15. Hockey Romance Era

15

Hockey Romance Era

Hayley

Hockey is a lot more brutal than I expected. Players keep getting slammed against the hard glass, and since we're seated right behind it, I can't avoid witnessing the painful-sounding collisions. I narrow my eyes in anticipation when the players whiz toward us at high speed so I can close my eyes on impact. Especially when it's Maxime. He has a lot of play time tonight, and I'm excited for him. That must mean he's doing something right, doesn't it? But that also means he gets slammed quite a few times .

Maxime was right. It's a fun game loaded with nonstop action, and you really can't get bored. There haven't been many goals made so far. Two on each team. But since play time is divided into three twenty-minute periods, it goes by quickly. And every time there's a pause in the game, music starts playing, so it's kind of cool. They even got us inflatable cheering sticks with lights inside so we can tap and cheer on our team.

What I'm most in awe of, though, is the ease with which they all move on the ice. They look like they're gliding, not skating, yet they have so much intensity in their movements. Their skates seemingly carve through the ice. I've never seen anything like it. Believe it or not, I think hockey is actually a sport I could get into. I'm having a hard time figuring out who is who, though. I memorized a few of the guys' numbers, but not all of them. Of course, I have Maxime's jersey front and center in my mind, and I mostly just watch him the entire time he's on the ice.

This is a problem. How can I put distance between us so he can focus on his career, and I on mine, when his sexiness just tripled? Full disclosure—I'm now definitely in my hockey romance era, and I will binge all the books I can find starting tomorrow. If I can't have the real deal, at least I'll add an entire team of hockey players to my list of book boyfriends. A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do .

There are only two minutes left on the clock, and I feel like we just got here.

The players are all moving toward the opposite goal. Someone tries to shoot but misses and gets slammed against the glass. The play isn't over, though. That's what I like about the game. The puck never seems to be "out." If the goal is missed, they just keep at it. They can skate behind the net and come back for another shot.

Someone—is it Caleb?—passes the puck to Maxime, who shoots toward the goal. I don't think it made it in at first, but the puck bounces against the net, and the entire arena roars. A loud horn blasts, and the light above the net flashes. Maxime skates away at full speed, brandishing his stick high in the air, a full smile illuminating his face.

I jump up with my arms in the air, smiling so much it hurts. Alice, who's repeatedly told us she doesn't care for hockey, is yelling at the top of her lungs, jumping up and down like a little girl. And even the hardened Emma is sporting a grin.

Maxime dives chest-first on the ice, and the rest of the team piles over him, hugging him and echoing the same elation on their faces. The cheers of the supporters mingle with their laughs. Of course Maxime would have a goofy goal celebration. It's in his DNA. That man . . .

They all stand up, sticks raised high above their heads, fist bumping each other. Maxime skates toward the bench when the excitement is at its peak. The guys there slap his back and bump his fist as he skates along the bench. He finishes his celebratory lap by racing toward us, and my heartrate goes through the roof. I didn't think that was possible given that I was already in the red zone, according to my smart watch.

We jump up and down, and he presses his fist on the glass for us to bump. A host of fans add their fists next to ours, and before he goes back to resume playing, he winks at me. Winks .

He's definitely not allowed to do that to my poor heart. I wish there was a referee to ensure the rules are followed. How am I going to resist him now?

Soon after the play resumes, the game ends, and it's a win for our New York Raptors. The first game of the preseason is theirs, and Maxime Beaumont scored the game-winning shot. And as his friend , that makes me proud beyond words.

I'm seriously glad we came tonight. It was a blast, like Max said it would be. And it was always clear to Alice, Emma, and me that we would be there to support the guys for the first game. It's only natural after the big help they've been. I'm so happy for their win, and I'm excited to congratulate them.

Unfortunately, we have to wait quite a while before we can see them. I knew we'd have to wait, but I didn't realize it would take this long. Maxime texted me to say that before they take a shower and talk to the media, they exercise . Yeah, you got that right. I assumed it was some kind of punishment or a first-game thing, but no. I checked online. Turns out, it helps players flush out the lactic acid that builds up during a game. Whatever that means. Apparently, they mostly just hop on exercise bikes.

The girls and I decide to grab a bite to eat while we're waiting. Finally, Max texts me that they're ready and that they're hopping over to the bar close to the arena.

We meet them there, and the atmosphere is even more packed than during the game. Most of the patrons here are fans, and we have a hard time getting through. Luckily, they privatized the back of the room for the team. When we get there, Maxime is the first player we spot. He strides toward us, a big grin on his face as he gives each of us a hug in turn. Even Emma, who's not keen on physical contact, hugs him back.

"Congratulations," we all say .

"That was fantastic," I gush.

"A lot better than your high school games," Alice adds.

He laughs, wrapping his arm around Alice. "Thank you for coming. It was a big surprise."

"Yeah, we wanted to show our support for our favorite hockey team," she says, grinning. "And you know how much I love surprises."

He shakes his head, still smiling. "I should have expected as much."

His eyes fall on me, and I can tell he wants to say something but holds back because we're not alone. It's probably better that way. If anything, seeing him showing off his talent on the ice tonight, and witnessing the intensity of the crowd, makes me keenly aware of how important this all is for Maxime, for the team, and for their supporters.

We move on to congratulate the rest of the team and enjoy a drink together. I was prepared for the place to be packed with fans. What I wasn't prepared for was the number of scantily clad women circling the reserved space all night. Some of the guys happily engage them in conversation, flirt with them, star in their selfies, and sign autographs. One woman even asks for an autograph on her cleavage. Classy.

"Hey," Max says, making me jolt when he comes up behind me. "I got you something. "

My heart starts pounding again. "What is it?"

He shoves his hand into his pocket and pulls out a puck. Smiling, he hands it to me. "The puck I scored with tonight."

My eyes widen. "What? No, you should keep it."

"I want you to have it." He places it in my hand, and I study it like it's a national treasure. It's just a regular puck bearing the team's colors, but on the side, there's a strip of athletic tape on which is written, "Maxime Beaumont #1 Goal." I know how much this means to him, so the fact that he's giving it to me doesn't exactly help with my tangle of complicated emotions. Referee? That's a five-minute penalty. Minimum. Even if it'll take my heart a lot longer than that to recover.

"Thanks," I mumble, my heart thundering in my chest at the sweet gesture. "It was a great game. I loved being there, and you were fantastic."

He offers a full smile. "Thank you. Seeing you guys in the stands was pretty invigorating."

"So, I guess we have to come to every game now, huh?"

He laughs, crossing his arms. "Exactly, Nash. Your attendance is mandatory."

Suddenly, I wish that was the case. That I could support him at every one of his games, wearing his jersey, cheering in the stands. I don't think I'd ever get bored. Seeing Maxime come alive on the ice tonight was one of the best experiences of my life. But that reality is reserved for his future girlfriend. I've been fooling myself, thinking I didn't want anything more with Maxime. Who am I kidding? As much as I try to deny it, I'd kill for that official girlfriend status. Even if I know I don't stand a chance.

"Maxime," a cluster of girls call from the side. We both turn our heads. They're gorgeous. Two blondes and one brunette with all the right features in the right places. Perfect feminine bodies and smiles no guy could resist.

A lump forms in my throat because this is Max's life now. Pretty girls asking for a selfie or his autograph after games, vying for his attention. It's already hard enough to compete with myself and let go of my insecurities. How could I ever compete with those girls? Not that Maxime has made a real move on me anyway.

He smiles at them, then looks at me with a wince. "I'll be right back."

I nod, smiling. "Go see your fans. We're going to call it a night, actually, but it was great to be a part of it."

His face falls. "What? Really? I thought maybe we could talk."

My heart leaps, but my brain is stronger. "Yeah. We have a lot of work to do tomorrow, and you need to celebrate with your team and your fans. "

He's disappointed. I can see it in the way his head lowers. I glance away, afraid that if I don't, I'll give in and tell him I'll wait for him.

After a beat, he rubs the back of his neck and says, "Okay. Our next games are away, but I'll see you soon, I guess. Thanks again for coming tonight, Nash. I really appreciate it."

I swallow hard, trying not to lose myself in the depths of his gaze. "Of course. It was fun."

He leans forward and pulls me into an awkward hug. Or is the awkwardness coming from me? I don't think Maxime is capable of being awkward. Everything about him radiates confidence and strength.

Stepping away, I plaster on a smile until he turns around. Then, I hurry out of the VIP area, fleeing the bar as fast as I can while avoiding spills of beer. Once out, I lean against the building and close my eyes. I shouldn't have come tonight. It was already hard enough to resist him, but now, it's downright impossible.

I did it. I fell for Maxime Beaumont, and I'm surely going to pay the price. Because even if he's a great guy and he could be interested in me, he's a hockey player—a good one at that. Girls are going to be swarming him left and right. And even if he's a professional and hockey will occupy most of his thoughts either way, at the end of the day, this is me we're talking about. I'm not built to compete with those girls. I'm not enough. Not to hold the attention of a hot hockey player like Maxime. Not to draw his eyes so he resists all those temptations. The only relationship Maxime and I can have is friendship. Even if my heart wants more than that, my brain knows it's all we're ever going to get.