Page 9 of Rewind It Back

He doesn’t answer and my attention immediately darts to his left hand, looking for a wedding ring indent or a change in skin tone from the lack of sun. There’s neither, but my woman’s intuition is on high alert.

This is what I hate about dating, trying to learn as much as possible by not only listening to what they say, but reading between the lines. It’s a whole lot easier when you grow up with the person and innately know their character inside and out.

Brian takes a right onto another block, and it’s the same route I use when going from the design offices to the bar I work at.

“Where are we going to dinner?” I ask.

“It’s a surprise.” His eyes flit to me, a mischievous grin on his lips as he leans back, driving his too-expensive car with one hand. “You look nice tonight, by the way.”

That shy façade is quickly slipping into charming territory.

I return my attention to the passenger window. “Thank you. So do you.”

“Do you like sports?”

“Playing or watching?”

“In this case, watching.”

“Sometimes.” I glance back at him suspiciously. “Why do you ask?”

His smile turns proud, not an ounce of shyness to be found. “Just curious.”

Brian’s speed slows as we edge into a line of traffic, and I watch as the sidewalks fill with pedestrians all moving in the same direction we’re headed. Restaurants and bars along the block are packed with patrons, the excited energy palpable even from inside the car.

Music is blasting from down the street, buildings are illuminated with red-colored lights, Chicago team flags are hung in their windows, and up ahead there are traffic monitors ushering cars into certain lanes and parking lots.

Anxiety prickles my skin. That intuition I was referring to is now buzzing with alarm.

“Brian, why did you ask me to dress warm?”

He chuckles but doesn’t answer. Instead, he rolls down his window to talk to a traffic monitor, and this time when I watch out the passenger side and take a closer look, I realize all those people outside are wearing red, black, and white.

And they’re all headed to the United Center on the next street over.

No. No, no, no. We can’t go there.

“Are we going to the United Center?” I ask, the nerves now evident inmyvoice.

Once again, he doesn’t answer me, smiling smugly as if he expects me to be thoroughly impressed. But I’m not. I’m terrified.

All I can do is pray that tonight is a Devils’ game. Basketball... basketball would be fine.

“My buddy has season tickets and couldn’t make it tonight,” he explains. “Hope you like hockey.”

Fuck my life.

I take a closer look at the crowd swarming the arena. Most are wearing Raptors jerseys.Hisjersey.

My mouth goes dry. “We could’ve walked from the office.”

And I could’ve run in the opposite direction as soon as I realized where we were going.

“I wanted to give you an opportunity to ride in this car.” Brian turns into a private parking lot. “It’s pretty sweet, isn’t it?”

That shy front is long gone. He’s fully smug now.

Brian is speaking to me as we go through the private security and scan our tickets, but I’m not listening. I’d blame it on the rowdy crowd in the halls as soon as we enter the arena, but if I’m being honest, the only thing I can hear is the ringing in my ears.

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