Chapter 14 Andrew #6
Once the puck hits the ice, it rarely stops moving.
Watching in person is far different than the game he watched on television while texting Amanda.
The energy is different, watching Nicki, the man whose jersey he wears, dominate the ice feels different.
He’s never been to a professional sports game, and he can begrudgingly admit that Jason was right—professional sports are meant to be watched in person.
When Nicki makes a beautiful goal that has the puck sailing directly past the defense and the goalie to hit the back of the net, Andrew is the first one out of his seat cheering. When it happens a second time ten minutes later, Andrew screams as loud as everyone else.
“Dude,” Steve yells, “your boy is a beast tonight. One more and he’ll get a hat trick.”
“That play was unreal,” Santiago adds once he’s stopped yelling and sat back down. He takes a drink of his beer before tipping back in his chair to look at Andrew. “You must be his lucky charm.”
“I don’t think so,” Andrew protests. “I—” but the rest of his words are cut off when Reuben and Steven start screaming.
Andrew has no idea what’s going on, but apparently someone got too close to their goalie and several players, Nicki included, are making it a team issue.
There’s some shoving and yelling, but it’s quickly broken up by the referees before things escalate enough to require penalties.
Andrew does know that the two teams playing tonight are rivals as they’re both local teams. He might work on the corporate side, but he does know enough to recognize the opposing team.
He wonders if the entire game will be this tense.
“That looks like it hurts,” Andrew remarks moments later, when one of the players, possibly Pavel, slams an opposing player into the boards in an attempt to get the puck. Apparently, there was something off with the hit because there’s a whistle blown and play stopped.
“Probably, but they’re used to it.”
“Do you get used to being hit though?” Andrew muses, finding it hard to look at anyone but Nicki, who is being dragged backwards by Tony in an attempt to deescalate yet another shoving match that had started after the whistle.
After spending a good chunk of his life trying to break up his brothers’ fights or trying to keep the peace, it’s strange to passively watch people fight.
Watching the game now, having met Nicki’s team in person, knowing the personalities behind the numbers, makes it hit differently, and he can’t help but wonder about the motivations.
Do they all fight because it’s expected?
Or do they build up their tension, waiting to release it on game days like Nicki?
Thinking about Nicki has Andrew remembering his bruised knuckles, and the way Nicki seems incapable of handling his own feelings without fighting. So far as he can tell, there is zero reason for Nicki to have joined in this fight, but he was one of the first ones there once it erupted.
If Andrew thinks that fight will be it for the night, he’s sorely mistaken because several smaller fights break out over the next two periods, and each time, Andrew has no clue why.
Apparently just being rivals is enough to have both teams on edge because the fighting seems excessive, even for a hockey game.
Nicki isn’t involved in all of the fights at least. Andrew thinks it is a good thing, and that lasts up until there’s only 6 minutes left in the game.
That’s when all hell seems to break loose.
“Now what the fuck happened?” Andrew asks, shooting to his feet and heading toward the ledge of the booth.
“Not sure,” Mark says beside him. “Didn’t look like anything.”
“Maybe the other player said something Whitmore didn’t like. He’s known for having a bad temper on the ice.”
And off it, Andrew thinks. So far as he can tell, Nicki’s handle on his emotions is par for the course with a deregulated child, or a spoiled man raised by emotionally negligent parents who was never taught to deal with his own emotions.
Nicki could benefit from therapy. Men in general could benefit from therapy really.
Andrew should know. He spent years in therapy during and after college until he’d realized he was autistic, and no amount of therapy or failed medication was going to fix him because there was nothing to fix.
Eventually, he stopped going, but he is very pro therapy for everyone.
“The fuck is Whitmore doing?” Steve yells.
“What?” Andrew asks, diverting his attention back to the ice.
He looks down just in time to see Nicki throwing his gloves and squaring up with an opposing player who also throws his gloves to the ice.
The other guy swiftly knocks Nicki’s helmet off.
Andrew leans so far forward over the edge of the booth that he nearly loses his balance trying to see better.
With Nicki’s helmet off, he’s at a much higher chance for a head or face injury. While a concussion isn’t ideal, Andrew isn’t sure how he’d handle seeing a face injury, especially given how badly they tend to bleed. The prospect amps his anxiety up to a nearly unbearable level.
According to Steve, this whole “scrum” as he called it, is in retaliation for someone hitting Anders, after the whistle blew, after the play was called dead.
Things continue to devolve quickly, and Andrew can hardly keep track of what’s going on with the fists flying.
Nearly everyone else already on the ice gets involved.
Pavel throws himself into the fight with extra force, apparently on a mission to avenge Anders, despite him appearing to be dazed but uninjured.
Eventually, the referees are able to regain control and separate everyone.
A couple of Nicki’s teammates land in the penalty box, including Nicki and Pavel.
A few of the opposing team end up with their own penalties, too, which makes Andrew wonder who threw the first punch.
Maybe it doesn’t matter, considering how many joined in.
Andrew doesn’t care about the penalties laid against other players—he caught roughing and fighting—but he pays enough attention to hear Nicki himself receive a five minute penalty for fighting.
Regardless of who or what started the fight, it’s clear someone thinks he’s a winner because there, plastered across the Jumbotron is the penalty box, especially focused on Nicki, who grabs a water bottle before spitting out a mouthful of blood.
It’s disgusting really, but the smug as shit smirk he sends the camera seconds before looking up directly where Andrew’s private suite is and blowing a kiss is, well—also smug as shit, but kind of sexy, too.
Not the act itself, but the confidence exuded.
This is the Nicki who gets million dollar endorsement deals for things like underwear and cologne because people love to look at him.
To Andrew’s surprise, and horror, Nicki doesn’t stay on the big screen long because seconds later, it’s Andrew’s face that’s plastered across the Jumbotron.
Instinct has him inching backwards to hide, but Mark and Santiago both move behind him, whether to prevent him from leaving or just to get their own faces on camera is unclear.
Andrew’s entire body burns with the sudden attention.
Between the kiss and the jersey there is no doubt who Andrew is here for.
It occurs to Andrew as he stands here, watched by thousands, that this must’ve been what Nicki wanted—for the world to know he was his.
The suite, the jersey, the attention garnering fight on the ice.
Nicki once told Andrew he always got what he wanted, and he’s getting it now.
The world knows Nicholas Whitmore is taken, just like he wanted.
Forcing on a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, Andrew fights down the urge to lock himself in the bathroom and hide.
He forces himself to smile and wave, all while something inside him aches.
He’s doing everything he promised Nicki he would—playing the part of dutiful and socially irreproachable boyfriend.
Things are going exactly like they planned, even if that plan changed and had to be adapted along the way.
Everything is going perfectly. Andrew should be relieved.
This is one step closer to their deal being done.
Except if he’s supposed to be happy, why does it hurt so damn much?