A whistle reprimands. Lizzie’s shoulder prods mine. She points her multicolored mitten toward the penalty box. I see the large white letters on the player’s back: SLICE. “I bet he’s trying to impress you. You know, by being the bad boy.”
“Stop.”
“What? It’s scientific fact that girls are attracted to the bad boy.”
I roll my eyes, which gets a laugh. The only person I want to look at is the boy guarding the net. I watch Alec’s broad shoulders defend the goal and can feel the ghost tickle of his touch.
When the final buzzer echoes throughout the stadium, I startle out of my trance. Sudbury players raise their sticks in victory as they skate toward one another and an odd flicker of pride flutters within me. I glance at the scoreboard over the net. Visitors 2, Home 8. In hockey terms, it was a slaughter. The whole crowd cheers and stomps their feet against the metal bleachers like it’s a rock concert. I pull my scarf tighter and stand.
Lizzie yanks me down by the hem of my coat. “We can’t go now. We have to congratulate Slice.”
“Right . . . yeah.” Nerves mount. Alec didn’t exactly invite me and I don’t want to look like a creeper for coming. Lizzie hops down the four rows of bleacher seats, me in tow. The players remove their helmets, almost in unison. Each head drips with sweat, their cheeks apple red. I can see Gregg’s bright smile from where I’m standing, nearly twenty feet away.
Alec’s still on the ice, leaning against the frame of the goal. He picks up a plastic bottle and squirts water into his mouth, across his face. It gives me a chill just watching him. Then Gregg is standing in front of me.
I startle. “Hey.”
“Glad you made it.”
“Great game,” Lizzie tells him.
“Thanks.” Gregg raises a towel to his face and wipes at the sweat. “I don’t think we can lose now that we’ve got Alec in the goal crease.”
My stomach flutters at the mention of his name. This cannot be normal.
The team shuffles past us toward the locker room, the crowd thinner, the air quieting. That’s when Alec makes his way off the ice and right to us.
The smile on Alec’s face is slightly crooked, and contagious. He nods a hello to Lizzie. Then to me: “I didn’t know you were coming.”
Lizzie shoots me a look just as Gregg knuckles Alec on the arm. “Let’s hit the showers. I smuggled in a six-pack.”
“Sounds good,” Alec says, his eyes dropping from mine.
Gregg turns toward the locker room and Alec follows, but soon doubles back. Alec is so sure and steady on the thin metal blades of his skates. He holds out his hand, asking for mine. My breath comes in slow, thin bursts until my hand locks with his. Then, when we’re connected, the entire world falls away and it is just me and Alec. Zephyr Doyle and a beautiful boy. I almost laugh at the surprise of it all. Instead, I take in his hair, how it’s dark with sweat and disheveled. How his lips glow plum pink, the exact color of his frozen cheeks.
Alec leads me to the side of the rink. I look back and see Lizzie with her mouth hanging open. I know I should stop whatever is about to happen, but I don’t want to. The entire stadium—and everyone in it—fades away as Alec leans his hips into mine. His chest is enormous, covered in protective plastic. He moves toward me and his pads press me against the Plexiglas. Still, I can feel his heat.
He burrows his face against my cheek and plants a quick kiss. His lips are ice. “Were you here for me?”
“Maybe.”
He winks at me in a way that makes my pulse dance.
Then his lips touch mine in a hovering butterfly kiss, so soft and ethereal I find myself leaning in, begging for more. But there is only air when I open my eyes. Alec’s back fades as he jogs off to the locker room. I see him push open the door. And there’s something else. A movement, a blur of color. Gregg.
He moves out from behind the refreshment stand and shuffles across the hall to the locker room. He shoots me a contorted look that tells me we are so not cool.
• • •
“Do you mind telling me how that happened?” Lizzie sputters.
I’d managed to convince her to get into my old Volvo and drive to a nearby neighborhood, away from the rink and my unintentional love triangle. I keep the engine running for heat. A tiny dog yaps at us from behind the window of a small tan house.
“Alec and I hung out this weekend. And again today. At the park.”
“Wait. While I was at work? Did you blow me off for a guy?”
“Not intentionally. And I feel bad, but I didn’t want to tell you about Alec until I knew it was something.”
“And is it something?”