After we load up on food and drinks from the snack bar, Everly leads us to our seats. Grace sits between me and Ev and there’s an empty seat on the end of the aisle. I’m thankful for a quick escape route in case I need to go throw up. I keep telling myself it’s stupid to be nervous. Everly told me a dozen times that Ash has no idea I’m coming and that he’d be too focused on the game to be searching for me. I believe her but my anxiety does not.
We’re about halfway up in the lower section between the net and the team’s bench. Both teams are on the ice warming up. A player I don’t recognize is across the ice, handing a stick over the glass to a fan. The back of his jersey says Sato. He doesn’t take off his shirt or stop to flirt with any unsuspecting women, but nonetheless it transports me right back to the last time I was here.
Everly cranes her neck to see every single player as they stretch or shoot pucks into the net. Grace is looking down at her phone, texting Lane. She told me before we left that she doesn’t really care that much about hockey, she comes for the snacks and to watch Everly get all mouthy and riled up—something, admittedly, I’m also excited to witness.
“Nachos?” Grace offers by inching the plate toward me.
My stomach is in knots. “No thanks.”
With a shrug, she takes another for herself and goes back to texting.
At first, I don’t look for Ash at all. I watch the jumbotron advertisements and chat with Everly and Grace over the loud music pumping into the arena. But the more time that passes without me seeing him, the more paranoid I get. Is he here? Has he spotted me? And most ridiculously, can he feel me here freaking out?
I set two rules for myself tonight （don’t ask about Ash and don’t drool over Ash）， and I broke the first one before warmups were over. Leaning over Grace, I shout at Everly, “Is Ash playing tonight?”
A small smile curves her lips, but she smooths it out and then stands to get a better look at the players on the ice. “I don’t see him.”
Disappointment hits me so unexpectedly that I don’t hide the frown on my face in time and Grace catches it. She doesn’t call me on it, simply offers a solution. “If he’s not playing, he’ll probably watch the game from the press box.”
She points toward the sky boxes. Without binoculars, or staring really hard, it’s impossible to make out the people sitting and standing around for the start of the game. But like any good friends would do, Everly and Grace help me look all around the arena for a missing hockey player.
“I’m sorry, Bridge,” Ev says. She’s started calling me that for short. “I don’t see him. Do you want me to text him?”
“God, no,” I reply. The last thing I want is to draw attention to the fact I’m here or that I’m searching for his whereabouts. I’d never hear the end of it from him, cocky bastard.
The players head to their benches and the pre-game show begins. The arena goes dark, making it impossible to see.
“We’ll keep looking,” Grace reassures me. “He’s here somewhere.”
Everyone gets to their feet to cheer as the announcer on the starters for the Wildcats. A man steps up next to me, standing in front of the vacant seat. He leans over me, throwing his voice to be heard over the noise in the arena, “Who are you looking for?”
He’s wearing a Wildcat hat low over his eyes, but I recognize the low timber of his voice and the way my entire body lights up in his presence. Not to mention the smell of him. Groan. Why is soap and laundry detergent mixed with his cologne the sexiest thing ever?
“Oh my gosh!” Everly squeals when she sees him. “A—”
He puts a finger to his lips.
She ducks her head and lowers her voice a tad. “Hi! We were just looking for you.”
I widen my eyes at her. Sellout. Heat creeps up my neck when a knowing smirk plays over his lips. My roommate reaches over and hugs Ash. Then her smile falls. “I’m sorry.”
His lips press into a straight line as he tips his head. “I should be cleared for Monday.”
Everly moves back to her seat. Ash nods his head in greeting to Grace and then all his attention focuses in on me. I was not prepared. Not the first time when he gave me the puck, or the second when he tried to intervene with Gabe, or at the hospital, over coffee, and certainly not now.
He’s standing so close that we’re nearly touching. I forgot how tall he is. And how good-looking. No, that’s a lie. I didn’t forget that last part. But I had hoped I’d exaggerated it with the time that’s passed. Nope. No such luck. Ash is easily the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.