Page 54 of Shutout
True. Then again, Brooke is my weakness. He’s always been.
“Second,” she continues, “Don’t you find it funny how he can spot you in an arena packed with some three thousand fans?”
That lands like a record scratch. “Uh, it is weird. But I mean, since tonight was gonna be a full house, he did ask for which section we’d be sitting at. But maybe also the ticket counter passes along the info?”
“That all makes sense, which means he cares enough to check.” Folding her arms, she regards me with raised eyebrows. “And otherwise, if the guy can spot you among thousands of people… what do you think it means?”
I speak with a choked voice after stuffing my face with more popcorn. “He has eyes sharper than a hawk’s.”
Mina snorts. “Not at all, because he wouldn’t be able to pick me in the crowd. In fact, he doesn’t even notice me if I’m standing next to you. What I’m saying is that the guy likes you and eventually you’ll end up in his jersey.”
“He doesn’t.” I shake my head. “Listen, Brooke isn’t a shy guy. If he was into me he’d have said so.”
“Didn’t you say he hugged you from behind once like youwere reenacting some K-Drama? Because girl, that would so do me in.”
Nearly did me in, too. I don’t know how I managed to stay upright as he washed my damn hands, which is not something I ever contemplated would get my engine revving.
“The thing is,” I say loudly so she can hear through the noise in the crowd. “He’s always been a touchy-feely, affectionate guy. He’s the male human version of a golden retriever. Always seeking attention and very fluffy.”
She tips her chin down to give me an incredulous look. “You mean to tell me that guy who has an ass of steel is fluffy?”
“His hair is.” Heat creeps up my neck when I remember that nothing else of his seems fluffy, at least going by his abs that look carved in marble. I’m still not over those, either.
“I’m telling you. Before the season even ends, you two are going to be swapping bodily fluids of some kind.”
I punch her in the arm and she cries out in pain because she isn’t made of steel.
But now my whole body’s tingling and heating up, which is cooking me under my coat. I try to focus back on the game and ignoring her, but Mina keeps making random kissy sounds for the rest of the intermission.
Only when the game resumes does she let up. She’s got so into the game and the culture the past two years and change, that she knows the rules probably better than me. And she’s very invested in both the Bolts and the Strikes winning when she’s in attendance. Especially on a certain alternate captain she has her eye on.
The relative quiet from her teasing, welcome as it is, also means I have no other means of distraction but to keep munching on bottomless popcorn, or watching the freaking game. My heart hammers harder as Brooke’s line jumps back on the ice.
The way I view it, there are three types of hockey fans.Casual ones can barely follow the puck with their eyes, that’s how unused to the pace they are. Average fans can follow plays without issue, but the numbers on player’s jerseys are still a bit of a blur and they rely on the screens quite a bit. Super fans could narrate the whole thing not just down to who’s who in the middle of play, but their stats too.
I’m a Brooklyn Tatum super fan. He’s averaging thirty one point eight minutes per game. He’s only two goals away from tying with the top forward in the team. He has middle of the pack penalty minutes, which is a feat considering his line has been dubbed the top penalty killers in Division I men’s hockey this year. And I could spot him in the middle of a brawl.
Which… is this the beginning of one?
I sit closer to the edge of my seat. Two Bulldogs are chirping at Brooke. I’m sure he’s dishing it right back, especially the more aggressive they get. One of the Bulldogs grabs Brooke’s jersey but the refs don’t care because none of them have the puck right now.
“Hey, shouldn’t that be a penalty?” Mina asks.
I’m about to explain when the play heats up. The crowd starts booing as a Bulldog basically carries the puck coast to coast, and it becomes pretty clear to me that what they were doing was trying to distract the Bolts’ best defender. But Brooklyn’s big and powerful. He breaks off their hold to intercept the opposing forward and?—
“No!” I shout, jumping to my feet. I watch through a rain of popcorn how Brooke crashes on the ice. Hard.
“Those assholes!” Mina’s on her feet too. “That was high sticking, refs!” She shrieks with all her lungs.
But then I see my worst nightmare coming true.
There’s blood on the ice. And Brooke’s not getting back on his feet.
My knees knock on the seat in front of me. I catch myself right before I buckle down. Mina’s arms are suddenly aroundme and she’s saying something. I can’t hear her over the roaring in my ears. My harsh breathing. A weird whistling that doesn’t stop.
“It’s good, he’s sitting up. Look.”
Signs of life from him penetrate the fog even more than her words. Brooke pushes onto all fours. The arena’s gone completely quiet as he sits back on his haunches and sheds his gloves. All I can see is the giant 3 number at his back, so I don’t know how bad he’s hurt. Or where.
