Chapter 13 #3
“You won some,” I counter as we slide out of our race seats.
“I won five games.” He holds up one hand, his fingers stretched out. “Five, Colbs. You obliterated me at everything. Maybe I need to find a vending machine or something so at least I know I’ll win that.”
I scoff, my smile spreading impossibly wider. “I went easy on you.”
“That makes it even worse!”
Laughing, we make our way through the machines. As we near the doors, I spot an old-style photo booth out of the corner of my eye. It’s the kind that prints out the strips. An idea forms in my brain, and I quickly turn to Tyler, grabbing his wrist to stop him from walking off.
“I have an idea.” I grin, tugging him toward the photo booth. “We’ve gotta do this.”
Before he can argue, I take his hand and pull him inside. It’s a tight fit for both of us, clearly not made for two hockey players, but Tyler doesn’t seem to care when I’m practically sitting on his thigh. I tap my phone against the card reader, and it flashes up with a timer.
We’re given five seconds to get ready, and our first photo has us with the widest, cheesiest grins possible.
On the second, we stick out our tongues, then he grabs my chin and slams his lips against mine for the third.
As the clock ticks down for the fourth one, it’s like we’re unable to do anything except stare into each other’s eyes with a silent promise of everything we want to do to each other.
My pulse kicks up, beating rapidly in my ears.
The whirling sound of the photos being processed breaks our heated stare, and I quickly lick over my lips and get up from his lap. I slip through the curtain and wait for the photos to be printed.
It spits out two matching strips, and when I pick them up from the small opening, the back of my eyes burn at the sight of us.
We look so fucking happy. So carefree and alive.
I’m used to seeing photos of us together on the ice, but none of them look like this. None of them have captured the glint in our eyes that looks a lot like two people who are falling in love.
Fuck.
Tyler clears his throat over my shoulder, carefully taking one of the photo strips between his thumb and forefinger. I glance over at him, watching his reaction as he comes to the same realization.
When his eyes meet mine, I swallow the lump forming in my throat.
“We…” I say weakly.
“I know, Colbs,” he whispers, glancing back down at the photos. “I know.”
Without a word, we put the photos in our wallets and make our way outside. The silence on the walk to the burger place isn’t awkward, but there’s an obvious shift in the air between us.
Does he regret agreeing to this?
Thankfully, by the time we sit down to eat, we manage to shake off the cloud that’s been shadowing us since the arcade. There are TVs mounted on the walls showing various sports channels, and we get talking about the game tonight.
“Is it bad I really want the Steelheads to win tonight?” Tyler chuckles as we go through security after dinner.
Someone in a Boston Gargoyles jersey gasps next to him, and I cover my mouth with my hand to stop myself from laughing.
“Oops, sorry!” he calls after her, then snickers. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said that so loud.”
“You think?” I laugh and lead him up the escalators to the upper level.
Even though we’ve not long eaten burgers and fries, we order hot dogs and two sodas because we have the appetite of two hungry pigs. Tyler pulls his wallet out to pay, but I quickly shove him away from the card reader with my shoulder.
“Let me pay for these,” I say, tapping my phone against the card reader before he can reach around me. “You paid for the hotel and for dinner.”
“But—”
I pass him the hot dog and cup of soda. “Don’t argue with me, Beckmann.”
A slow grin twists his lips. “Or what?”
I don’t answer, just lean in and take a bite out of the end of his hot dog. Tyler gasps, eyes widening. I grin around my mouthful of food and pick up my own.
“You sneaky fuck,” he chides, but it’s all in jest.
We head over to a tall table to eat our hot dogs, and I let Tyler take a bite out of mine to call it even. I’m not that much of a menace.
We take our seats in the upper bowl, and look down at center ice. There are still a few minutes until warm-up starts, but it’s already starting to get busy.
Glancing around, I notice how nobody is paying any attention to us. They’re all focused on the ice or talking to the person next to them, unaware or unbothered that I’m here.
For the first time since we arrived at the arena, the swarm of nerves in my stomach settles, allowing me to relax, and it gives me the confidence to do something I wouldn’t normally get the chance to do.
I move my hand to rest between us and hook my pinky finger into Tyler’s like we did on the bus. The second my finger curls around his, he looks over at me, those dark brown eyes flashing with surprise, and then a smile lifts the corners of his mouth, lighting his entire face.
Maybe tonight can be everything I want it to be, and I can pretend that it’s not going to come crashing back down again tomorrow.