Much of the third period was spent with Evan in the penalty box from either roughing or boarding, and then finally a ten minute major for fighting that Kolten player near the board on the opposite side of us. I couldn't see much of the fight, but heard the screaming and knew what was happening.
A few fans shifted, and I was able to get a better view of them fighting. Seeing Evan so wild and aggressive was not what I expected. It was a huge turn on. My breath was practically panting.
Nice. He's fighting, and you're turned on.
Evan sprang forward again after violent jabs flew back and forth between the two of them when Evan caught hold of Kolten's jersey, and his next blow landed solidly on his face, snapping his face back and drawing blood. The refs finally stepped in and pulled them apart. Evan was still simmering, though he didn't fight the refs as they restrained his hands, leading him to the penalty box.
He seemed agitated when he was in the penalty box, mostly because he was in there and the Canucks scored again. Each goal from the Canucks was met with quiet groans as the crowd seemed to pretend nothing happened. Their good plays were met with booing and their mistakes with cheers that would light the entire place up.
The game ended in overtime with Leo capturing the final goal, extending their wins to 43-16. I only knew this from Callie. She was an expert when it came to that shit, and though Evan had told me she was a diehard fan, I truly had no idea until being around her tonight.
"It usually takes the boys a while to get to the bar." Callie reached for my hand, tugging me along. "Evan said we could meet them there."
"But I'm not twenty-one…"
"Doesn't matter." We moved quickly through the crowd, my hand linked with Callie's again. "They won't ask."
Thirty minutes later I was inside my first bar, underage and freaking out that any minute some overly large bouncer was going to come kick me out.
Callie was chatty and giving me the lowdown on all the players I had seen, most of which she had slept with. I hadn't asked, but I had a feeling she and Evan had slept together at one time. "So are all the guys in here some kind of athlete?" Most of them looked like they had money, and not just any kind of money; it was I-could-buy-this-bar-tonight money.
"Yeah." Callie shrugged. "Mostly. But you'll never get them to say, especially the hockey players."
"Why's that?"
"Hockey players never admit to strangers they're a hockey player."
"How do you know who is then?"
"Just look for the ones who talk bullshit."
I had to laugh. I understood what she was saying completely. They were goofy and full of themselves, but also secretive. "Why won't they admit they're hockey players?"
"They don't want to be treated differently. No athlete does. When they're here…they're having a good time."
Our talk continued, but I could barely concentrate on her. My eyes darted everywhere, not wanting to be caught off guard when Evan came in.
When I did see Evan come in, he was holding back a little, his hands in the pockets of his suit pants, his hair wet from his post-game shower, making it slightly darker.
The guys surrounded us, Leo and Remy hugging Callie, along with two other players I didn't know, but remembered their faces from the game. They quickly shot off different directions, finding privacy in the corners.
Evan stepped forward, his arm around my shoulder as Leo and Remy talked about their recent road trip. He looked down at the glass in my hand, smiled, and then nodded to the bartender who handed him what appeared to be a beer.
When he lowered his head and whispered words meant only for me, my pulse went crazy. "You look pretty."
Laughter from behind caused me to look back at the boys. Evan stayed beside me, the warmth of his body comforting as it always was.
"Her neighbors know my name," Remy said, winking at me. I noticed his tattoos right away. His forearms were covered in black markings I found incredibly interesting. Evan had some of the same markings on his own forearms, as did Leo. I had a feeling it was another one of their bonds they all seemed to have with one another.
Evan scrunched his eyebrows at Remy, trying not to laugh at his teammates, but you could tell his friendly banter was normal behavior.
"Nice," Leo said, looking for details and taking Callie's beer from her. "Was she hot?"
Evan let out a sigh and motioned to Remy. "Ami, this is Remy Carson, right wing for the Chicago Blackhawks." Remy had to be at least six foot four and was a wall of pure muscle. I probably would have found him intimidating if not for his smile and flirty grin, complete with dimples. His eyes were a syrup color and filled with more mischief than someone who was only twenty-four needed to have. His hair was dark, shaved down almost to a buzz cut that blended into a scruff that appeared to be neatly groomed.
"Remy..." Evan knocked his fist against his shoulder. "...this is Ami."
"I know," Remy teased, ruffling Evan's wet hair. Though he tried to glare at him, I could see that Remy was a good friend of Evan's. "So you're the girl that's got Mase staying away from the puck bunnies, eh?"
"Yeah, I guess." I had to laugh when I felt Evan tense beside me.