Page 26 of My Virgin Puck

“Oh no!” I flap a hand and smile. “I’m just with Mason Miller.”

The security guard chuckles and shakes his head. “No way. Coach Best would have you for dinner if I let you in there. Where’s your seat, Miss? I’ll show you the way.”

My heart sinks and I feel like I’ve been whacked in the gut by a Toronto hockey stick. Every free moment I got in the gift shop I was waiting for this moment. The moment I get to hold him and look him in those gorgeous eyes of his and wish him luck with a deep, hot kiss.

I could just send him a message. But he hasn’t written back to any of my other texts, so really, what’s the point?

“Come on,” the guard pulls me by my jacket. “I need you to leave to Red Zone.”

I follow the instructions, defeatedly parading up to the corporate box where I find a seat beside Judy and the girls from the office. The stadium is nearly at capacity and when I look up at the Megatron the countdown is down to ten minutes.

“Oh! Here she is!” Judy says, tapping the seat beside her.

“We thought you were going to miss the game!” Lisa says, smiling from the seat one over from me. “We can’t wait to see Mason waving up here again!”

I smile and stare down at the ice. My stomach starts to roll over.

Mason had a terrible game yesterday. I don’t know too much about hockey, but every time I saw him make a pass, the Coach in the dugout was screaming his face off.

Today can only be better, so when the announcer begins naming the team starting on the ice, I move to the edge of my seat.

“Noah Edwards!” An enormous cheer nearly shakes the Megatron from it’s braces.

“Miles Johnson! Parker Phillips!”

The red jerseys of the Vikings roll out on the ice, each player holding their sticks up as they’re introduced. Shortly, all six players in red are warming up, skating around the ice with stern expressions and stiffened shoulders.

The Toronto team skate on the ice as a group. Deafening boos and abusive taunts are hurled their way. Their blue jerseys look out of place in a sea of red and their players just stare down at the ice, concentration eclipsing anything the Viking’s fans try to do to put them off their game.

Taking it all in, my eyes linger towards the bench.

Mason isn’t there.

Where the hell is he?

My face drops. I feel the jolting bounce in my seat from Judy who’s clapping wildly beside me. Lisa and Penny are both whistling with their fingers in the mouths, squealing loudly every time one of the players waves in their direction.

The stadium is erupting. As the excitement is about to boil over, the referee pierces a loud whistle, and the game starts.

The Vikings take control quickly and it’s a completely different game to yesterday.

I don’t care.

Where the fuck is Mason?

My face begins to flush. My throat is suddenly tight and my mouth dry.

“GOAL! VIKINGS!”

I’ve sent a dozen text messages – all without reply. I figured he was busy with the team, that’s what he told me. He would be busy.

I hope he’s ok. Maybe something has happened? Maybe he’s hurt? Injured?

“GOAL! VIKINGS!”

No. The team would have let me know.

“GOAL! VIKINGS!”

---