w 1 t n e s s

three

halle

I shivered in my seat. I was cold. I suppose that's the cost of willingly attending a hockey game. My recent interest with the Chicago Blackhawks was the cause of that. I hoped he was playing tonight. The cause of my fascination. After the young player had all but fallen into my lap, I'd had a growing interest in him. At first, because I was worried about his well being. And then, because I'd found out he was extremely attractive. After that, his impressive hockey skills had thoroughly hooked me. He was the whole package.

My friend and roommate Emily was usually the one to drag me to hockey games. She was an avid Toronto Maple Leafs fan, and had been since childhood. We'd grown up near Toronto, so it was all we'd known. I wasn't into hockey as much as she was. That fact greatly disappointed my family. Both my brothers had played hockey all through their school years, and some kind of game had always been on the TV. I'd refused to give into the hype, choosing to spend my time with friends and working on homework. Moving to North Carolina hadn't suppressed Emily's obsession. Over Thanksgiving break, we had flown home and attended the fatal Toronto versus Chicago game. That was where this had all started.

Now I was hopelessly cold, sitting in the PNC Arena, waiting for a glimpse of a boy I'd never meet. I knew his number, and I knew his name. I hoped that was enough to point him out to me on the ice and screen above.

As if spurring my hopes, the lights dimmed. Warmup time. I ignored the Hurricanes as they darted onto the ice. I had zero interest in the team that was closest to my school. When the Blackhawks took the ice, my interest was immediately peaked. It wasn't the easiest to pick him out under the darkness of the rink, or the speed at which the players were moving. I caught one sight of a lingering "one" but that was it. Maybe when it was lighter in the arena.

I jiggled my knee impatiently. The warmup time seemed to take forever. When it was finally time for the puck to drop, I was anxious. He wasn't on the ice right now. Of course. He was only a rookie. Rookies didn't start, right? I wouldn't know. Emily looked at me strangely as I craned my neck trying to see the bench.

"What's up with you? You're never this interested in a hockey game." I waved her off.

"I'm growing into my roots. Don't discourage me."

"Maybe. Or are you finally realizing how cute hockey players are? You're about six years too late for that." I rolled my eyes.

Emily was partially right. I hadn't been interested in dating in high school. She was. I hadn't found a reason to look at the hockey players. She'd dated her fair share of puck-lovin' boys.

Shifting on the bench caught my attention. A row of players was sitting on the boards, prepared to launch themselves onto the ice. I found him with ease. Unconsciously, I grabbed at Emily's arm. She complained, but I ignored her. I sucked in a breath as the current players on the ice swept towards the bench. He was off.

I was surprised to find I had no problems keeping my eye on him. He was always in the center of the action. He carried the puck up and down the ice, passing, being passed to, looking to score. I wanted to scream. Just shoot!

He was like liquid, moving fluidly up and down the ice. I squeezed my fists together as he received a pass from one of his teammates. He did a move around a Hurricanes player, making a fool of his opponent. Then it was just him and the goalie. The arena filled with tension as the star player approached the goalie with flying ease. He did a move I'd never seen before, faking out the goalie and drawing him all the way to the right. The move left a wide open net. The puck went flying into the corner, ricocheting off the post and into the net. The meager Blackhawks fans in attendance cheered. I was one.