Page 77 of Goaltender Interference

“Aino is—ah—kind of aggressively nice. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

“It’s fine, Matt. Let’s, uh—talk about something else, eh?”

Matt somehow managed to hold it in, but his eyes danced. “I’m sorry, I’m just picturing you in there. They’re going to eat youalive, baby.”

“Nothelping,” Aiden groaned, and hung up. He’d call back in a minute, once Matt had gotten it out of his system. Aiden sighed again. These were not the problems he’d expected to have back in June.

Aiden texted Aino Saarinen to tell her that he could come to any of the games within the next week. It seemed better to rip the Band-Aid off and get it over with.

Great! How about the Cons game on Tuesday?

Sure.

Perfect!

“You really don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” Matt attempted to reassure him, on their next call.

“It’s fine. Really.”

Tuesday rolled around, Matt left for the rink and Aiden spent the rest of his time staring at his phone, half-hoping that Aino would tell him she couldn’t make it, for whatever reason.

It was weird dressing for hockey games, now—he never had to think about it before. He couldn’t really wear his own jerseys there, and he couldn’t wear Matt’s jersey in public without making more of a statement than he was really comfortable making while he still felt the future dropping like pebbles off the edge of a cliff as his toes tried to grab purchase. A suit was too formal when he wasn’t even playing or sitting in the press box.

He usually ended up settling for one of ten Libs hoodies he had brought with him and the kind of joggers that cost more than he ever would have felt comfortable paying as a rookie.

Then he had no more excuses, and it was time to drive to l’Arène. It was a building where, even though it was relatively new in the grand scheme of things, you could feel the history and weight of it as soon as you approached. It didn’t hurt that all of the Royal legends were represented in statues outside, their metal faces stoic and determined, a reminder of just how many giants had carried this team over the years. He felt a little self-conscious walking through the crowd of people streaming in the doors, like they probably would know or recognize him. No one stopped him, though, and some of the tightness in his chest faded.

Aino waited for him in the lobby. He knew it was her because she was holding a sign, like she was in an airport or something, that saidCAMPBELLsurrounded by hearts in the Royal’s blue, white and red. She was a small woman, probably only five feet and six inches even in the towering heeled boots she wore, with a mane of ashy blonde hair flowing loose over her shoulders and framing a freckled face that could only be described as elfin. She beamed at him, and he realized his earlier mental image of her—the smiling emoji—wasn’t entirely far off. It took up her whole face.

“Aiden! Welcome to l’Arène!”

“Aino?” It turned out the caution was unnecessary, because she immediately threw her arms around his waist in a hug. Aiden patted her on the back, awkward. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Lovely to meet you, too,” she said, released him and winked. “Aatos says you have a very nice voice; I’m sorry I missed karaoke night.”

“He’s, uh, being generous.”

“I’m sure he wasn’t! Well, come on up! Everyone is mostly here already, so I can introduce you!”

Aiden followed her down the halls to the elevator or, more accurately, allowed her to lead him, since she had hooked her elbow casually through his, like they were old friends who had reunited after years apart rather than relative strangers.

She didn’t stop talking the entire way: she jumped from topic to topic, from things she loved about Montreal, to things the other women loved about Montreal and that she was sure he would also love about Montreal, to asking him about his own last season. She was cheerful enough that he found himself answering, even though he hated talking about it.

Sometimes, for special occasions, the WAGs might reserve a box. But Aiden knew that most of them usually sat in the stands, with a row of seats reserved so they could all hang out and talk. Even without the pressure of being in an enclosed box area, he wanted to run as soon as they all turned their eerily similar faces to look at him, like the moment before they’d start speaking in tongues, or levitating, or climbing up the walls with their heads at the wrong angle.

It was unfair of him. He was sure they were all perfectly nice.

Aino pulled him forward by the arm, surprisingly strong for such a tiny person, as they awkwardly squeezed their way around the other WAGs, who were all standing as they went. “This is Maddy and Mia and Maya and Avery and Daria and Chloe and Sophia—”

Most of them were tall and slim and white, with blonde hair, natural or dyed, and they were all wearing very similar clothes, the kind of casual look that spoke of way more effort than they ever would have admitted to. He shook hands awkwardly as he went, before he finally got to sit down in the seat they had reserved for him.

“We’re so happy you came,” Aino was saying, “definitely make yourself at home, we’ll probably go and get food during the intermissions, and Aatos did tell me you don’t eat dairy, so there will be something for you—”

“Thank you,” Aiden cut in hastily, a little overwhelmed. He took ten deep breaths, and then ten more, and then ten more.

“Hey,” Saari had asked, as they were getting ready to head out for warm-ups. “By the way, Aino asked me if you want me to add Campbell to the group chat. He never gave her a clear answer.”

Matt had exhaled. The WAG group chat was one of those constants of hockey life, the kind of thing that you always knew was going on in the background, but usually tried to stay out of. It had its own rules and customs and histories. It was basically the same no matter where you were playing: there was one WAG in charge, usually the captain’s wife, and you needed approval from the player before she’d add you to all the official shit. If Aino had asked, that was as good as saying that she wanted to know if things wereofficial. And that, at least from the women, was an endorsement.

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