with her own and a little beer from her cup spills onto the concrete floor. “That was Garrett Samuelson. He is so fucking hot.”
Glancing to the ice, I see the player she’s talking about and he is indeed hot. None of the players have their helmets on right now; he has dark brown hair that flows down to just past his chiseled jawline and I can see his green eyes glowing brightly. The girl screams louder out to the ice, “Marry me, Garrett!” and I start to roll my eyes at such a pathetic attempt to get his attention.
Much to my surprise, though, Garrett’s eyes follow the trail of her scream and light upon her. He gives her a flash of white teeth and blows her a kiss, and I swear, she almost falls to the floor in a dead faint.
“Oh, my fucking God…did you see that? He blew a kiss at me,” she squeals, and I have to resist the urge to stick my fingers in my ears to muffle the terrible noise she’s making.
The hot hockey player skates away and the girl turns to me. “Hey, I’m Monica. I’m so glad we got another Cold Fury fan in that seat. More times than not we’re stuck with a fan from the other team and that just sucks.”
“Uh…hi,” I say lamely. “I’m Sutton.”
“Sutton? Oh, I love that name. So, who is your favorite player?”
“Um…honestly, I don’t know. This is my first game.”
Monica’s face drops for a second and she stares at me with her jaw hanging low. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope. In fact, I really don’t know anything about hockey.”
She blinks at me a moment, and I think she might be getting ready to call an usher to have me removed, but then she gives me a radiant smile and yells “Hockey virgin!” at the top of her lungs while pointing at me.
Everyone within a twenty-foot radius turns their eyes on me and I just want to sink into my seat and die.
Then Monica puts her arm around my shoulders and squeezes. “Don’t worry. I’ll teach you everything. You’ll be a pro by the end of the game.”
Just then a tapping noise gets our attention and we turn to the ice. I feel Monica’s body freeze next to mine as our eyes rise to the player standing on the other side of the glass, hitting the end of his stick against it to get our attention.
Okay, now that is holy fucking hotness right there.
Alex stands there, his hair slightly sweaty around his temples but otherwise looking like a sex god staring at me. His blue eyes are intent as they caress me, and I feel my breath falter within my lungs. He’s utterly beautiful, making that other dude, Garrett, look like a reject.
Flashing me a small smile, Alex shoots me a wink and then skates off. I stare after him, noting that the number on his jersey is 67, and I wonder if it has any significance.
“Holy shit, girl,” Monica wheezes as if she can’t get her breath. “Alex Crossman just eye-fucked you in front of the entire arena.”
“What?” I practically shriek as her words penetrate my hazy brain. “No way.”
“Yes way,” she murmurs appreciatively. “You could so hook up with him if you wanted. I mean, he may be the MVP of this team, but I’d do him in a heartbeat.”
“MVP?” I ask lamely, because I have no clue what that means.
“Most valuable prick,” she says matter-of-factly. “He’s a complete asshole to the fans. Rumor has it an asshole to his team as well. But God, he’s like the hottest player in the entire league, so I could definitely overlook that.”
“Huh” is all I can manage to reply, as my eyes find Alex again and I watch him warming up. He’s fluidly graceful on his skates, his hair flying out behind him as he whizzes by once more. He never looks back at me again, but that’s okay by me. I can’t afford to continually be beaten over the head by his magnificence, particularly with Monica sitting next to me ready to have a fit every time a player looks our way.
Finally, the warm-ups finish, the national anthem is played and then the game starts.
And I am
Glancing to the ice, I see the player she’s talking about and he is indeed hot. None of the players have their helmets on right now; he has dark brown hair that flows down to just past his chiseled jawline and I can see his green eyes glowing brightly. The girl screams louder out to the ice, “Marry me, Garrett!” and I start to roll my eyes at such a pathetic attempt to get his attention.
Much to my surprise, though, Garrett’s eyes follow the trail of her scream and light upon her. He gives her a flash of white teeth and blows her a kiss, and I swear, she almost falls to the floor in a dead faint.
“Oh, my fucking God…did you see that? He blew a kiss at me,” she squeals, and I have to resist the urge to stick my fingers in my ears to muffle the terrible noise she’s making.
The hot hockey player skates away and the girl turns to me. “Hey, I’m Monica. I’m so glad we got another Cold Fury fan in that seat. More times than not we’re stuck with a fan from the other team and that just sucks.”
“Uh…hi,” I say lamely. “I’m Sutton.”
“Sutton? Oh, I love that name. So, who is your favorite player?”
“Um…honestly, I don’t know. This is my first game.”
Monica’s face drops for a second and she stares at me with her jaw hanging low. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope. In fact, I really don’t know anything about hockey.”
She blinks at me a moment, and I think she might be getting ready to call an usher to have me removed, but then she gives me a radiant smile and yells “Hockey virgin!” at the top of her lungs while pointing at me.
Everyone within a twenty-foot radius turns their eyes on me and I just want to sink into my seat and die.
Then Monica puts her arm around my shoulders and squeezes. “Don’t worry. I’ll teach you everything. You’ll be a pro by the end of the game.”
Just then a tapping noise gets our attention and we turn to the ice. I feel Monica’s body freeze next to mine as our eyes rise to the player standing on the other side of the glass, hitting the end of his stick against it to get our attention.
Okay, now that is holy fucking hotness right there.
Alex stands there, his hair slightly sweaty around his temples but otherwise looking like a sex god staring at me. His blue eyes are intent as they caress me, and I feel my breath falter within my lungs. He’s utterly beautiful, making that other dude, Garrett, look like a reject.
Flashing me a small smile, Alex shoots me a wink and then skates off. I stare after him, noting that the number on his jersey is 67, and I wonder if it has any significance.
“Holy shit, girl,” Monica wheezes as if she can’t get her breath. “Alex Crossman just eye-fucked you in front of the entire arena.”
“What?” I practically shriek as her words penetrate my hazy brain. “No way.”
“Yes way,” she murmurs appreciatively. “You could so hook up with him if you wanted. I mean, he may be the MVP of this team, but I’d do him in a heartbeat.”
“MVP?” I ask lamely, because I have no clue what that means.
“Most valuable prick,” she says matter-of-factly. “He’s a complete asshole to the fans. Rumor has it an asshole to his team as well. But God, he’s like the hottest player in the entire league, so I could definitely overlook that.”
“Huh” is all I can manage to reply, as my eyes find Alex again and I watch him warming up. He’s fluidly graceful on his skates, his hair flying out behind him as he whizzes by once more. He never looks back at me again, but that’s okay by me. I can’t afford to continually be beaten over the head by his magnificence, particularly with Monica sitting next to me ready to have a fit every time a player looks our way.
Finally, the warm-ups finish, the national anthem is played and then the game starts.
And I am
Similar Books
