The seats were in the nosebleed section of the arena but luckily from the way the place was laid out, it seemed even the cheap seats got a pretty awesome view of the hockey rink. The seats were also on the aisle, which meant we didn’t have to squeeze past the fans with our overflowing cups of beer in hand.
The tension and excitement in the air was thick and kinetic. The arena smelt like a mixture of ice, chemically cheesed nachos, and stale beer. The people around us were shit–talking the Rangers, which took precedence over the terrible anthem music blaring from the speakers.
“Good thing you’re not a Rangers fan tonight,” I told Dex as he flipped through the game leaflet some kids at the door were handing out.
He shook his head and placed the leaflet in my free hand. “You should probably read up on this, get to know the roster.” He jabbed it with his finger.
I eyed it briefly. “Are you sure you weren’t a teacher in another life?”
He laughed at that. It was nice to see it reach his eyes.
“We would all be doomed.”
I shrugged. “We pretty much already are.”
“Kiddo, I’m afraid you’re the only person who actually listens to me,” he said, peeling the lid off of his beer cup. I knew that wasn’t true. Jimmy seemed to cave into whatever Dex asked of him, and my own parents were somehow shown the light within minutes of meeting him.
“And you barely listen to me at that,” he added. “Not that I blame you.”
“I’m listening now,” I said, leaning in closer to him. We were already quite cozy in our seats and I couldn’t help but want to make it cozier. He brought his eyes to mine and let them slide lazily down my face. “Tell me something,” I said with a soft voice.
He grinned with a boy–like awkwardness that I rarely saw on him. “Yes, m’am.”
And then he proceeded to explain the entire game to me, from what “icing” and “offside” meant, to who did what on the team, who were the best players and what constituted a penalty. If I were a hockey player, I know I’d be in the penalty box for most of the game. I’d wanna just hip–check the f**k out of everyone.
By the time we were at the intermission before the third period, I was heavily buzzed on four beers and trash–talking the Rangers with the couple next to me.
Dex was beside me being strangely silent. Not that he didn’t lapse into his quiet spells from time to time but considering how enthusiastic he was (and damn loud) every time the Canucks scored, almost scored or made a save, it was a bit strange. When I wasn’t talking to Jim and Trudy (the couple who were next to me) I was stealing glances at him. He was engrossed in his phone and from the way he was chewing on his lip instead of drinking beer, I knew it wasn’t something good. I also knew enough to leave him alone.
I took my attention off of him and looked around at the large crowd. People seemed as lubricated as I was and the atmosphere was infectious.
“How are you liking the game so far?” Jim asked kindly, trying to keep me engaged while Dex was in texting land. He was an amiable looking man in his late 50s, with a shock of white hair and a leather jacket with the Canucks logo on it. He had been coming to games for almost as long as there had been a team.
“I think I’m hooked,” I admitted. “It’s fast, it’s fun and aggressive. Almost makes me want to take up the game myself just so I can beat the crap out of some people and not get in trouble.”
He laughed. “The small ones are the most dangerous. If you play against your friend here, I’d advise him to wear protection.”
I giggled and looked at Dex. He had been telling me earlier that he used to play hockey when he was growing up in New York, and I had a sudden fantasy of tackling him while he was in full uniform. He’d look very sexy.
Dex finally realized that we had been talking about him and looked up from his phone with a sheepish look. What a hypocrite. Even though it was constantly gnawing at the back of my head, this itch that people somewhere out there were talking about me, I hadn’t looked at my phone once this whole game.
“Sorry,” he apologized, putting the phone back in his pocket and eyed Jim. “Are you trying to convince her to play hockey against me?”
“She obviously has a lot of aggression to get out,” said Jim good–naturedly. “I’d be careful with her.”
Dex smirked at me. “Oh, I am. She’d show no mercy against me. She’s a tiny tiger.”
Our eyes locked. A wave of tingles rushed through me. My head felt weighted with the beer and it seemed like there was more than face value to what Dex was saying. Then again, it always felt that way. With us sitting so close to each other it was taking a lot of strength to blot away the impulse to straddle him right there and show him how aggressive I really was.
“Hey!” Jim exclaimed loudly, tapping me hard on the shoulder. It snapped me out of my mini daydream with a jump. He was gesturing up at the screen above the rink. The “Kiss Kam” was on (you know, when they film couples in the crowd and try and convince them to kiss for the cameras) – and it was on us. Us.
There was Dex and I, our big, stupid faces splashed across the massive screen in high definition for the entire arena to see, with hearts drawn around us and a gum logo. I knew what people were expecting. Everyone – and I mean everyone – was looking at us. I suddenly wished the two seats in front of us were occupied so I could hide behind them.
In what felt like slow motion, my head turned to Dex. He was grinning at me, borderline sleazy. He lifted up his arm and put it around me. He took his other hand and touched my chin with his long fingers, tilting my face towards him.
This was happening. He was going to kiss me. In front of thousands of people.
Despite the mix of surprise and anxiousness flooding through me, I coaxed my wide eyes shut, parted my lips, leaned forward and…
SLURP.
He licked my face – from my chin, over my lips and nose, in between the eyes and ending at my forehead. I grimaced automatically, pulling back from the sloppy wet trail of spit he just left. My eyes flashed open to see him laughing like a 12-year old, while everyone else around us joined in too. I don’t know why I thought for one second that Dex would have taken something like a Kiss Kam seriously. I couldn’t have felt stupider.
But to show I was a good sport, I sucked it up and made an even more disgusted face for comic relief. I eyed the screen and luckily it just flashed on to another couple. To satisfy the giggles of the people around us, I took my hand and smacked Dex squarely in the forehead.