He can’t. Not with two men on him, blocking the goal. He skates to the left, faking to the right, then breaks free of the defensemen and skates toward the goal.
A Thunder player darts in, steals the puck, and skates down the ice. He’s shockingly fast and easily shoots the puck between the goalie’s legs.
The buzzer goes off.
Eric returns to the bench, spits out his mouthguard, and pulls off his helmet. His hair is soaked with sweat, his face expressionless.
“That was painful.” Poppy buries her face in her hands. “I don’t even know what’s going on, but it’s terrible. I’m stressed!”
“Welcome to the world of hockey,” the guy behind us chimes in.
It only gets worse. By the end of the second period, they’re down 4-1, and they don’t get it back after the intermission. Eric starts making mistakes, ramming his opponent into the boards and trash-talking. When a Thunder defenseman hits him, he shoves him and they scuffle. When the ref breaks it up, he argues with the ref.
The final score is 5 to 1.
He’s first off the ice and heads for the locker room without looking up at the fans that line the aisle.
“He was still brilliant,” Taylor says. “You think he’d want to go out to dinner with us? Drown his sorrows in some terrible bar food?”
“I can ask,” I say.
We’d planned on going to the Tipsy Moose since it’s within walking distance. Poppy has already offered to buy me dinner since I bought the tickets for the game. Eric had offered me tickets, but I wanted to surprise him tonight.
We step out of the arena and into the lobby and ask one of the ushers for directions to the locker rooms. Once we get there, we wait behind a roped off area with a security guard as the players exit, showered and sullen.
My gut twists at the girls I see, several with Eric’s number on their shirts.
Poppy sniffs. “This hallway smells like a perfume shop.”
“Hmm,” I say as one of the girls pops out her mirror and reapplies her lipstick.
It was stupid to think he needed me. Yes, he might have invited me, but that didn’t mean he was desperate for a cheering squad. Win or lose, everyone loves him. He just wanted me to come because I’d never seen a game.
It’s not like we’re a real thing.
Doubts creep in.
Wouldn’t he rather hang out with one of these girls? Or his hockey buddies?
“You know, maybe we should go . . .” I stop when Taylor nudges me.
The hall has erupted into high-pitched, girlish shrieks of excitement as Eric comes out of the locker room. Wearing slacks and a collared shirt, his hair is wet and slicked back. His cheekbones are stark under the lights, his eyes hooded.
He doesn’t crack a smile.
“Eric! Marry me,” comes from a random woman who has a baby on her hip. She looks to be in her late twenties. Obviously, it’s not just college girls he attracts. He stops, takes the sharpie she’s holding, and signs her shirt.
A television station camera crew steps in front of us and muscles their way in. “Eric! Tell us what went wrong tonight.”
A microphone is shoved into his face, but he takes it in stride. “We were off. It happens. We had to make a change with O’Brien being out due to a last-minute injury. We made a lot of mental errors and lacked intensity. It’s not something we mean to repeat. That’s all I have to say.”
He shoves past them and they scatter.
More women flock around him, and he goes through, almost mechanically, signing and nodding. It’s only when the crowd thins that he looks over their heads and catches sight of me.
I wave and smile.
He freezes for a moment, then makes a beeline to me.
He stops in front of me, a blank look in his eyes.
“Sorry for the loss, Eric,” Taylor says in a commiserating tone.
Distracted, Eric glances at him. “Yeah, it was awful.”
He turns to me, his voice strained and tight. “What are you doing here?”
“I just thought I’d come and—”
“I looked like shit out there.”
“No, you didn’t. I was impressed,” I say quietly.
“It doesn’t take much, then,” he snaps.
Walls slam up around my heart. My gaze narrows. “We were just going to the Tipsy Moose. I thought you might want to come with us.” Since your parents didn’t come.
He glances around at the crowd. “I just had the worst game of my college career. The last thing I want to do is hang out. I have things to take care of.”