Page 34 of The Import Slot
Jenna
It’smid-Septemberbythetime the regular season starts and it’s felt like a long time coming. I’m standing at the glass, home side, waiting for the team to start warm-ups.
The music booms over the PA system, pucks are thrown onto the ice and the guys skate on. I don’t see Ryan yet, but Danny and Hutch give me a single nod as they lap around their half of the ice.
It’s a full minute later before Ryan skates on, just after Johnny, both without their helmets. He does a lap, slowing down to a crawl as he skates past me, his smile wide, his eyes fixed on mine. I mouth ‘Good luck’, and he winks before accelerating to the blue line.
“He’s got it bad,” Becca says, stepping beside me. I don’t say anything, my eyes still fixed where he drops to the ice, his left leg out straight while he stretches his groin. “He must have some moves in bed, Jen. You’re crazy.” I glance at Becca, but Ryan catches my eye, his lips curling into a small smile. “Did you see that look he just gave you?” she says. Of course, because I’m weak at the knees and that feeling in my core screams at me.
“Nah, that look wasn’t for me; we’re just friends,” I say dismissively. We’ve been spending a lot of time together, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have feelings for him, but we agreed on being ‘just friends’.
“What’s going on with your job search?” Becca asks, but after telling Ryan and Danny about it yesterday, I’m sick of talking about it.
“Well, I had an interview a few days ago. They’ve offered it to me, but when I had the paperwork through, they asked me to work out of the head office, not the office here in the city,” I say.
“That sucks.”
“Yeah, it’ll mean more commuting; maybe I’d have to think of moving there. Who knows? I’m hoping something else comes up.” I take a breath. “Let’s find our seats.” I motion to the stairs next to our block. Thanks to the tickets Ryan gave us, we’re near the benches.
“My date is meeting us later for drinks and he’s bringing a friend,” Becca says. We’re sitting down now, looking straight ahead, enjoying the warm-up show. I know what this translates to: ‘the friend is for you’.
“I’m not interested,” I say.
“Jen, you’re not pursuing Ryan, so you should crack on with someone else. He’s coming anyway, so see how it goes,” she says. I frown at her, but she’s already on her phone. I dread to think what Danny would say, but by the sound of it, all the guys will be at a party Johnny is throwing, so he may not even find out. Poor Danny. I hope he doesn’t have deep feelings for Becca.
We watch as the Zamboni sweeps the ice after warm-ups, Becca’s focus flicking between the ice and her phone.
My stomach is full of butterflies. The season opener is always exciting and nerve-racking at the same time because it sets a precedent for the rest of the season. I can feel the tension and thrill in the air as the stands fill.
The announcer welcomes the crowd and the lights go out, setting the scene for the projected video that plays on the ice. It’s a collection of clips from last season and contains a mugshot of each player, ending with Johnny. I’m getting anxious now; I always do even if we’re playing the bottom team of the table. Hockey is as predictable as the weather: anything can happen.
Officials are first on the ice, then the away team. The announcer prepares for the home team intros.
They skate onto the ice one by one as their name and number is called, always starting with Parker Fforde, our starting goalie. Ryan’s announcement causes the already loud crowd to become almost deafening. The entire building is vibrating as he steps onto the ice and powers forward, fast on his skates.
The cheers die down as the teams form up on the blue lines for the anthem, which ends in more cheers and banging from the drummers in Block G.
The officials set up for the opening face-off at centre ice. Ryan is starting on left wing with another Canadian, Scott McCoy, on right and Jani at centre.
As soon as they drop the puck, the noise ramps up again as Jani wins the face-off, flicking it straight over to McCoy.
McCoy saucers it over to Ryan before Ryan dumps it in deep around the boards, giving McCoy another drive at it. The opposition tries to intercept before one of their D-men pokes it away, turning it over in their defensive zone.
Everyone applauds when the opposition ices the puck, and the face-off is taken at the left of their net.
When Ryan is back on the ice after a line-change, he marks a guy about the same size as him. There’s chatter and shoulder bumping amongst the players as they wait for the face-off. Just before the puck drops, their #16, who was due to take the face-off, gets kicked out and swapped with the guy Ryan was marking.
It all kicks off between the new forward, their #43, a guy named Matt Rodgers, and Jani. Rodgers shouts something in Jani’s direction before shoving the shaft of his stick into him, knocking him backwards. Jani’s up in a flash though and powers forward, but the whistle has already gone.
“Wonder what that was about?” Becca says as the ref dishes out a few minor penalties.
As soon as the game restarts, we’re on the power play, and when the penalty has sixteen seconds left, we capitalise and score—Scott off Ryan and Bettsy.
By the end of the second period, we’re leading 4-2, and during the fifteen-minute intermission, Becca goes to get some beers.
“Do you want anything?” she asks, standing up. My stomach is still full of butterflies, so I shake my head.
I watch Becca disappear out of view when I spot Vicky’s head near the bench. She’s waving her hand, summoning me over. At least I think she means me.
