step onto the ice, and the crowd stirs when he does.

“There he is!” Ali yelps beside me, nudging me as if I hadn’t already spotted him.

He’s pretty hard to miss. I mean, he’s huge. I know he’s a tall guy coming in at 6’4”, but with the added inches from his skates and the bulk from his pads, he looks like a giant compared to most other players on the ice. From what I’ve learned about hockey, someone with his build would most likely be a defenseman, but Eli is a forward. And apparently a pretty damn good one at that.

After the national anthem, the starting five guys of each team line up on the blue line as they’re being announced. The Northwestern fans make a bit of noise, but nothing compared to the howl from the crowd as U of M’s players are introduced.

“Last, but certainly not least. The university’s all-time high scorer, your captain. Ladies and gentlemen, Eli Maddison!” the announcer bellows as the crowd erupts in shrieks and screams. Girls around me are literally squealing as Eli skates forward, gives a quick wave, and returns to the blue line next to his teammates.

This is crazy. I’ve never heard an arena at this noise level. The crowd was loud as the other players were being announced, but it was deafening when Eli’s name was called. Marc was right. He is a local celebrity.

“That’s your boyfriend!” Ali teasingly howls into my ear, trying to rise above the volume of the crowd, as we stand with the rest of the fans and clap for our team and my guy.

“He’s not my boyfriend!” I yell back, trying to get my voice to project enough for her to hear.

She rolls her eyes at me just as she has all week whenever she mentioned that Eli was my boyfriend, and I shut her down. I mean, he’s not, so it would be weird for her to call him that. Eli and I haven’t talked about it yet, and I don’t want to pressure him to make this thing official. I don’t even know if he would want an official girlfriend when he might be leaving for an NHL team soon anyway. I’m confident in where I stand with him, the rest is just a bonus.

He lines up for the opening face-off against one of Northwestern’s players, but Eli towers over him. Eli wins the drop with ease, passing it off to a teammate as he makes his way down the rink. The way Eli moves on those skates is beautiful. He’s graceful and strong as he glides over the ice with ease. When the puck makes his way back to him, I’m shocked at how well he handles it with his stick. It’s like it’s an extension of his body, and when Eli’s first shot ricochets off the goalpost, the crowd stands, gasping in anticipation.

Watching him quickly skate down the rink to get back on defense is nothing short of breathtaking. Despite his size, he’s the fastest guy on the ice, and he moves with more fluidity than any of his teammates or opponents. When he bodies a player in purple into the boards, I wince at the contact, hoping he doesn’t hurt himself out there. He causes a turnover from the Northwestern team, passes it off to one of his linemates, and switches out from his shift.

“Damn,” I say under my breath, unable to find any other word that would help express just how impressed I am right now.

“Shit. Maddison is good,” Ali responds as I keep my eyes glued on number thirteen, watching him take a seat on the bench as his coach pats him on the helmet.

“How turned on are you right now?” Ali teases.

“Extremely,” I admit, my mouth feeling dry.

Eli’s first goal comes towards the end of the first period. Patrick steals the puck from the Northwestern forward and passes it up to Eli. He uses his speed to beat the defenders, then fakes out the goalie by leaning one way before maneuvering the puck to the opposite side of the goal and tucking it into the back of the net with ease.

The eruption of the crowd is mind-blowing as Eli’s teammates charge him with hockey hugs, slamming him into the boards in excitement. While the arena fills with ‘Maddison’ chants, Eli skates past the bench where his team stands, bumping gloves as he goes by. He looks up to the Jumbotron as they replay his goal before the camera pans back to him in the present, and I get to see his face for the first time, which makes me smile from ear to ear. He seems so happy and in his element out there on the ice, but he also looks insanely sexy in that uniform.

“Maddison is so fucking hot,” a girl behind me says to her friend. “It’s happening this year. He’s on my college bucket list.”

Ali turns to gauge my reaction.

I can’t help but let out a laugh as Ali joins in, both of us knowing that for the first time in his college career, Eli Maddison isn’t looking to get with any other girl.

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