"Girl, you are either absolutely clueless or absolutely blind," she says while rubbing her finger along the rim of her pint glass.
"What do you mean?" I ask skeptically.
"That boy couldn't keep his eyes off of you. He looked at you every time he skated by, and half the time he was on the bench he kept looking over at you."
"You're mistaken," I tell her confidently. Besides, I was watching Alex during the game. He didn't look at me at all.
Except … the only times I was looking at him was when he had the puck, and then, there was no way he could have looked at me because he was concentrating on the play. But I didn't look at him past that. I followed the puck and the game, not even thinking about staring at Alex the way Monica apparently was.
"Scoot over."
I hear the man of my thoughts before I even see him, as I have been staring pretty intently at my sweet tea. Raising my head, I see Alex standing there wearing a charcoal gray dress suit paired with a crisp, white business shirt opened at the collar. I assume he dresses up for game days, but he must have forgone putting a tie on.
He is absolutely splendid, and my tongue seems to be tied up in a knot within my mouth. He just stares down at me, his eyebrows raised.
"Scoot over, Sutton," he repeats, a tiny smirk gracing his lips.
"Oh, sure," I say, my brain starting to fire up on all cylinders again. Pushing my purse aside and grabbing my tea, I move over close to the wall of the booth while Alex slides in next to me.
He's a huge guy and even with me pressed over as far as I can go, his leg rests up warmly against mine, causing my heartbeat to start fluttering.
Alex stares at me a moment longer, then his head turns and he looks at Monica across the table.
"And who is this?" he asks me, even as he holds his hand across the table for Monica. She shakes his hand and giggles, twirling her hair around her free fingertip.
"This is Monica," I mutter. "I met her at the game."
"That's right," Alex says smoothly. "You were sitting next to Sutton. Hard not to notice."
I want to roll my eyes and make a gagging motion with my index finger in my mouth, but yeah, that went out of style in the third grade, so I clamp my lips shut and stare at my tea while Alex and Monica make small talk.
Chapter 7
Alex
Sutton's leg feels fucking amazing pressed up against mine and for the life of me I can't figure out why.
But then again, I can't figure out a lot of things about this woman. For instance, why did I send her only one ticket to the game? If I'm honest with myself, it's because she told me she had a date the other night and I didn't want her to bring another guy.
Or, why was I compelled to pay more attention to her during the game than the actual game? Maybe it had something to do with the first time I saw her tonight, walking down the stairs toward her seat. I knew exactly where she'd be sitting and figured I'd catch sight of her at some point.
I didn't figure there would be like a magical, magnetic pull of my eyes that caused me to look up at the staircase splitting sections 110 and 111 as she was walking down.
She looked amazing, dressed in a tight black sweater, with her gleaming red hair shining out like a beacon. Her eyes were wide as she looked around, taking in the sights of what was her first hockey game. I could almost imagine she would be feeling the excitement of the screaming fans and the bass beat of the rock music within her chest. It actually gave me a moment of excitement, knowing that she was probably in sensory overload as she took in the sights and smells of her first professional hockey event.
It almost knocked me to my knees as I realized that it was the first time-probably since I was a teenager-that something about a hockey game had caused an almost giddy rush inside of me. I tried to hold the feeling, tried to let it seep into my senses¸ but it was fleeting and then gone.
Then I just made do with watching Sutton whenever I could sneak a glance. I didn't expect her eyes to be on me the entire time, and just as I expected, she immersed herself in the action. She was either on the edge of her seat or surging to her feet to scream out cheers, often jumping up and down with some blonde, their arms wrapped around each other.
I was not happy to see said blonde sitting at our table when I arrived at Hoolihan's. I had been actually looking forward to talking to Sutton alone. I mean, I knew it would only be about business, but fuck if she hasn't been plaguing my thoughts the last few days, and I know that there's something to this girl that I need to pay attention to. A gut instinct, so to speak.