Chapter 48
Chapter Forty-Eight
Savannah
Some Friendship
I should have gone home instead of spending hours at the arena, since I don’t have Izzie, but I’m pretty sure I would have convinced myself to stay there, so I find my seat in the stands and write.
Eventually, the guys come on for their warmup, then the Zamboni cleans the ice after them, and I keep on writing. The crowd slowly trickles in, but my section is the last to fill up.
As the season goes on and the Wolves keep winning, I notice more girls dressed in skimpy jerseys, even if I only come to afternoon games.
There is also a constant flow of women occupying the player’s seats, with only a few coming consistently, like Lacey and Mrs. Benson.
Noah’s seats are behind his coach’s, which is perfect, but the ones behind him have had a different girl every time, and today it’s a particular woman who has come to almost every game sitting in a different seat, which I try not to think means she alternates guys after every game, but then I did see her countdown sign.
Liv and Mrs. Benson aren’t here today, but Lacey says hi as she makes her way to Darren’s seats.
She waves in a way I think might mean she’s inviting me to sit with her, but she’s with a group of friends, and I don’t want to intrude, so I look down at my notebook whenever she looks over, so I don’t look too pathetic.
I’m chilly by the end of the first period, so I put on Noah’s sweatshirt, which I’ve been carrying around in my bag for most games.
I keep meaning to give it back to him, I really do, but it’s so warm and soft and comfy.
I could just buy myself one at the bookstore, but then I’d feel weird about it and end up with the generic Wynchester Hockey one, when part of me enjoys wearing Noah’s name on my back after watching so many girls wear mine for my brothers.
The rotating bunny is glaring at me again, in the way she usually does whenever Izzie – and Coach’s wife – aren’t looking.
“Nice sweatshirt,” she tells me with an eyebrow raise.
“Just showing some school spirit,” I say with a little pompom punch, which is mortifying, but the girl just gives me a tight-lipped smile.
“Is she your daughter?”
“What?”
“The girl you come with. Is that why Noah never does more than casual hookups?”
My eyes flare and she makes a show of bringing her hand to cover her mouth like she just revealed something she shouldn’t.
“She’s his sister,” I explain. “I’m just a friend who watches her for him.”
“Don’t insult my intelligence. I may be a puck bunny, but I’m not an idiot.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Tell that to your sweatshirt, sweetie. And unless he’s changed, you’re no different than me.”
Noah plays amazing, with two goals and two assists, but the overall mood is pretty depressing, because we lost a home game 6-5. It was probably the most exciting game I’ve ever seen, but I had no one to ask questions to, or comment on things, which sucked. I hope Iz enjoyed her show.
I kept my notebook out as if I was going to write through the cacophony, but it was too exhilarating once the game started.
Me
Congrats on all those points!
I text Noah after the game, refraining from asking where he’s going tonight, or what he’s doing now.
Lacey is at the main door when I head out. I don’t say anything, but I do look at her, wondering why she isn’t waiting where we normally do.
“Goalies takes forever to come out, and it’s worse after a loss. Like he’s waiting for the rest of the arena to clear out before he can show his face,” she explains.
“That sucks. Especially when they played great.”
“Great isn’t perfect, and an L isn’t a W.” She shrugs, probably repeating something Darren said to her. “Was Tish better company?”
My confusion must show, because she elaborates.
“The woman you talked to during the first intermission. Donovan’s daily deal.”
“It was nothing,” I assure her.
“You look like it’s still something.”
“I just need to return this to Noah. He lent it to me at the arena once, and I keep it in my bag in case Izzie or I get cold, but especially with her not here today, I don’t want to look like a jealous puck bunny.”
“Wearing that guarantees you don’t.”
“Because it’s not a skimpy jersey?”
“Because it’s his.”
“You know that because I just told you.”
“I know because this is the team issued sweatshirt with his name on the back and number on the arm. The ones in the store just have the logo on the front.”
“Oh.” I suddenly feel even more self-conscious than I did before. How many people know stuff like that? Should I?
“Take the jerseys. It’s not the sexiness that matters.
I have the jersey dress that I wear to parties or after the games, I don’t often wear it here because it’s freezing.
But it’s Darren’s official jersey I made the dress with, not the ones you can buy in the gift shop.
That’s how people know who I am. Same as you. ”
“I’m not…we’re just friends.”
I sound like a broken record, and it’s frustrating as all hell to constantly remind myself of that. Yes, we’re friends with benefits, but I have no right to have his number on my back in any official capacity.
“Every time he scored tonight, the first thing he did was find you in the audience and smile. That’s some friendship.”
Noah
Thanks. Wish I’d done more.
See you Tuesday.
I want to believe Lacey. I really do. But unfortunately, I don’t think she knows what she’s talking about.