28. Astrid
Ilay out the jersey Heather gave me at the start of the season. Daniels, Number 4. I run my good hand over the embroidered stitching. A thrill of excitement runs through me. I’ve worn his jersey before, but never at home during the actual season.
And never as his… whatever I am.
I wonder if I’ll ever get used to this feeling. It doesn’t seem possible. I can’t imagine anyone getting used to showing up to support their boyfriend. Imagine in high school, finally getting to wear you boyfriends letterman’s jacket, or his jersey around school. The way that felt so… special. This is just like that, except times a million.
Even if I did somehow get used to being a part of Sean’s world, I don’t think I could ever get bored watching him play. It’s my favorite part of my week.
The kids are with Tanner’s brother as the babysitter for the night, and Heather is driving separately, so I head out to the arena alone. I turn up the heat in my car. It has started to really get cold outside now that we’re well into fall. The rain starts to turn to snow as it hits my windshield.
I wonder what Sean thinks of me wearing his jersey and cheering his name. Does it feel differently now, that I’m no longer just a fan? Or is this all just a normal day at work for him?
I find my seat quickly, spotting Heather’s red hair from rows away. We’re right on the glass. The arena is packed tonight. We’re playing a good team. Sean seemed a little more on edge than usual before he left this morning.
We always sit with the other players’ families, and I’m surprised to see that Heather beat me here. She wraps me in a hug. “How’d Sean seem today?” she asks.
“He was quiet…” It’s the truth. Sometimes it’s hard to tell what kind of quiet he is exactly. But quiet isn’t always bad with him.
“How quiet? More than usual?” She takes a bite of a pretzel she must have bought from the concession stand.
“Mmm. I think normal quiet, but with a tinge of nerves.” I steal a piece of pretzel from her. “Cheese,” I demand, gesturing with my hand.
Heather rolls her eyes, handing over the small plastic container.
“He cleans a lot when he’s nervous. And he definitely straightened up the living room too many times to be normal,” I say between mouthfuls of pretzel. “This is good.”
“Yeah, my pretzel is good. My pretzel,” she stresses, snatching back the cheese.
“How’s living with him going?”
“Ugh.” I run a hand through my hair, considering honesty. “You really want to know?”
“No, lie to me.” She rolls her eyes.
“We kissed.” The words just spill out in a panic. I cover my mouth with my hand the moment they’re out, worried that I sound insane.
Heather drops the popcorn on the ground, luckily none spilling. “What did you just say?” Her eyebrows raise into her hairline.
“We kissed,” I admit, hanging my head. Oh my god, I do sound dumb. I’m a cliché. I’ve fallen for my boss and kissed him. It’s so embarrassing to admit, even to Heather.
“Yeah, I heard that part,” she laughs.
I might as well be brutally honest. “And I had sex with him,” I blurt out quickly. It’s like ripping off a band aid that was on too long, and stings just as much. I sink into the sticky seat, confused and somehow feeling more determined than ever.
Now that it’s out in the open, it’s no longer something I’ve made up in my head. I did have sex with him. And regardless of what that means for us, it did happen.
Heather blinks at me, as if momentarily stunned. She takes a breath, recomposing herself. “Well? Come on. Give me the details. Was it good sex?”
“It was the best sex I’ve ever had.” I hang my head in my hands. A small part of me thought that maybe, just maybe, if I slept with him and got him out of my system, I wouldn’t want him so badly.
Clearly the dumbest idea I’ve ever had. All it’s done is make me want to have sex with him more.
“And how big is he?” she grins. “Come on, you can tell me.” She rests her chin on her hands, her elbows resting on her thighs. “Tell me everything.” She flutters her lashes at me.
She’s not judging me. Relief washes over me. She doesn’t think that I’m stupid.
“He’s huge.” I laugh. I can’t believe I’m saying this out loud. I feel my cheeks heat.
“Ahhhh,” she squeals, clapping, particularly bouncing in her seat. “I knew it. I knew it.”
“No, like huge.” I make a gesture with my hands, and she slaps my arm as her jaw drops.
“Damn.”
“I know,” I groan. “And he made me come twice.”
“Yes, we love that.” She taps my hands excitedly with hers. “I mean, after your ex, the bar is kind of low on what constitutes as good sex, but…”
I roll my eyes, which makes her laugh.
“Soo….” She grins at me.
“So what?” I don’t like the look on her face.
“Do you like him?” She sounds so hopeful and excited. There’s just something about Heather that brings out emotions I didn’t even know existed. Had anyone else asked me this question, I would blow it off. But Heather wouldn’t accept that anyways.
“I think that I do,” I admit, tentatively. It’s the first time I’ve said the words out loud. Up until this moment I’ve just been shoving them down, deep inside of me hoping that if I didn’t look at them, they might go away.
My feelings are so complex. He’s complex. More than I ever anticipated. I don’t know what that means for us going forward, but it’s nice to not have to navigate these thoughts alone.
“Oohhh. Maybe he’s your soulmate,” she teases, bumping into me.
I love Heather, but she’s a hopeless romantic, and not exactly the most reasonable one of us. I groan. Soulmate. Once she’s said the words, I can’t take them away. He feels like my soulmate. Is that crazy? Too soon?
Oh god. How did I get myself into this position?
“What are you going to do?” she asks, staring at me like I’m the most interesting thing in the world.
“I don’t know yet. Maybe nothing at all… I don’t want to make a big deal out of everything if it’s just a one-time thing. Okay, I guess two-time hookup. But still…”
“Two times?” she squeaks, her eyes going wide.
“Yeah… I guess I didn’t mention that, huh. You remember my birthday?” I tap my fingers anxiously against my leg.
“Uh huh.”
“Yeah well, we had sex that night.”
“I knew it. I knew it.” I’ve never seen her so happy before. “Astrid!” She squeals. “This is so exciting.”
“I know, I know. You have no idea. It was so freaking romantic and perfect... I hate to even say this out loud, but it was like something out of a fairytale.”
That makes Heather roll her eyes. “I don’t know what kind of fairytales you’re reading.”
I laugh, so deeply grateful that she’s here with me right now.
“So when are you going to make it happen again?”
“Yeah, about that....” I let my words trail off as I think. I’d like it to happen again, and again… and again. “I don’t know. I wasn’t planning on it going past a kiss. I’m not really working with a plan here.” And to make matters more complicated, we live together.
“Well, it sounds serious to me.” Heather looks at me like I have two heads. “I think this is exactly the type of thing Tanner would want to know. In fact,” she gets out her phone, a grin spreading across her face. “I think I’ll text him right now.”
I launch myself across her body to grab her phone from her hands, knocking over the popcorn and causing several people nearby to stare at us. “Don’t you dare.”
“Too late.” She snatches her phone back. “I’m already typing. You can’t stop me.”
“I swear to God, Heather. If you send that text…”
She just smirks at me but slips her phone back in her pocket. “So, you do like living with him.” She wiggles her eyebrows, telling me that living is a euphuism. “And you’re planning on making it official?”
I try to hide the creeping heat that I’m sure colors my cheeks, but Heather doesn’t back down.
“Because I think you should make it official, that way when you plan your wedding you remember this moment and thank me for helping you find the love of your life and allow me to choose my maid of honor dress.”
I groan. “We are not having this discussion.”
Heather laughs. “Unless you two are already….”
“What, official? I don’t know.” I shrug as the lights black out and then flash on with the pregame theatrics. “Do people still ask someone to be their boyfriend at our age?” I have to ask a little louder now that the music is in full force.
I don’t miss the curious look from the coach’s wife.
I sink a little in my seat. Oh no, I groan. The last thing I want is for more people to be involved in my love life. I don’t want or need the attention.
“I don’t know if they do, but I think you should.” She emphasizes the word you.
Thankfully the arena lights flash and the music blasts, preparing the crowd for the game to start, and to give me a little bit of a reprieve. A much-needed reprieve.
As Sean takes the ice, my heart flutters. I love to watch him skate. God, who am I kidding, I just love to watch him. His broad shoulders. His muscles, which I may not be able to see beneath all that equipment, but I know is there. Sometimes the thought of taking his clothes off excites me as much as him already having his clothes off.
“Yeah.” Heather smacks my arm. “You’re drooling. I’d say it’s getting pretty obvious y’all are something.” She tosses a piece of popcorn in her mouth. She’s moved on to other snacks she bought now that I’ve eaten half her pretzel. “I don’t know why you thought no one would notice.”
She yanks back the popcorn container before I can grab some.
“I fooled you, didn’t I.” I stick out my tongue.
“Barely.” She rolls her eyes, but let’s the conversation go as we settle in to watch the guys.
The match picks up as they guys chase around the puck. It seems as if the game is going well, because our players have control more often than theirs. And our fans seem confident.
Number six passes it to number eleven, who I think is Connor maybe. And then they pass it ahead to someone who’s number I can’t make out. I still don’t know all the guys or their numbers, but I’m getting better. It’d be easier if they’d stay still long enough to get a good look.
But I can always spot the one that matters. The only one I watch for with certainty is Sean.
Just as I think of him, Sean gets around a defender and cuts to the middle, guys trailing behind him. Cory passes it to him. Sean attacks the goal, avoiding one of their guys to take the shot on goal.
He brings his stick back. And scores.
The buzzer sounds as I jump up out of my seat, screaming, grabbing onto Heather’s hands as I cheer his name.
Sean scored. Sean scored!
He skates around the goal and celebrates with his teammates, but he passes in front of us, pauses, and then points his stick directly at me.
“Look!” Heather nudges me. “You’re on the big screen.”
“The what?” The image above replays Sean scoring his goal and then pointing his stick to me. “Oh no. What does that mean?” I lean over to ask her.
“It means he dedicated his goal to you. You’re going to famous!” She says the last part as if it’s a good thing, but I shake it off.
He dedicated his goal to me. I wish I could disappear.
I guess this really is more than just another game.
The guys skate back to center ice and the face off resumes as the ref drops the puck and the players scatter once more.
He dedicated his goal to me.
It’s hard to pay attention to the rest of the match, my thoughts getting trapped on Sean and how handsome he is, or when I count how many times that he looks over at me.
I can’t believe he did something so… public. I wonder if Heather is right? If that is something that means… I don’t know. That we’re official?
The second period plays out scoreless, but in the third, Connor scores two more. Heather practically faints with joy.
When the final buzzer echoes through the arena, I feel elated. It’s almost as if I won the game myself.
We rush down to where the players exit the locker room, and Sean, emotional, sweeps me into an embrace. I wrap my arms around him, not caring who sees, or that there’s flashing in our peripheral. All that matters in this moment is him.