Okay, yes, I get major butterflies for Eric.
For a long time, they were angry butterflies, but they’re different now.
Maybe me being here will mean something. If it wasn’t for Eric, I’d be working tonight at the club, trying to get as many hours as I could to pay off Connor. I may not have wanted a knight in shining armor, but he is one regardless.
The players file off of the ice, and the stadium goes dark. Poppy offers me some popcorn. I take a handful as lights flash and the speakers boom with the announcer.
“Welcome to Hawthorne Arena, Lions family. Today, we bring you a match-up between the Clayton University Thunder and your own Hawthorne Lions! Welcome the Thunder!”
There’s mild applause, but mostly boos as men in red and white jerseys skate out onto the ice.
“Wankers!” Taylor shouts.
“And without further ado . . . here are the Lions!”
The audience erupts into loud cheers. People jump to their feet, some of them wearing a jersey with the number seventeen on it. Of course. There’s an emblem on Eric’s backpack with that number.
I move forward on my seat, trying to spot him.
“。 . . number twelve, Reece Morgan, at left wing . . .”
Reece does a loop and waves to the crowd.
“At center, Roy Donaldson, number six!”
There’s less applause, more like a mumble of confusion.
I frown. Boone is supposed to be the center. He took Z’s place after he left. I do know that much.
“And number seventeen, The Miracle, at right wing, Eric Hansen!”
The applause is deafening. People scream. A couple of girls shout, “I love you, Eric!”
He skates out and does a quick loop, a small wave, and returns to the bench.
“This is the kick-off,” Poppy tells us.
“Face-off,” I correct.
“Whatever. I know he’s holding a stick.”
I pat her on the shoulder. “Gold star for you.”
I strain to see Eric’s face, but it’s impossible with the face mask and how far away our seats are.
Donaldson wins the face-off and passes to Eric. With my heart in my throat, I watch as he takes the puck across the line and shoots. The goalie deflects it.
As one of the Thunder tries to move the puck near our net, Eric slams him into the glass.
Ouch.
I smirk. That’s Eric. Fierce.
My skin prickles in excitement as Eric sails down the ice with a defender chasing him. Reece passes to Eric between two other defenders and Eric stuffs the puck in the corner of the goal.
A buzzer goes off as people jump to their feet, screaming. I join them.
Eric, by contrast, is cool, like he’s scored a thousand goals before. He doesn’t crack a smile, simply glides around the ice without effort while his teammates skate past him bumping gloves. Five other Hawthorne players enter the ice as Eric and his group head to the bench.
“When’s halftime?” Poppy asks.
“I don’t think there is halftime,” I murmur, still watching Eric.
A guy behind us, obviously sick of our inane observations, leans in and says, “It’s three periods, twenty minutes each.”
“Right, then.” Taylor springs up. “I’m getting a pretzel. I can’t possibly wait that long. Want one?”
I wave him off.
The Lions’ goalie is good, and so is the defense, but the offense can’t get the puck out of their zone. After a tense few minutes, the ref blows a whistle.
“That’s two minutes for number twenty-six, for boarding,” the announcer says as one of the Lions heads into a separate bench.
Poppy’s nose wrinkles. “Waterboarding?”
“No, it’s . . .” I stop, unsure.
“Boarding,” the dude behind us enunciates. He’s in his thirties and wears a Lions hat and jersey. He rolls his eyes at Poppy. “He checked a defenseless opponent into the boards.”
“Oh,” Poppy says. “What’s checking?”
The guy snorts. “How about you read a book before you come to a game?”
I glance over my shoulder at him. “We’re new fans. Give us a break.”
I turn back to the game just as the Thunder scores a goal.
The buzzer goes off and our fans let out a collective groan.
“Wankers,” Taylor calls as he returns from the food area. He throws a fist in the air while holding the pretzel in his other hand.
Eric gets back on the ice and into the action, stealing the puck and taking it into Thunder territory.
“Go,” I whisper under my breath. “Shoot it!”