by Aven Ellis
It’s all I can do not to laugh. Aubrey is mystified by my healthy food choices, just as I am disgusted by her need to eat cheese pizza with fries at every opportunity she gets.
I peel off my coat, pushing it back against my seat, and adjust the sleeves on my gray hoodie, pulling them down toward my fingers because being right on the glass is cold.
“So you didn’t elect to wear a sexy crop top tonight to seduce you-know-who?” Aubrey teases as she pops a fry into her mouth. “Or leather pants or stilettos?”
Then she inclines her head to the next section over, where two Puck Sluts, dressed scantily despite the fact that it’s fifteen degrees outside and freezing in here, are waiting for the players to come out for warm-ups.
I laugh. “Um, no,” I say firmly. “Would I like to be more dressed up? Yes. But it’s a stadium. I’m still frozen in this hoodie. And I’d look ridiculous dressed like that.”
“Actually, what you’re wearing is irrelevant since you’ve already taken off your clothes at his place last night,” Aubrey teases. “I bet you could seduce him with your Chicago Buffaloes hoodie and Converse shoes anyway.”
“Will you shut up?” I say, embarrassed.
And yes, my game outfit of a gray hoodie layered over a navy fitted T-shirt, J Brand skinny jeans, and my beloved Converse shoes is not exactly sexy, but at least it’s me.
And a part of me Landon needs to see, I think. Because this outfit is me. What I wear when I’m working making jewelry or hanging out on the weekends. I’m casual, just as much as I am DesignerA on TriviaPlayOrPass!
Aubrey lets out a wicked laugh, one that jars me from my thoughts. “Beckett had to go a few dates before I was stripping off my shirt. And yet you say you like to move slow. Liar!”
I feel my cheeks and neck burn hot.
“I’m going to go upstairs, buy a roasted beet salad, and force feed it to you if you don’t stop,” I threaten.
Aubrey gasps in mock horror. “You wouldn’t dare!”
“Oh, I would.”
“I call your bluff on that,” Aubrey says, lifting open the top of her pizza box. “If you went to get salad now, you’d miss Landy warming up. And you don’t want to miss him in all his hockey hotness, do you?”
I’m about to deny that when the opposing team, the San Francisco Breakers, skate out on the other end of the rink. People start moving forward, grabbing any open spot next to the glass, because they know the Buffaloes are about to come out on this end of the ice.
“And now, your CHICAGO BUFFALOES!” the PA announcer roars as Beckett leads the team out of the tunnel.
Anticipation fills me. I’ve always watched Landon before at games, but now it’s different. I don’t just see him as Landon Holder, sexy star defenseman of the Chicago Buffaloes.
I see him as Scott921. The man who spends time volunteering in secret. The one who dozes off with his cat on his chest. The one who knows Canadian prime ministers and placed the sweetest of kisses on my forehead last night.
That’s my Landon.
Aubrey and I park our food under our seats and stand up to watch the team come out. Beckett hits the ice first, and Landon is skating right behind him as he always does.
Landon is now coming around the net, toward where I’m standing against the glass. I draw an excited breath as he skates closer to me. Butterflies are fluttering like crazy in my stomach. My heart is pounding wildly as I take Landon in, looking sexy and gorgeous with his jet-black hair and piercing blue eyes.
And right now, those piercing blue eyes are locked straight on me.
I can’t breathe. I can’t.
Then he flashes me a huge smile, something he’s never done before in all the games I’ve gone to with Aubrey.
I smile back, excitement zipping through every part of me as he skates past.
“Landy!” a girl next to me yells, holding up a sign to the glass. “I love you!”
“He is hot AF,” another girl declares.
I know the translation for that—hot as fuck—and can’t help but agree.
Landon skates around again and smiles when he sees the sign. He gives the girl a slight nod, and she screams in utter joy.
Hmm. I wonder what the sign said.
And why did he acknowledge it?
Maybe it said, ‘It’s my birthday’ and Landon was being nice.
I glance at the what I hope is a Birthday Girl, dressed in super skinny jeans, high heels, and a plunging tight Chicago Buffaloes T-shirt showing off her perfect boobs.
Happy Birthday nod—good.
But a sign along the lines of ‘I want you and will be yours tonight’ that gets a nod? Not good.
“Stop the soundtrack of questions,” Aubrey says.
I blink, snapped from my thoughts. “What?”
“You’re watching Landy and your nose is creased,” Aubrey says. “Don’t overthink.”
“You’re right,” I say. “Besides, there’s nothing to overthink anyway.”
I had dinner with Landon. Dinner, my head emphasizes. That’s all.
But my heart says it was so much more than that.
“Oh, I disagree,” Aubrey says firmly. Then she leans closer to me, to speak into my ear over the pulsating music used for warm-ups. “Puck Sluts want what they can’t have. Remember that.”
“It was only dinner, Aubrey.”
“Oh, you can tell yourself that,” she says. “But we both know better, don’t we?”
I shift my attention back to Landon, who is standing beside Beckett as they take shots on goal. Landon fires the puck, sending it top shelf into the back of the net, and then skates around toward where we are standing.
My heart jolts the second he stops in front of me. “Selfie?” he yells at me.
The fans go crazy around us, with everyone wanting a selfie with Landon.
Landon puts his glove to the glass and taps where I’m standing. “You and me,” he yells back.
I nod happily and quickly retrieve my phone. Now my hands are shaking so I’m sure this picture will look like crap, but I’m so elated I don’t care.
I turn around, pressing my back against the glass, and hold the camera up.
And I lose my breath as I see Landon standing behind me, with a huge grin on his gorgeous face.
I snap the pic, feeling nothing but happiness sweep over me as I do.
I face Landon, who is still smiling at me.
“Is it good?” Landon asks.
“Very good,” I say, without evening checking the picture.
He nods and skates off, back to take more shots with Beckett.
All around me I hear “Why did he pick her?” and “I want one!” and “Oh my God, she got a selfie!”
But none of that matters as I study the picture of the two of us.
Landon wanted a picture with me.
He can nod at other signs, smile at the Puck Sluts calling his name, but Landon chose me.
And that’s all I need to know.
I’ve decided I hate the San Francisco Breakers.
It’s halfway through the second period, and the Buffaloes goaltender is having a horrible night. The score is 3-0 despite the stellar defensive play of the Buffaloes. All three goals were soft. Landon has fought to keep the Breakers away from the net on every shift he takes, even blocking a shot right in front of the net instead of trusting that his goalie might actually stop the puck.
The Buffaloes have more shots on goal, too, 13-9. But nothing is going their way tonight.
Beckett is crossing center ice with the puck when a Breakers player flies off the bench and skates straight at him, throwing an elbow to the side of Beckett’s face.
“Beckett!” Aubrey yells, jumping up.
I rise
from my seat, sick to my stomach. Beckett crumples on to the ice, shaking his head as if to clear the wicked blow he took.
But out of the corner of my eye, I see Landon skate hard across the ice. He rips his gloves off and punches the Breakers player who hit Beckett right across the jaw. Landon’s helmet goes flying off. Now they are fighting, and my stomach is now frozen in fear. Landon is pulling at this guy, trying to drag him down to the ice, and they are throwing punches right and left. Landon’s hair is flying all over the place, and, oh, do I see blood on him?
Beckett is up, shaking off the hit, and I hear Aubrey breathe in relief beside me. But my attention is on Landon, who has now dragged this other player down to the ice. Finally the referees get in and split them up.
The crowd roars for Landon, who is still yelling at the opposing player as he’s being dragged off to the penalty box.
“Five-minute for fighting and a ten-minute game misconduct for Number 37, Elia Dimytrov. Five minute for fighting and two minutes for instigating for Number 94, Landon Holder.”
The crowd boos in reaction to Landon’s penalty. I watch on the Jumbotron as Landon sits down in the penalty box, but then he’s being told to do something else. Landon gets up and skates back to his bench, then goes down the tunnel. It’s the blood, I think. He needs that cut cleaned up and a new jersey.
But as I see him walk off, I find myself breathing again.
Landon was all fists and fury in those few minutes, determined to punish the Breakers player who took the cheap shot on Beckett. He exploded on this guy and showed he would fight as much as his captain would when a teammate was in trouble.
I know hockey is dangerous. I know it can be violent.
But I realize when someone you know is out on the ice, those facts have a whole new meaning behind them.
I sink down into my seat. Aubrey is still focused on Beckett, who is being checked out on the Buffaloes’ bench, but my thoughts go back to Landon as play resumes. And the contradiction of Landon beating the crap out of an opposing player versus the man who gently kissed my forehead last night is not lost on me.
There’s a lot to reconcile with Landon, I think.
Is he the flirty playboy his reputation leads people to believe? Or is it that, a reputation? Will he disappear after our date tonight, thinking I’m too serious for him? Or will he want to see what happens if we begin to see each other?
One thing is for sure. I won’t figure any of this out from my seat right now.
But I will when we’re alone together later tonight.
“You’re being ridiculous,” Aubrey insists as we make our way through the stadium.
The Buffaloes went down 5-0 to the San Francisco Breakers, in a game where the goaltender was so bad he was pulled at the beginning of the third period. And the score would have been worse if it hadn’t been for Landon, who stopped two shots from sailing into the net with his stellar defensive play.
And now we’re headed down underneath the arena, to wait for Beckett and Landon to come out. Except Aubrey is insisting I wait in the lounge the Buffaloes have set up for the wives and girlfriends, which is the last place I want to be.
I shake my head in disagreement. “No, I’m not Landon’s guest. I’m yours. I don’t have any business being in the WAGS lounge. I don’t want people to think I assume that’s my place.”
And more to the point, I don’t want Landon to assume I think it’s my place to be there. That would totally freak him out. I mean, he’s never been into dating or relationships, and I plunk my butt in the WAGS lounge to wait for him?
“You’re my guest,” Aubrey clarifies. “Therefore you are simply waiting with me. To go out on a date with Landy.”
“Can’t we hang out in Stampede until it’s time?” I beg. I stop in front of the chic stadium club, and people bump all around us as we clog up traffic in the concourse. “Please?”
“You’re so neurotic,” Aubrey declares. “Landy wouldn’t even give this a millimeter of his brain space, you know.”
“But what if he does give it a millimeter of brain space?” I challenge.
“Arrgh! Fine. We’ll hang out here first, then when it’s the normal time when they come out, we’ll head on down to the lounge area and wait outside like two kids waiting for the bus to come pick them up after school. Happy?”
I grin. “Very. Thank you.”
Aubrey laughs. “You’re a nut, but I love you. Come on, let’s go people watch until it’s time to catch the bus.”
I can’t help but laugh. I so love Aubrey.
We make our way into Stampede, and people seem to be in a good mood in spite of the loss. Aubrey and I grab a table, but decline drinks. I figure I’ll have something with Landon later anyway.
And the whole time we’re sitting there, I’m distracted. I have a nervous energy zipping through me, one of anticipation. Of what will happen tonight. Will it go the way I hope? And if it does, will he kiss me?
Wait. If he does kiss me, will he think I’m a good kisser? Landon has kissed lots of women. Okay. I don’t want to think about how many he has kissed.
Or slept with, for that matter.
Regardless, Landon’s all kinds of experienced.
And I’m all kinds of not.
I’ve kissed like five men. Wait. Four. My first kiss was with a British exchange student who was sixteen. And shoved his hand down my blouse at the same time, so that doesn’t count as kissing a man but being mauled by an idiot boy.
So four. I’ve kissed four guys since I was sixteen.
Only two of them more than once.
Gaaaaaaaaaaaah!
“What is going on up there?” Aubrey suddenly asks.
I shake my head. “You don’t even want to know. I’m seriously crazy.”
“But I chose you as my crazy bestie, so you have to tell me.”
“What if I kiss Landon and he thinks I’m a terrible kisser?”
Aubrey furrows her brow. “What? What does that even mean?”
I feel my face grow warm. “You know I’ve only kissed two men seriously, Aubrey. Landon has kissed, well, a significantly higher ratio than me.”
“So?”
“Not so! What if I’m terrible compared to the experienced women he’s kissed?”
“Hmmm,” Aubrey says, her face growing reflective.
I wrinkle my nose. This is not the reaction I need right now. Aubrey is supposed to tell me I’m nuts. That I’m way overthinking this.
“Hmmm?” I prod.
Aubrey bites her lip. “I never thought of this. Landy has kissed a lot of women.”
I freeze. Oh shit. Even my best friend thinks my concern is legitimate.
“Right,” I murmur, nerves attacking my stomach.
“So it’s natural he would compare, I’m sure.”
Aubrey is really not helping me like a best friend should right now.
“I bet Landy has this mental scorecard in his head,” Aubrey continues, “and when he kisses a girl, he ranks her in his catalog of all the girls he has ever kissed. Which I’m sure is close to a thousand.”
I study her. She can’t be serious. A thousand?
“Will you stop?” Aubrey suddenly cries. “I’m kidding!”
“Oh, thank God,” I say, exhaling.
“Livy,” she says firmly, “I guarantee you Landy won’t be thinking about anyone other than you when you kiss for the first time. I promise you that.”
I nod, but I’m not totally convinced.
“And,” she says, glancing down at her phone and swiping it for a second, “I doubt you suck. For real.”
“Do you see what is happening? Landon is making me lose my mind. And we haven’t even kissed. I’m going to be a mess if he kisses me.”
And I know there will be no recovering from it.
“Well, time to find out,” Aubrey says, interrupting my thoughts.
“What?”
“Beckett says they’re going to head out. So get out your ChapStick because you’re about to test those waters with one Landy Holder right now.”
Chapter 11
TriviaPlayOrPass!
True or False: The lips are 100 times more sensitive than the fingertips.
DesignerA, play or pass to Scott921?
I am a nervous wreck as we take an elevator down to the bottom level of the arena. Aubrey’s texting something to Beckett on her phone. I glance over and I see a million different emojis being added, and I’m sure if she’s using the little green-faced sick one, she’s talking about me.
“Ooooh, Landy told Beckett you two are meeting up tonight,” Aubrey teases as she reads his message.
“Didn’t you tell Beckett that?” I ask.
The elevator chimes, and my stomach flips over in response.
“I did, but it’s quite interesting that Landy is the one bringing it up, don’t you think?” Aubrey says.
“Here you are, ladies,” the elevator attendant says. “Have a good night, Ms. Aubrey.”
“You too, Sylvia. See you next week,” Aubrey says cheerfully.
We step off, and I turn to Aubrey.
“Did Landon say hook up or meet up?” I ask urgently as this thought strikes me.
Aubrey stops dead in her tracks. “Does it matter?”
“Of course it does, I don’t want to be one of his two thousand hook ups.”
“Good girl. I’m glad to see you haven’t thrown all your core values out the window for him, no matter how charming he is or how sexy his tats are. But Landy said meet up.”