10. Lydia
“Ican’t believe you wanted to come back here,” Landon says. “You are entering into the inferno, and not because they’re playing the Flames.”
“Har har,” I reply sarcastically. “He invited me to a game, and I wanted to go. Keep in mind that I could have picked anyone to go with me, and I chose you. A simple thank you would be nice.”
I was pinching myself a little that I was back here for the second time in a month after never watching a live hockey game in my life. The first time, when I was devoid of any Stingrays gear, I stood out like a sore thumb because I wasn’t much of a fan then. Now, I’m wearing a black and teal Stingrays jersey with Griffin’s last name and number sewn onto the back. I wonder if I’ll see the return of the over-hundred-dollar investment I made on a hockey jersey. The good thing is, I feel like I’m fitting in better with the crowd of fans who are also wearing jerseys or other Stingrays gear, Landon begrudgingly included.
He huffs. “Thank you. I’m genuinely curious where we’re sitting.”
“I am, too.” We pick up our tickets at Will Call, and I have to run through the whole shebang of telling the ticket person who I am and show them my driver’s license before they can give us the tickets.
We grab them, contained in an envelope with my name on it, then head up the concourse. I start to feel uncomfortable with all these fans’ eyes turning to stare at us as we walk by.
“Um, Lydia,” Landon whispers. “Why are people staring?”
“Because they recognize us...I think.” I gulp. No one has their cameras open for photos yet, but two pairs of eyes become three, four, ten. No one is ballsy enough to walk up to us, but I know what’s going through their minds.
They’re probably thinking something along the lines of: “Oh my god, that’s the woman that’s dating Griffin Markey. How can she be his type? Well, it seems like he’s into nerds, so that would make sense,” because I’m definitely not on anyone’s hot list.
“Just keep walking,” Landon tells me, and he reaches to put his hand on my shoulder to guide me ahead of him. “Where are we sitting?”
I reach into the envelope and pull out two tickets that read “PL8, Row 1, Seat 1 and 2.”
“Um, hey, Landon?” I ask. “Where’s PL8?”
His eyes widen, and he rips the tickets from my hand. “Hold on, PL8?”
“Yeah, that’s a weird name for a section, right?” I’ve been seeing section numbers that begin in ones and twos but nothing about a section that says PL.
“PL stands for Penthouse Lounge,” Landon says. “It’s like, overlooking the rink from the very top, and there’s a dedicated bar and lounge, and it’s super fancy. It’s basically a suite!”
My jaw drops. We’re sitting in a suite? That sounds so much nicer than sitting in the stands with everyone else.
“Wait, really? So how are we supposed to get there?”
We walk around and finally head up the stairs, where we find the entrance to the Penthouse Lounge. The attendant scans our tickets and leads us inside.
“Holy shit,” I whisper. The lounge is beautiful. There’s a full bar with no line like the ones on the concourse have, with a full spread of food under heat lamps. You can either sit and watch the game on the rink in these plush leather seats, or you can enjoy a drink or bite on a dining table, watching one of the lounge’s many television screens. There are a few people in jerseys hanging by the bar, and they nod at us when we approach it. I order a margarita and Landon opts for a beer. We sit down in our seats, watching the players continue their warm-up.
“Okay,” Landon sighs. “I hate to admit it, but this is really nice.”
“You hate to admit it?” I raise my brow at him.
He groans, slumping into the chair. “Yes, I hate admitting it. I’m not supposed to like your boyfriend.”
“He’s really trying to be nice,” I argue. “It’s not about what he said to me during that Hero Seek game anymore. I’m over it, and you should be too.”
I wasn’t fully over it, not yet. But I thought about what would come of us dating. Would people look at me and think I wasn’t what they were expecting to be dating a celebrity athlete like Griffin? Because I didn’t wear luxurious clothes or jewelry or fit a mold, someone already predestined Griffin’s partner to fit into?
I know that I asked to have attention on me, but I’m not going to change my looks to fit someone’s perfect mold of what they’re expecting from Griffin Markey’s girlfriend.
The warm-ups end, and the lights start flashing in Stingrays colors. The crowd starts cheering when the announcer finishes introducing the opposing team and hypes everyone up ahead of the Stingrays announcement.
When Griffin’s name is called, I jump out of my seat and start cheering. Landon side eyes me but it only fuels me to start cheering louder and wilder. Some people sitting with us turn to stare, but I don’t give a damn on who can see. I only wish that Griffin could see me in the sea of thousands cheering for him. Just so he knows, I’m here to support him as a friend.
The game starts, and Griffin is truly on a roll. He’s kept possession of the puck throughout the game, and he’s attempted to score a bunch of times already. The goalie has saved all of his shots, but by the second period, he finally gets one in.
In the next play, Griffin steals the puck from an opposing player and tries to make a shot but is unsuccessful. As the goalie gathers himself to shoot the puck again, something dramatic happens. The opposing player that Griffin stole the puck from shoves him hard. Griffin gives him a shove back, and immediately things escalate. They’re ripping at each other’s jerseys, and the other player pushes him against the wall.
“Oh my god, what’s happening?!” I gasp. “He’s going to get hurt.”
“Lids,” Landon puts his hand on my wrist. “It’s okay, he’s going to be okay. They’re just fighting. It’s normal in hockey.”
The referee breaks up their fight, and the other player gets put in what seems like a timeout box while Griffin’s teammates check in on him. I sigh when I find out he’s not hurt, but oh my god, that was such a scary feeling.
“Normal?” I shriek. “In what sport is fighting normal?”
He narrows his eyes at me like I’m the one who just said the absolute dumbest thing. “Lids, you’re the Director of Esports gaming, which arguably is all about fighting.”
“That’s different. They’re not really fighting each other. It’s a simulation.”
“Okay, fine,” Landon rolls his eyes. “Well, have you ever watched football?”
I look at him straight-faced. Well, I suppose he got me with that one. “Okay...fair. But I wasn’t expecting it to come so out of the blue like it did just now!”
“Well, yeah, I mean, valid. Hockey is a very contact-heavy sport. You’re pushing people out of the way so you can clear a path for yourself to shoot, right?”
I nod. I guess it does make sense. But I can’t help but feel terror over the idea of someone being on a mission to hurt Griffin. Even with his protective gear on, it must still bruise a little from being pushed against the wall and getting knocked into.
“Okay, I guess you’re right. Sorry, I’m still learning the ropes with everything.”
“Hey.” Landon pats my arm. “You don’t have to feel sorry. You’re still trying to understand the game. Maybe I should have been giving you a run down. That’s my fault too.”
The buzzer sounds off, signaling the end of the period. The Stingrays are tied 1-1, and this is their last chance to make their goals before...what? Is there an overtime?
“What happens if the period ends and they tie? Do they go into overtime?”
“Yeah,” Landon says. “They go into overtime. But it”s different from other sports. If neither team scores in the timeframe of the first overtime period, then they can go into a shootout. And that will determine who wins.”
“God, how stressful.”
“If it gets to that point, yes. But the Stingrays have been holding their own. I think they can score one more goal and prevent the other team from scoring one themselves to win.”
And by sheer luck, or because Landon is a genius, he’s right. The Stingrays end up victorious when Micah shoots a goal with Griffin’s assist.
“You know Micah?” Landon asks after I finish cheering for him by name while the other fans whoop and holler.
“Yeah, I went to Griffin’s house for a games night. I met Ross and Micah and then ended up beating everyone at Monopoly.”
Landon’s eyes go wide. “Wow,” he says. “I, uh, didn’t know he invited you over to his place.”
“Yeah, it was really lax. I mean, his friends were there, and we ate dinner and played games. I brought rice noodles and spare ribs. Everyone seemed to enjoy it. And his friends are really cool. They get together once a week to play a game, and because they have such different tastes, they take turns choosing. They also play trading card games, which is really cool. Griffin told me they’re getting back into Magic and wanted to see if I’m interested in going to buy some packs with him.”
I’ve always wanted to get into trading card games, so I was happy when he asked. I’m simply happy to play games with someone. Nothing to do with any desire to try to impress Griffinto get him to like me or anything. That games night taught me that I can enjoy playing games and keep my feelings strictly platonic. While it was hard when Griffin was standing over me in his kitchen, watching me wash his dishes, I kept thinking about how we have a good friendship, and it would be a mistake to mess that up more than anything.
“Wow, Lids. That’s really cool. I’m...happy for you. He sounds like a chill guy to hang out with.”
“Thanks,” I grin. I’m happy for me too. I’m already starting to feel more confident in what I’m doing and who I’m talking with. Never mind that I have to still raise a lot more money or else I’m out of a job, but Griffin doesn’t need to know that, even if my new relationship with him means that he’s dripping with money to spend on me.
The game ends, and I’ve definitely had more than my typical amount of libations for the night. I start to waddle out of the lounge, waving at everyone I see and cheering, “Stingrays win!” so that everyone has it engrained in their minds.
“Okay, Lids,” Landon grabs a hold of me. “God, when is the last time you’ve had this much to drink?”
I shrug. “Benji’s wedding?” Benji, our cousin, got married six months ago in a lavish wedding at the Hayes Mansion. I definitely took full advantage of the open bar and somehow found myself tearing up the dance floor to everything from the Cupid Shuffle to trying to teach my Yin Yin how to dougie.
“Oh. Yeah, you were having fun at that wedding, if you know what I mean.”
Our mom might have had to shush me one too many times at the dinner table, so yes, I am now realizing what he means, and I’m not the most fond of my behavior.
“Yeah, yeah, Mom wasn’t very enthused with me, but to be fair, I was going through a lot! I had just interviewed for LGU and already freaking out about whether I got the job or not.”
“And you did. Crushing it, if I might add. Speaking of your job, do you need help with the Homecoming showcase?”
I groan. “Fuck, I need to make a list of what I need to get ready for that event. How is it already next week? I feel like I don’t have anything ready.”
Homecoming is LGU’s alumni weekend, where they plan a bunch of programming around all the fun-filled things LGU has going on to, once again, urge alumni to donate. This is the first year that esports will be showcased, and I have been, for lack of a better word, slacking big time on this. I just don’t know what else I can plan. The computer room will be open for alumni to come in and ask about our esports teams, with opportunities to play some of the games as well, if they’d like. I don’t know if that’s going to make them want to donate, but dammit, I have to hope so.
Since there are going to be so many alumni on campus, that is truly my first and last ditch effort to make an impact. Because I’m not relying on Griffin to make a donation and don’t want him to feel forced to either..
“Are you going to ask Griffin if he can come and make an appearance?” Landon asks.
“Pfft, no.” I tell him.
“Why not? Isn’t that the whole reason you two set this shit up in the first place?”
“Shut up!” I put a hand over his mouth. God, if someone hears what we’re talking about right now, my whole cover will be blown. “Don’t talk so loud.”
“There are thousands of people around us,” he gestures. He notices that I’ve turned cold, and a look of worry crosses over my face, so he taps me on the shoulder to calm me down. “Fine, fine. Sorry.” He whispers in my ear, and with my heightened, nay drunken senses, it tingles my ears, and I begin to shiver. “Are you gonna ask him or no?”
“I don’t know!” I admit. “I mean, I should ask him because you’re right. That’s the entire reason that I wanted him to agree to this in the first place. But I was saying that because I wanted to get Jared and the players to start respecting me. It’s a whole other ballpark when you’re talking about alumni and their deep pockets. I can’t force Griffin into that warzone!”
“Why not?” Landon asks. “I’m sure he does a lot of schmoozing in his line of work. He can figure out how to talk to people, so they’ll give you money.”
“Still,” I counter. “It’s next week, and I don’t want what it to take away from his schedule.”
“Suit yourself,” Landon shrugs. “I can’t believe it sounds like I’m on Griffin’s side. But I really think that it doesn’t hurt to ask him. Seems like he’d say yes.”
I slump my shoulders, feeling the cool air kiss my face as I wait for Griffin to come out of the arena to greet us and his fans. Feeling a little bit of the alcohol drain out of me, I sober up and start to feel sad that I’m the one that’s afraid, and it’s hurting me more than helping.
“You’re right. I’ll ask him right now to see what he says.”
“Good,” Landon says. “I’m just going to wait with you until I get to say thank you for the tickets, then I’m waiting for you in the car.”
“Fair. I can’t complain that you’re staying to say thank you.”
“Hey, I can be a gentleman sometimes.”
I watch a hint of softness open up on Griffin’s face as he runs through his routine of saying hi to each of his fans, taking a photograph, signing a puck or a jersey, and not looking so stiff as he was last time. He looks up, meets my eyes for a moment, and waves. I sheepishly wave back, and two girls, maybe around Landon’s age, wearing Stingrays jerseys—ironically, the same ones as mine that boast Griffin’s name and jersey number—turn their attention on me.
“Hi,” One of them says to us. “Are you Lydia?”
Uh oh. I don’t know if I fully prepared myself for what would happen with a fan encounter.
“Yes,” I nod. “I am.”
“Oh my god!” The start jumping up and down, and subsequently, people begin turning their heads, Griffin included.
“Yeah,” I try to force a laugh. “It’s really not a big deal, though.”
“What do you mean?” The other one squeals. “It’s so romantic! Does Griffin support you at your events, too?”
“I...I don’t have anything really coming up...”
“That would be so cute!” God, when did their voices get so high-pitched?
“Is everything okay here?” Griffin asks.
They screech in unison, and I feel like my eardrums are about to burst. “Griffin! We were just telling Lydia how excited we are to see that she supports you at your games!”
“Yeah, you two are such couple goals!”
Griffin chuckles, and he gives me a look that makes me want to melt in place. His hair is slightly wet from the sweat in his helmet, but I like how it looks, knowing that it got like that from all the work he did on the ice.
“Thank you,” he tells them. “Would you mind if I talked to Lydia in private?” He rests his hand on my shoulder, and my breathing picks up from how warm his hands feel.
“Of course, of course!” They tell us. Griffin nods at them in thanks, and he asks security to open the gate so Landon and I can be on the same side as him.
“Oh, go ahead,” Landon says. “I just, uh, wanted to say thanks for the tickets, man. It’s always been my dream to sit in the Penthouse Lounge, so...that was really nice. That’s all. I’m going to wait in the car. No rush, Lids.”
“Hey,” Griffin starts. “Uh, if you want, I can take Lydia home.”
“You sure?” Landon asks. He then looks straight at me. “Are you sure, Lids?”
I’m feeling the after-effects of tequila and wanting Griffin to wrap his big arms around my body.
“That’s okay with me,” I tell him. “I’ll ride home with Griffin.”
“Okay,” Landon nods. “Text me when you get home, alright? And make sure she gets home safe?” He doesn’t look menacing, just genuinely concerned.
“Yeah, of course,” Griffin says. “Lydia will get home safe. That is a promise.”
“Good,” Landon nods. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Lids. You two have a good night.”
“Night,” I wave goodbye.
Griffin looks down at me. “Thanks for coming tonight.”
“You’re welcome. Thanks for inviting us. I had a fun time, even though I barely know the rules.”
“I’m glad.” He smiles. “And hockey isn’t too hard to pick up. Bottom line: shoot the puck into the goal, and the team with the most points wins. There’s other things to be aware of as well...”
“Like fighting?” I butt in. “Yeah, learned about that too.”
“I’m guessing you saw what happened?” he asks.
I nod. “Landon let me know very gently that fighting is a very big part of hockey...as it is with other sports like football, and...football, and...”
“Football?” He laughs, but my face turns grim as I remember him being pushed against the wall andthrown around by the other player. “Wait,” he says, concerned. “Were you worried I was going to get hurt?”
I nod, trying not to let my inebriated state cause my eyes to water.
“Sorry,” I sniffle and use my jersey to wipe off some tears streaking down my face. “I...get emotional sometimes. It’s not a very pretty look, I know.”
“Hey, it’s okay.” He wraps his arms around me, and I’m surprised at first, but once I feel his body pressed up against mine, I return my arms around him. It’s nice. I like the protective layer he gives me. Even if he smells like sweat. “We wear a lot of protection to keep us safe. And I know that anything can happen, but I take extra caution when I’m on the ice so I don’t worry anyone.”
“Okay,” I nod. I trust him. He’s been doing this a long time, and even though anything can happen, he looks out for himself and I just have to let him do that.
“I hope the hug’s okay,” he says. “I’m very sweaty. But it seemed like you needed one.”
“It was very needed, thank you.”
“Hey, just want to be a good friend,” he says.
Yeah. Friend. That’s all we are and all we will remain. It’s better that way.
“Are you doing anything this weekend?” he asks. “I figured we can get lunch. Get to know one another, as friends, of course.”
“Oh, uh. I actually have to work. It’s our Homecoming weekend and it’s this big thing where a bunch of alumni come back to the school. I’m doing an open house in hopes that they’ll donate to fund our program.” Because this is my one shot.
“Nice. Did you...want me to come? I know we were talking about how part of this arrangement is me helping you with work stuff.”
“Yeah,” I reply. “For like, rude and stuck-up coaches who don’t take me seriously. Not alumni with fat checks, that’s too much .”
“No, it isn’t Lydia,” he shakes his head. “Tell me what time, and I’ll be there.”
“Okay.” I croak. “Thank you. I can text you the details.”
Who is this man I’ve been waiting all my life for? And why did it have to be someone who doesn’t want to commit to anything more than a fake relationship with me?