8. Stevie
eight
stevie
IT’S BEEN FOUR days since I’ve seen Hunter.
Tonight is his game against University of Greenwood and Becca is insisting we attend.
I’m desperate to see him again but also terrified of the power he already has over me in such a short amount of time.
I melted into a puddle in his arms on Monday and it was after he’d accused me of flirting with that guy at the bar.
Something is seriously wrong with me that his anger and hostility turned me on so much.
I probably would’ve dropped down on my knees and sucked him off right there in the bar parking lot if he’d asked me.
But he’d just kissed my forehead and left me without looking back.
I didn’t know what to think. After collecting myself and smoothing my hair, I’d returned to the bar and found Becca.
She had heard about the near fight that had broken out between Hunter and the other team, but she hadn’t known I’d been a part of it. I didn’t tell her.
I’ve wanted to text Hunter every day this week, but every time I’ve opened the messages app, I’ve immediately closed it again. Maybe it’s better to just stay away from him.
Becca knocks on my bedroom door and pokes her head in, “You ready?”
“For what?”
“’For what?’” she repeats mockingly. “For the game, silly. Come on. Get dressed, we’re going.”
I groan. “Do we have to?”
“Um, yes. I wanna see some hot men on ice. My life is boring enough as it is, I need some excitement.”
I close the book I’ve been reading and get up as Becca rummages in my closet. “I wish we were both dating hockey players and could wear their jerseys,” she says.
Her words send a thrill through me. To wear your boyfriend’s jersey, letting everyone know that you’re his and he’s yours – it’s enthralling. An image of me in Hunter’s jersey immediately pops into my brain and I suppress a shiver. Hot.
“Maybe one day we will be,” I say, throwing all thoughts of staying away from Hunter out of my mind.
“I think you mean maybe one day you will be.” She gives me a look. “I, on the other hand, am far less likely.”
“You never know.”
“I won’t hold my breath.” She pulls a baby blue sweater out of my closet. “This is cute. You should wear this. With some tight jeans.”
I smile. “Are you trying to make sure I look good?”
“Yes, duh. I need at least one of us to snag herself a hockey god. Put it on, I wanna see how it looks.”
I do as I’m told, pulling the sweater on over my t-shirt. “What are you gonna wear?”
“If it wasn’t so cold inside the hockey rink, I’d wear something ridiculous like a tube top, but I think I’ll wear this off-shoulder white sweater that I have.”
“How cold is it in the rink?”
“You’ve never been to a hockey game before? It’s freezing in there.”
“I guess that makes sense.” Arranging my hair over my sweater, I turn to look at myself in the mirror. I look cute. “Can the players see us from the ice?”
Becca smirks. “Gee, I wonder why you asked that.”
I stick my tongue out at her. “Shut up.”
“Someone wants to look good for Hunter,” she teases in a sing-song voice.
“What about you? Do you like any of the players?”
“I’ve had a thing for Jamie West since the moment I saw him.”
“Isn’t that one of Hunter’s friends?”
Becca sits down on my bed and crosses her legs. “Yup. One of the hockey gods. He’s crazy talented. I only really got into hockey after watching him once. You’ll see how well he plays tonight.”
I’m not so excited about the game. But I’m beyond excited to see Hunter again.
He’s all I can think about lately. And as much as it embarrasses me to admit, I love how he makes me feel when he touches me, and the way my blood fizzes in my veins when he talks dirty to me.
On Monday, when he kissed me hard and pulled my hair, demanding I submit to him, my knees went completely weak and my heart was ready to pound out of my chest.
It’s gotta be dangerous to have such a reaction. And, worse, to actually enjoy it.
“I’m gonna put on some makeup, and then I’ll be ready,” I tell Becca.
She hops off my bed. “Cool. I’ll do the same. See you in a bit.”
THE UNIVERSITY OF GREENWOOD arena is cold, and very, very crowded.
Butterflies swarm my belly as I tighten my jacket around me.
The moment Hunter skates out on the ice, I’m gonna be a mess.
Becca leads me to our seats in the student section.
Her jacket is draped over her shoulders, and she looks so pretty with her dark brown hair in soft, face-framing layers around her face.
Her brown eyes sparkle. The entire arena is buzzing with energy, and it’s contagious.
I don’t know the first thing about hockey, but I’m suddenly very invested in this game.
“When will the players show up?” I ask Becca.
“Any minute now,” she says, bouncing in her seat.
A few minutes later, a roar goes up as the Ravens players shoot onto the ice.
Their colors are black and purple, and they look like an army.
My heart is in my throat and I’m holding my breath, my eyes immediately finding Hunter and unwilling to let go.
Becca clutches my sleeve. “There’s Jamie,” she points out, squealing. “I love him in his pads.”
The Greenwood colors are orange and white. Their side roars just as loudly when they hit the ice, while our side boos. There’s a blur of motion as the game starts, and it never seems to relent. Since I have no idea what’s going on, I just cheer when everyone else cheers.
The game is tied at intermission, 1-1.
Becca and I go get drinks and snacks, Becca chattering about the game and saying things I don’t really understand while we wait in line to order.
“Greenwood has a great offense. Axel Bauer is one of the best shooters in the league. I think he’s currently number three in the rankings, if I’m not mistaken.”
“How do you know all this stuff?”
“The internet.”
When I give her a confused look, she adds, “I Google player stats when I’m bored.”
“Perfectly normal thing to do.”
“Shut up,” she says, laughing.
The second period starts as soon as we take our seats, and the energy has definitely shifted. Maybe it’s because they’re tied, but the two teams seem especially bloodthirsty and aggressive now. And the crowd is only egging them on.
“Boy,” I say. “Hockey is really violent.”
Becca cackles. “I love that you’re only catching on now.”
I always knew hockey was a violent sport but seeing it in front of my eyes is a totally different experience. I jump every time a player is thrown against the plexiglass partition that runs around the rink.
“Are they really allowed to do that?” I ask Becca after a particularly vicious throw.
“Yes and no,” she says. “If it’s really bad, they get a penalty for roughing and have to sit in the penalty box for two or sometimes five minutes.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, and while they’re sitting there, their team is down one player and the other team has the advantage. It’s called a power play.”
“I see.”
Becca grins. “Before you know it, you’re gonna know hockey like the back of your hand.”
I’m not sure that’s true. The game moves impossibly fast. Half the time I don’t even know where the puck is. I rely on the crowd’s reactions to let me know what’s going on.
“Ooh, Hunter and Axel are going at it,” Becca says, her eyes wide.
I look to where she’s pointing. Hunter and a Greenwood player clash with their hockey sticks, and Hunter takes off suddenly.
“He’s got the puck!” Becca screams. “He’s gonna score.
” She jumps to her feet and I follow suit.
Hunter is racing down the ice, but that same Greenwood player is right behind him Becca starts jumping up and down as Hunter gets closer and closer to the goal.
It feels like everyone in the stands is holding their breath and then a huge cheer erupts.
“Did he score?” I ask, feeling dumb.
Becca is screaming her head off, so I start screaming along with her.
Hunter lifts his hockey stick in the air as his teammates rush to congratulate him.
But if I thought the game was violent before, it reaches a new level of aggression after Hunter’s goal.
Several players from both teams end up in the penalty box a few times.
Both coaches are red in the face yelling at their players, and both team’s fans only seem to be getting rowdier and rowdier.
At one point, I press my hands to my ears, trying to block out all the noise.
“Overstimulated?” Becca asks, and I nod. “You’ll get used to it.”
Near the end of the game, when there’s only a couple of minutes left, Hunter gets thrown into the boards by the same Greenwood player who’s been on him the whole game. Becca says it’s Axel Bauer, and that they’ve been huge rivals for years.
I nod, realizing it’s got to be the same guy from the bar a few nights ago.
My whole body is tense as Hunter and Axel square off on the ice, circling each other, but just when I think they will lunge and start punching, the buzzer goes off.
“Game over,” Becca says. “We won!”
The final score is 3-2, and as the crowd cheers, I finally relax my muscles and exhale. That was intense. I’m relieved it’s over.
“After party,” Becca squeals. “Let’s go home and change into sexy dresses.”
“Wait, what?” I ask as she grabs my hand and pulls me toward the exits.
“The team usually parties at Madness after a big win. We should go.”
“I have a bunch of homework to finish for Monday,” I protest, though it sounds weak even to my own ears.
“Oh, who cares,” she says. “You’ll be fine, Miss Straight-A Student.”
I don’t offer any more protests, because, yes, of course, I want to go and see Hunter. It would be rude not to congratulate him on his win. Right?