Page 42 of The Attack Zone

But the other guy is able to pull away and lands a hit right on Mitch’s nose. I might be wrong, but I think he maybe drew some blood.

Mitch doesn’t seem to mind though, because he launches himself at the guy and suddenly, they’re both on the ground.

“Fuck yeah!” one bar attendee yells.

“Come on, Mitch,” I say under my breath. “Finish him.”

There’s a sea of arms and legs and blood on the ice before the refs blow the whistle and start to pull them apart. Once he’s back up standing, Mitch skates towards the bench as he seems to bask in the boos from the Buffalo fans.

I’ve never been simultaneously terrified and turned on in my life, but I have to imagine that’s what this is, because there’s no other way to describe the complete rush of adrenaline I have running through me. I pull out my phone and try to think of what to text him. I don’t know why but I feel like I want him to know I was cheering him on from afar, which is weird because a week ago I would have hated for him to think I was even watching him play.

Stacey: Holy fuck. That was wild. How’s your nose?

The game clock runs out with far less excitement in the last few minutes and the Blizzards win. Once Mitch and the rest of the team have made their way back to the dressing room, the TV announcer says that they’ll be doing a post-game interview of Mitch.

“I’m outta here,” Cassie says. “I have school early tomorrow.”

“Same,” says Hazel.

“I’m just ...” I pause, looking for a reason to stay and see Mitch’s interview, “... going to finish my drink.”

Cassie waves goodbye as she gathers her things while Hazel gives me a hug and a wink.

A wink. Good lord, I’m going to kill her.

Once they’re both gone, I turn back to the TV. The announcer is talking about Thomas’ potential injuries when they cut to the dressing room.

“Unfortunately, Mitch Greggs isn’t able to join us after all,” the reporter says. “We’re joined instead by Caleb Mack.”

What the hell? What’s going on? Caleb never takes interviews if he can avoid them. Is Mitch okay?

I reach for my phone and pull up my text thread with Mitch. He hasn’t replied.

Do not double-text this man, I tell myself. But what if something’s wrong? What if his nose is broken? Or worse?

Stacey: Are you okay? They said you couldn’t do the interview.

I decide to be a responsible adult for the first time in a while and go home instead of sitting in a bar by myself on a random Thursday night. The bar is just a few blocks from my apartment, so I’m walking through my front door when my phone buzzes.

Mitch: Yeah, I’m okay. Just didn’t feel up for an interview so Caleb covered for me.

Mitch: And my nose is fine, just a bit bloody. Hopefully not too much of a turnoff for you to see me act like a caveman.

Turnoff?

He has no idea the effect that seeing him stand up for his best friend seems to have had on me.

Stacey: I think I’ll be able to get past it.

Mitch: Good.

I sit down on my couch and watch the speech bubble showing that Mitch is typing appear and disappear a few times before another text comes through.

Mitch: It’s cute that you were worried about me.

Cute?

Worried?!

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