Because hockey.
There are a few more minutes to wait. They’re setting up a ceremonial puck drop on the rink. I sip my beer and receive a few more greetings from players’ wives. I’m good at remembering names—that comes naturally to me. But I wonder if there’s any point. These women are being awfully nice to someone who’s probably never going to repeat her visit to the most privileged spot in all of Toronto.
But I’m sure going to enjoy it while it lasts.
The door to the suite bursts open, and a short woman with curly black hair arrives like a windstorm. “Girls!” she shouts. “You’ll never guess who asked us for a pass tonight!”
“Was it Eriksson?” Jess asks with a grin.
The newcomer’s eyes sweep the room and land on me in my comfy seat. “Ah!” she says, tossing her purse onto a side table. “That’s what I get for being late to the party. Welcome, Miss Hailey! We’re happy to see you. That poor man needs someone to love him right.” She looks me up and down. “Are you up to the job?”
Gulp. Her stare pierces me, and I don’t know what to say. Loving Matt Eriksson sounds like the easiest job in the world, but I really can’t assume that I’m going to get the chance.
“Estrella,” Jess protests with a giggle. “We don’t interrogate people until their second visit, remember? Not until they figure out that we mean well.”
Estrella smiles. “Sorry. It’s just that he’s been through a lot.” Her gaze travels over my head to the ice. “Faceoff time!”
My attention whips back toward the rink. The ref drops the first real puck of the evening, and that’s it. I’m gone. The WAGs and their questions fall away, and I’m lost to the tug of the game beneath me.
Matt is skating with Wesley and Riley tonight. They look on, too, passing amongst themselves with barely a necessary glance. When a line is working well together, it’s instinctual. They sense each other’s situations effortlessly.
It takes a few shifts of hard skating to shake up Dallas. Our first couple of shots on goal are deflected. Then their defense makes an error around the seven-minute mark that changes the game. Riley steals the puck, using his considerable bulk to box out his opponents. He fires a nearly blind pass to Wesley, who fires it to Matt.
He shoots, and I hold my breath. The goalie dives for it, and my blood stops circulating.
The light on the net is quickly followed by my shrieks of ecstasy. “YEESSSSSS!” I scream. “GET USED TO IT, DALLAS!” I’m jumping up and down. The jumbotron zooms in on Matt’s handsome face, grinning behind the safety shield as his teammates congratulate him.
It takes a little more screaming to burn off my zeal, and then I flop back into my seat. My system is a little stunned at all this good fortune. Both orgasms and live hockey games are rare in my life, and having both on the same day is life-changing.
Someone taps me on the shoulder, and I look up to find Katie grinning at me. These women are probably used to having orgasms and hockey in steady supply. The cushy seats and beers are just icing on their gourmet cake of life.
“Here’s your shot!” Katie enthuses. She hands me a shot glass with salt around the rim, and a wedge of lime.
Still high on Matt’s goal, I toss it back, bite the lime and smile. The room promptly erupts with glee.
But we have a game to watch, and I’m all business.
The speed of play increases down on the ice. I can grudgingly admit that Dallas is a great team. The next portion of the game is tense and non-scoring. I forget my beer and everything else. When there’s less than a minute on the clock, Dallas makes one more rush. I hold my breath again as Matt steals the puck. He can’t get the pass off before a Dallas player reaches him, and the asshole uses a crosscheck that stuns me.
“Did you fucking see that?” I shout, leaping to my feet. “HEY REF! Clean your glasses or I’ll come down there and do it myself!”
Estrella whoops from behind me. “Ladies, we have ourselves a hockey fan!”
I spin around. “Did you see that? He raised that stick high enough to play a game of limbo! Asswipe.”
There is laughter, but I’m still seeing red.
“Breathe, Hailey,” Jess says as the announcer begins to speak. “They gave the jerk a penalty.”
Indeed, the offending player is making his way to the box. Matt skates off unharmed.
I sit down, and play resumes for only a few seconds before the buzzer sounds for the end of the period. Jess gets up to refill her drink, then flops beside me again and leans in with a smile.
“You’re a blast,” she tells me. “Are you coming to the next home game?”
Discomfort ripples through me. “I don’t know,” I admit, because I guess it all depends on whether Matt wants me to. I lower my voice and add, “I’m not really sure what’s going on with me and Matt, if I’m being honest.”
Either I don’t speak quietly enough, or these women have superhuman hearing, because Katie Hewitt speaks up from the other end of the row. “You’re his girlfriend,” she says with a grin. “Totes.”
I’m even more uncomfortable now. “I’m not. I mean, we haven’t had the are-we-dating conversation yet.”
Katie rolls her eyes. “Of course you’re dating.”
I frown. “Why are you so sure of that?”
She waves a manicured, diamond-ring-laden hand around the lavish private box. “You’re here, aren’t you?”
It can’t possibly be that simple.
Can it?
Hailey: Good game! I’m sorta plastered because of you.
Matt: Yeah? I knew it would stink not to be able to see you again tonight. Did you do shots for me?
Hailey: Yap.
Hailey: Yurt.
Hailey: YES. Stupid phone.
Matt: :) Hailey: Problem. Maybe. I mean, not for me. But maybe for you. A problem, I mean.
Matt: Um, help me out here. What?
Hailey: Tonight your teammates’ WAGs informed me that I’m *your* WAG.
Matt: They did, huh?
Hailey: Ya. Apparently it’s a big deal that I watched the game in their box. Why didn’t you warn me?
Matt: Honestly, didn’t even think about it. Just wanted you to see the game.
Matt: They didn’t freak you out, did they?
Hailey: Not really. But…
Matt: But what?
Matt: ?
Hailey: I guess I am wondering what it means. Ugh. I’m being a girl, aren’t I?
Matt: It’s OK. Girls are hot ;) Especially when they’re sorta plastered. Do you really want to have THE TALK over text?
Hailey: I didn’t say I wanted THE TALK!
Matt: “I guess I am wondering what it means” = THE TALK. What do you want it to mean?
Hailey: I don’t know. Drunk person here.
Matt: Do you like me?
Hailey: Hell yes!
Matt: And I like you. We’re dating, right?
Hailey: Yes.
Matt: So that was easy, right?
Hailey: Are we just dating each other, though?
Matt: Ah, gotcha. You want the E-word.
Hailey: Echo? Earwax?
Matt: Exclusive.
Hailey: I wasn’t even thinking about that. But…now I am. Are you seeing anyone else?
Matt: Nope. And neither are you. Because we’re exclusive.