She slaps me on the back with a hand that’s shockingly large for a woman’s. “Thought you’d be in the WAGs box! Both of you!”
“These are great seats,” Jamie says, helping me out. His smile is pure amusement. “The WAGs box is fun, too, though. But I’m always hung over the morning after hanging out in there. Right, Jess?”
“Um…” I don’t even know what the WAGs box is.
Luckily, the game is starting. We all rise to sing “O Canada,” which I really don’t know. But that’s okay because Mama Riley belts it loud enough for all of us. I’m approaching deafness by the last “WE STAND ON GUARD FOR THEEEEEEEEEE!”
When I turn to my brother for a shared glance, something blue catches my eye. In his ear. Jamie is wearing one of those disposable earplugs.
“Omigod, where did you get that?”
“Hmmm?” he asks, passing me my dinner.
The starting lineup is announced, and when Blake’s name booms from the loudspeaker, Mama Riley cheers so loudly that I almost spill my beer.
Then the game starts, and the action is right in front of us. I’ve never seen an NHL game before, since I’m more of a football fan. But our seats are great and the fast-moving game is addictive. Blake is pretty incredible, too. He’s not as fast and slippery as Wes, but he’s just so forceful out there. I can’t even imagine what it would feel like to look up at two hundred and fifty pounds of Blake Riley charging you for the puck.
I have an inappropriate shimmy near my goal crease just thinking about it.
If I’m honest, Wes is on a team full of startlingly attractive players. Besides Blake, there’s Eriksson, who I wouldn’t kick out of bed. And of course there’s the pretty boy Will O’Connor.
Naturally, Jamie and I cheer for Wes and Blake every time they get their sticks on the puck, but our enthusiasm is nothing compared to Mama Riley’s. Whenever her son sets foot on the ice she lets fly a litany of violent encouragement.
“GET ’EM, BLAKEY! BEND HIS FENDERS! SINK HIS BATTLESHIP!”
I nudge Jamie. “What does that mean?”
He shakes his head, smiling. “I tune it out.”
It looks like the first period will be scoreless. But when there’s only fifty seconds on the clock, both Blake and Wes vault over the wall for one more press. Right before the buzzer, Blake makes a risky pass to Wes, who snaps it right back to him. If I’d blinked, I’d have missed the whole exchange.
Someone on the other team must have blinked, because Blake fires that puppy into the net at top speed. The lamp lights and the hometown crowd is on its feet and we are all THRILLED IN ROW E!
I’m shrieking when Mama Riley picks me up clear off the floor, crushing me against her giant bosom and yelling, “GOOD BOY, BLAKEY! MAMA LOVES YOUUUUUU!”
The announcer calls the goal for Blake and the assist for Wes.
The intermission begins while I try to catch my breath. Seriously, I need to come to more of these. Cheering for my friends beats the snot out of cramming for another anatomy quiz.
“So, Jessica,” Mama Riley starts.
“Mmh?” I’m sipping my beer and watching them set up for an intermission game down on the ice. It has something to do with T-shirt cannons and giant bullseyes.
“I hope you’re on some sort of birth control.”
The beer goes down the wrong pipe. I gag, my throat constricting. Then the hacking starts. I’m dying here, and Blake’s mom is still talking.
“There are more options for a girl your age,” she says. “Better pills and IUDs. No reason not to be careful.”
“Um…” I sputter. “I’m, um…”
Beside me I can feel Jamie’s laughter without even having to look.
“…a nursing student,” I finally manage. “I have, uh, lots of information about all of that.”
“Good,” she says firmly. “Blake doesn’t need any distractions. Women have toyed with him before.”
Even in my haze of embarrassment, this statement hits me a little wrong. I lock eyes with Mama Riley, and her expression is fierce. Maybe she’s the type to assume that every girl is a gold-digger. But I think not. Blake didn’t tell his family what happened, but mothers are damned intuitive.
I think she knows.
Jess: MAYDAY! Hope you see this before you see your mom. I sat next to her, and let’s just say a body cavity search would have been less probing.
Jess: Also, nice goal!
Blake: Shitballs. I’m sorry. Forgot J-Bomb’s seats were next to Mom. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh.
Jess: Felt like a jerk lying to her :(
Blake: I hate liars. And now I made you into one. My ex has got me all tipsy topsy.
Jess: Topsy turvy.
Blake: Whatever.
Jess: So would now be a good time to ask you if you needed a +1 for Hozier? #Pleasesayyes #ILied2YourMom4U
Blake: Wait. Is this a shakedown?
Jess: No, because I’m being REALLY HONEST here about how deep in love I am with…Hozier.
Blake: Fine, lady. But wear something sexy.
Jess: REALLY? I can go?
Blake: Yeah, it’s cool. Gotta go. I can hear Mom out in the hallway bellowing for me.
Jess: Bye! You’re the best friend in the whole world! I owe you!
Blake: Uh-huh. We’ll talk payment later. TTYTOTNDOW
Jess: ?
Blake: Talk to you tomorrow or the next day or whenever.