28

W aking up to Zoey crashing around our dorm room is my new normal. She's basically my alarm clock at this point. I have an alarm set, but she takes longer to get ready in the morning, so hers goes off earlier, in turn waking me with her crashing around. It was a little frustrating at first, but now it's just another Tuesday.

"Good morning!" I singsong to her. I'm a morning person, and she most definitely is NOT, so it always makes me giggle.

My phone goes off, and the smile that takes over my face is a bit ridiculous, but I know it's him. No one else texts me in the morning. Very few people even have my number.

Ugh, I forgot about that. This is going to suck; I think I already miss him. I'm so screwed.

Just as my feet hit the floor to go grab my coffee, Zoey opens the door and laughs. "You're not going to believe this," she says, turning towards me and crossing her arms over her chest.

I throw on my robe and rush to the door, releasing a small gasp.

Roman did not just have coffee delivered. There's a bouquet of lily flowers of all colors with my coffee, all sitting on a cute little hallway table. I snatch the card out of the flowers first.

Clutching the card to my chest, I do a little twirl in the doorway, forgetting we live in a busy college dorm and people are already staring over the scene in the hallway.

Blushing furiously, I grab my coffee and flowers and scramble back into our room, slamming the door in my hurry.

Zoey is just staring at me, arms still crossed over her chest, "If he's going to bring so much attention to us, he could at least send me coffee too, my favorite is an iced caramel macchiato." If you didn't know her, you'd think she was irritated, but she's happy for me and just poking fun.

I toss my phone on the bed and get ready for the day, not waiting for a response since he already told me he had to run.

The week carries on mostly without excitement. It's not the longest week ever, but it definitely didn't go by quickly.

I did feel a few . . . how do I explain it . . .stirrings? But it was so light, I don't know if it's her or my imagination. She doesn't seem as strong when Roman is not around. Maybe the bond helps to strengthen her, since we may have been poisoned my whole life.

Roman and I texted every day, but it's not the same as feeling the electricity between us when we're together.

It's finally Saturday, which means I'll get to see him tonight!

Last night, a delivery man came by with our tickets and a giant box with a big pink bow. We tore into that box so fast, it was comical. Nestled inside were two maroon jerseys for us to wear to the game!

Mine, of course, was Roman's name and number, while Zoey got a custom jersey with her name on it and a big zero-zero instead of one of the players numbers.

This man's thoughtfulness never ceases to amaze me. Of course I'd want his jersey, but he had one made for Zo so she would be comfortable.

We're getting ready for the game now, and I'm going with a bundled chic look because I didn't realize before how cold it gets in there. I'm wearing a pair of thick but cute black cargo joggers, with a T-shirt underneath my plain black hoodie. Then I added my jersey over everything so that it can be seen. Keeping my jersey unobstructed, I fixed my hair into the cutest silver space buns and added a little hair glitter for fun. I went with a super natural make-up look, just some mascara and a little blush, but Zoey wasn't having it. She took my liquid eyeliner pen and added a cute little number twenty-three to both my cheeks.

We stop in front of the mirror to assess our handiwork. We did good. We look adorable, and I can't wait to get to the game to see what he thinks, though I probably won't get to see him until after.

I don't think that I'll ever get used to the feeling of walking into the giant arena for these games. Fans are buzzing around everywhere. Some are buying Predators gear at the souvenir shops; some are buying food; and lots are buying alcohol. The energy is charged, and it just makes you feel ready to go! It's nothing like the electricity that runs through my body at his touch, but it's definitely a feeling all its own.

An employee helps us find our seats when I present our tickets at the door, and we both share a curious look. I immediately understand why when we finally make it to the VIP seating directly behind the team's bench. The employee fills us in on the benefits of these seats, which is insane, by the way; we get free food and drinks all night long. We don't even have to go get it; the employees will. And sitting this close to the action is going to be an unreal experience. I can't even think about how much money these cost. As soon as he walks away, Zoey and I clasp hands and squeal a little. This is really happening.

We get some looks from everyone around us. The girls look jealous and judgy. The men look at us like we're a piece of meat. The employees are the only ones who don't look at us weirdly.

We order some soda and chili dogs to have while we wait for the team to come out and warm up. We got here as soon as the doors opened, so we didn't miss anything, along with everyone else, apparently.

We've just finished our food when the lights dim and the music is cranked way up. There are lights flashing all over the place as the opening show begins to introduce the team. Everyone roars as each teammate skates onto the ice as their name is called. The roaring of the crowd gets louder and louder as the players are announced, and we haven't even reached the ones I know yet. When it's finally time to announce the starters, the arena erupts.

Each starter announced is another explosion of energy. Just when I think it can't possibly get any louder, Roman skates onto the ice. Not a soul in the arena remains seated. Men, women, and children alike all scream his name, jumping, clapping, stomping, and squealing. For just a moment, though, I don't hear any of it. When our eyes connect, it's just the two of us in the whole world.

He's supposed to skate around the ice, but he skates directly towards me and hops into the bench box. We haven't broken eye contact, but I'm no longer immune to the crowd. Especially now that they're focused on where he's going—right to me. He stops directly in front of me, takes off his gloves, places one hand over his heart, and one hand on the plexiglass barrier between us. Everyone's staring, and I can feel my face heating with blush, but I take a step closer and mimic his stance. Placing one hand on my heart and the other against the plexiglass where his lies. The cameras are on us now. I'm on the freaking jumbotron, and the crowd is in utter disarray.

This is crazy. Absolutely insane. But I can't find it in me to care. Sure, the whole world can see me now. But looking into his eyes in this very moment. I can't find a fuck to give about anyone else.