9. Paige
Ten Years Ago
I prefer football… at least that’s what I’m thinking while I sit in the freezing ice arena, snuggled deep in the blanket that I’d brought and trying to siphon as much of its warmth as I can. I HATE THE COLD.
Normal people don’t understand those who get cold easily.
They don’t understand the icy pains that shoot through your toes and fingers. The way the chills cling to your bones and refuse to let any heat reclaim your body. I can feel every freezing bone in my freezing body and see my breath when I exhale.
Who in their right mind would want to be here WILLINGLY?
Maxon appears next to me, handing over a steaming cup of hot chocolate and I almost confess my love for him right then and there.
No, that would be bad.
A ray of heat returns to my body and I’m trying to convince myself that it’s entirely due to the promise of the hot beverage and has nothing to do with the guy sitting next to me. The guy whose leg is pressed up against mine now, bouncing slightly in anticipation of the game, and his free hand slung across the back of my seat. “Don’t look so grouchy.” Max laughs, tugging on my hair playfully and I glare at him.
“I’m cold.” I say and he just grins, then he pulls his Sabres beanie from his head and slides it onto mine, adjusting it until he was satisfied with how low it was pulled over my ears.
“There, that’ll help.” He smiles and there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes that sets my heart fluttering.
“Th-thanks.” I say, trying to hide my blushing cheeks behind the blanket.
My retreat doesn’t last long when Max pulls half the blanket across his lap and leans closer. “Okay, so did you watch the video I sent you?”
“The hockey for dummies one?” I arch a brow at him.
He snaps a finger gun at me. “Bingo. All you really have to worry about is cheering when the Sabres get a goal.”
“And they’re at our end?” I clarify.
“Yes, for this period. They’ll swap at each period.”
I nod slowly. “And there are three periods.” Unlike football, that has four quarters which just makes more sense.
Max beams and warmth floods my system. I will never admit how many times I watched that twenty-minute video that explained the basics of hockey just so I could impress this idiot. I take a sip of my hot chocolate.
Suddenly, the lights go dark other than spotlights that flash against the ice, signaling the beginning of the game as players skate out. The crowd breaks into cheers as each player takes a lap around the rink, then shoots a puck towards the net and something inside me springs to life. When Max stands from his seat, shouting with the fans, I do too. Sirens blare, lights flash, and after the national anthem, the puck is “dropped” as Max tells me, and the beginning of the game starts.
At some point during the first period, Max disappears and when he returns his arms are filled with different snack foods, as if he’d ordered the entirety of the concessions stand. From popcorn, to candy, to a paper tray with chicken tenders and another with a burger. Food that we are only about halfway through when a fight breaks out on the ice, causing both Max and I to jump from our seats, sending food flying to the ground at our feet, but we hardly notice because this fight grows with every passing second.
Okay… I get why people like hockey.
Once the referees get the players under control and the worst of the offending players into the penalty boxes, Max and I settle back into our seats laughing, coming down from the high of the fight.
“Does that happen a lot?” I ask, grabbing the (closed) box of popcorn from the ground where it had fallen.
He laughs. “With any luck.”
I shake my head focusing on opening my popcorn. “I do not understa-”
“Look!” Max points and my attention is immediately drawn to the Jumbotron hanging over the middle of the ice. I stare at it open mouthed, trying to not only comprehend why I am looking at myself on the large screen, but also why Max and I are in the middle of a heart with the word “KISS” in bubbly letters that pulses like my racing heartbeat.
WHY ARE WE ON THE KISS CAM?
Panic climbs into my throat, and instantly my flight instinct kicks in, making me want to get up from my seat and hightail it right out of this awful situation. And I’m about to say that I have to go to Max when I turn to look at him and all thoughts of fleeing leave me.
Because he’s watching me with the most open and vulnerable expression I’ve ever seen, waiting for me. He’s not leaning in, he’s not making a move to get that on camera kiss and protect his ego. He’s waiting for me, waiting for some kind of signal that this kiss wouldn’t send me into a panic. And I’m vaguely aware of some announcer’s voice making fun of us about not kissing when the screen shifts and goes to another couple who immediately lock lips.
“Max, I…” …I froze, and I desperately want to tell him that. That it’s not him and that every part of me wants to kiss him, that my heart screams for it and it terrifies me all at the same time.
He gives a slight shrug, a smirk playing across his lips like he already knows exactly what I’m thinking. “I’m not worried about it Pages.” He chuckles, settling back into his chair. “One of these days, I’m going to be able to kiss you whenever I want.”
Present
There’s about fifteen minutes until puck drop when Max pulls me into the crowded team store. Blue, white and gold souvenirs pack the shelves with the Sabres logo and instantly I’m looking at a few of the patches and pins that I could easily convince myself to splurge on. I’m trying to figure out what I could attach a patch to when Maxon suddenly appears at my side, shopping bag in hand and shoves it at me.
I eye the plastic bag with apprehension. “What is it?”
“The boogey man.” He fires at me, and I hate that he manages to say it with a straight face. “Just take it.”
Hesitantly, I take the bag, peering into its contents and the jersey inside. My mouth hangs open for a moment before looking back up at him. “Maxon, I can’t take this.”
He rolls his eyes, then glances at the patch I have in my hand. “Do you want that too?” He asks and nods back towards the checkout.
I put the patch back and cross my arms. “No. And I can’t take the jersey either.” I protest.
Maxon just shakes his head though, placing a hand at the small of my back and leading me out of the store. “I can’t rightly have you prancing around in those biker shorts and blouse. You’ll be freezing before the first fight.”
I hate him. Mostly because I know he’s right.
It’s not long before Maxon and I are in our seats with drinks and popcorn and I’m wearing the brand-new jersey and sweatpants that Max bought, and dang it if they aren’t the warmest things I’ve worn in a while.
I’m 99% sure I’m going to be sleeping in them tonight.
Maxon nudges me with his shoulder, looking all too cute in his own jersey, the collar of his button up poking out slightly. “Having fun yet?”
A player on the ice shoots for a goal and the crowd cheers around us.
I nod. “Tonight is going remarkably better than I’d thought.” I grin.
That is… until about twenty minutes later when we start fighting.
I’ll say this, hockey brawls are mere scuffles compared to a Paige and Maxon argument.
“I don’t need your dumb charity, Maxon.” I’m glaring at him while he brushes off the half of a box of popcorn that I just threw in his face.
“It’s not dumb charity, I’m just trying to help.” He shoots back, his words clipped in annoyance.
“I don’t need that either. I can take care of myself.”
He scoffs. “Yeah, as evidence by being foreclosed on.”
I spring to my feet. “That’s not my fault and you know it.” I glare down at him and someone a few rows back shouts at me to sit back down with what some people would consider colorful language.
Maxon jumps from his own chair, turning and glaring up at the man who had shouted at me. “Hey, you can’t talk to her like that.” His tone is dark and gravely, mimicking the look in his eyes.
Still reeling from my own anger, I grab his arm and turn him back towards me. “You don’t get to fight my battles for me. I’m fine on my own.”
He lets out a frustrated noise just as the Sabres make a goal and the arena erupts in cheers. “I’m just trying to be there for you.” He shouts over the blaring speakers announcing the goal.
“I don’t need you now.” I scream. “I needed you when my grandma was diagnosed with dementia and my mom moved overseas. I needed you when my dad died, and I had to go deal with all of his stuff on my own because he had no one else in his life who cared about him.” I’m yelling and I didn’t even realize the cheering had died down. The people in the seats around us stare with open mouthed expressions as tears prick at the back of my eyes.
And Maxon? He just stares at me. Which is fine. I don’t think I can hold myself together for any longer anyways, so I turn on my heels and make my way around fans that stand between me and the walkway.
“Paige, wait.” I hear Maxon’s voice but I’m already at the steps that lead back up to the main hallway.
“Just leave me alone!” I shout and as I make my escape, I can hear the man swearing at Maxon again to sit down.
And this time… Maxon swears back.