Page 26 of The Tape Job
“What? How?” she asks, leaning in. She’s wearing Ryan's sweater. It’s huge around her shoulders, and I feel a pang of envy. ‘WAGs’ don’t traditionally wear their guy’s jersey, but I love that Jen just doesn’t give a shit about that and does what she wants. It’s cute. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to be wearing Liam’s.
But I’m saved by the bell, or the lights in this case, as the rink is plunged into darkness and the intro music starts. I get into position. A lucky escape, really, because I don’t think I can relive the moment. Not yet anyway.
I hurry back to the benches where I get a few shots of the guys skating out, glad to have got my timing right despite my inability to think straight. My face burns withembarrassment as Liam skates past, and I thank the stars that it’s dark.
Once the team is out, and the introductions are done, they roll a red carpet out onto the ice. I’m given the thumbs up to rush forward, positioning myself ready to capture the ceremonial puck-drop. I’m used to feeling like all eyes are on me at these moments, but I’m painfully aware that number forty-six is watching me.
Johnny skates forward, along with the opposing captain, and our charity partner representative makes his way onto the ice to present the puck. My brother smiles and poses, making it easy for me to do my job. Mr Opposition—a guy I’ve seen quite a few times before—makes no effort to look remotely happy to be alive, so I do my thing, then back off before taking a few shots of the guys on the blue line. Liam’s eyes meet mine for a split second before he looks away again, then I’m off the ice just in time for the anthem to start.
As soon as the music ends, a dance tune blasts out of the speakers, and the guys do a quick lap before heading to the bench or readying themselves for puck-drop. It’s my signal to rush back to the penalty box side of the ice.
I pause at the boards, and can’t resist zooming in on Liam, capturing him as he prepares for the face-off. The concentration on his face, captured for an eternity, before I take a wider shot of centre ice.
The moment the game starts, I rush back to my laptop, trying to ignore Jen’s eyes boring into the side of my head.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?” she probes, her knee jiggling on the spot.
“There’s not a lot to tell. He wanted to talk, so instead of coming up with anything decent to say, I kissed him.”
Jen opens her mouth at least twice before she says anything, “So are you two—?”
“No. I told him I didn’t want to be friends with him, and I want nothing to do with him,” I admit.
“After you kissed him?” she says, before adding, “Shot on goal, our #12.” She taps it into the browser window and sends it out as an update across the multiple socials.
“Yeah. But it was a mistake. I didn’t mean to kiss him.”
“So you tripped and fell?” Jen laughs.
“Obviously, I—”
“You did it because you wanted to, correct?”
“He doesn’t want me, Jen. He made that clear at Christmas,” I say.
“He does want you; he just doesn’t want to have his heart broken again,” she says.
“Who says I’m going to break his heart again?”
“Well, he doesn’t know that—away shot on goal, #91. He’s trying to protect himself which is why he wants to be friends with you. My guess is that he’d rather be your friend than not have you in his life at all,” she says, her eyes not leaving the ice.
“I can’t be his friend, Jen.”
“Well yeah, so that’s why you’ve told him to keep away?” she asks, and I nod.
Jen drops it there, and we work in silence for a few moments before I’m back on my feet. I capture an action shot of Ryan’s attempt to chip one in past the tendy’s blocker, and a mid-ice check that gets a two-minute interference call, which I spot Jen noting from the corner of my eye.
I’m looking through the viewfinder when a play is made directly in front of me, Liam getting boarded by an opposing forward; his name and number pressing right up against the glass. He pushes the opposition away, which causes a retaliation, and they shove each other back and forth before the opposition shoves Liam hard enough to cause a yard-sale hit, gear flying into the air.
The crowd is loud, shouting and jeering, and it all happens so fast, but Liam’s getting pulled by the shoulders and he throws a punch. He probably hits his target a little firmerthan he expected because he falls forward, bringing his partner with him. They’re both rolling around on the ice, gloves, and helmets idle on the surface, skates in the air. My heart is in my mouth the entire time. I just stand there in complete shock because of all the years I’ve watched Liam play, he’s never been the one to throw a punch. Yeah, he’ll shove and charge or whatever, but never throw a punch.
He gets escorted away by the stripes. Ryan, and Jani Heikkinen, a Finnish forward on Liam’s line, pick up his gear and pass it over as he’s stuffed into the box.
Liam glances around, grabs a water bottle and squirts it over his face; his expression one of fury. What is he thinking? This is probably because of me. As it’s his first game here, too, he’s now given himself a reputation early, setting the expectation that he’s a fighter.
I return to Jen and my laptop, anxiously awaiting the officials’ decision, hoping that she remains quiet.
I can feel Liam’s eyes on me, and I risk a glance in his direction. There’s a mix of emotion in his eyes. He’s pissed off, and I’m now fully convinced that it’s my fault, but I can’t blame him. I crossed a line and made things a lot worse by going against his wishes. But when I think about it, as he stares at me, he kissed me back, didn’t he?
