I nodded and eagerly took a nacho he offered me.
“We should finish these fast,” he said. “Once the game starts, we won’t be able to eat.”
I squinted. “Why not?”
“We’ll be standing the whole game.”
“What? Why?”
“You’ll see.”
“That sounds tiring.”
“It’s more active that way—just the way you like it.” He smiled and I returned the gesture, liking the way he paid attention to minor details I told him about myself. “But we do sit down between periods.”
Hunter and I picked up the pace on eating the nachos. It seemed like Hunter was really into hockey and I kind of found it cute. We finished our nachos just as the arena lights dimmed. I looked around, but nobody seemed surprised, including Hunter. Instead, everyone was standing.
“Game time,” he said, looking down at me.
I stood up and watched as our team filtered onto the ice, followed by several spotlights. They skated around the rink while the band played the fight song to our right. Hunter and the rest of the section sang the lyrics loudly. I didn’t know the words to the Arrowhart fight song, so I just clapped along, making a mental note to learn the song in case I ever went to another sporting event.
When the song ended, the lights came back on. Hunter banged on the glass and screamed words of encouragement at the red and white clad players as they skated by. There were a few other people along the glass doing the same.
He turned to me to gauge my reaction as the players skated to the bench. I smiled at him and gave a thumbs-up sign, enjoying the lively pre-game ceremony.
The other team was already sitting on their bench, which was situated right next to our team’s bench. Their jerseys were dark green and their coach, wearing a black suit, seemed to be already yelling at them already. Our coach was standing with his arms crossed as five guys and the goalie jumped over the short wall in front of the bench and onto the ice. Soon, the green team followed. The game was about to start, and everyone was yelling.
“This is called a faceoff,” Hunter said. Even though he was right next to me, I could barely hear him above the clamor, but I nodded anyway. The referee dropped the puck and the game began.
It didn’t take long to realize that hockey was a very fast game. The players seemed to be constantly chasing after the puck when it was against the boards. Whenever they crashed up against the glass, I was shocked at how much it shook. The way these guys kept skating after hitting each other so hard boggled my mind.
The first period was over quickly without anyone scoring any goals. The student section sat down for the first time since the game had started. It wasn’t until I had taken a seat that I realized how sore my legs were.
“So what do you think?” Hunter asked.
“It’s definitely fast.”
He smiled. “Yeah, it keeps your attention.”
“Is it normal for them to not score for a whole period?”
“Yeah, there’s usually only a couple goals in a game. It makes it more exciting when they score.”
I nodded. We were quiet for a while, recovering from the intensity of watching the game. Everyone in our section seemed to be resting before the next period.
“Did you ever play hockey?” I asked him.
He shook his head. “They don’t really play much hockey in San Diego. I didn’t get into it until I came here for school, but now I love it. Kinda wish I played, actually.”
“I guess doing cage fights is enough athletic activity for one person.”
He laughed. “Yeah, probably. I’m sore enough after training that I doubt I'd have the energy for any other sports.”
The second period and most of the third flew by. There were five minutes left in the game and we finally scored the first goal of the game. The entire arena erupted in cheers so loud the noise hurt my ears. Hunter high-fived everyone around us, including me. His palm made a loud slap against mine; it stung but I ignored the pain because his excitement for the game got me excited as well.
The band played the fight song, and everyone sang, then shouted a mean chant full of curses at the other team’s goalie. Even though my ears were ringing like I’d just been at a concert, I found myself screaming and cursing along with everyone else. The energy was infectious.
“C’mon boys, hold on!” Hunter yelled during the third period.
“Yeah, fuck ‘em up!” I screamed.
Hunter turned to me in surprise. “You’re getting into this.”
I flashed him a grin. “It’s hockey.”
His lips curved into a boyish smile. “Couldn’t have said it any better.”
Suddenly, a player was body-checked and slammed into the glass in front of us. Thinking he was going to crash through the wall and into us, I jumped into Hunter’s protection.
Hunter put his arm around my shoulder and squeezed me to him. The hockey player shook off the hit, looked at me through the glass, grinned, and winked then he continued skating after the puck. Bold letters on the back of his jersey read “MASTERS”.
“Focus on the game, you douche,” Hunter yelled harshly then looked down at me tenderly. “Scared you huh?”
“Just surprised is all.” His arm squeezing me against his hard body felt good.
“The glass might look weak since you can see through it but it’s actually really strong. You don’t have to worry about it breaking.”
“Appearances can be deceiving,” I said eyeing the glass gingerly. “Did you know that player?”
“He’s Caleb Masters, the star of the Arrowhart team. He’s a bit of an arrogant prick but I have to admit he’s good at hockey.”
Arrowhart ended up winning the game, leaving our entire section in smiles. As we were filing out, Hunter asked me if I wanted to go to Clyde’s for some ice cream so we could revel in our victory. I had a great time at the hockey game and could still feel excitement buzzing through my body like I’d actually been one of the players, so I agreed. Whereas Hunter preferred cooldown walks, I preferred cooldown ice cream eatings.
It seemed like everyone had the same idea he had, because the line at Clyde’s was out the door and around the corner. We decided to wait it out. There were few things I remembered about Arrowhart from before I left, but one of them was Clyde’s. They had some super delicious ice cream.
“So,” Hunter said. “What’s the verdict on hockey? Thumbs up?”
I put both thumbs up. “It was really fun. Thank you for inviting me.” I actually couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so excited about something. I recalled how Hunter looked at me weird when I shouted my support for our team. I thought that was pretty funny.
“Thanks for coming. It’s been a fun night,” he said giving me a brief hug and a rub on the shoulder. When he took his hand away, I felt strangely bereft, hoping for a longer contact.
“Agreed. I hope you didn’t mind teaching me about hockey.”
“My pleasure.” The last word rolled slowly off his tongue or maybe it was just my imagination. “You picked it up pretty fast.”
“Thanks.”
We stood for a minute in the cold, staring ahead at the line. It was moving, but not very quickly.
“So you said you didn’t play hockey,” I started. “Do you play any other sports? Or is it just MMA?”
He looked off in the distance as if thinking. “Just MMA. I started boxing when I was pretty young and did wrestling in high school, but now it’s just MMA.”
“Those all sound violent.”
He stared at me for a second, then laughed quietly. I felt like he was trying to figure out if I was being serious with that observation. “Yeah, they’re all violent.”
“Why do you do it? You don’t seem like a super angry guy. Or maybe I just don’t know you well enough . . .”
“I’m not an angry guy.”
“So why?”
“Why not?” His tone indicated his response was a genuine question.
> It was my turn to laugh. “Most people don’t volunteer to get punched in the face!”
He shrugged. “That’s true. I guess I like training, I like the guys at the gym, and I really like testing myself against someone else. It’s one-on-one, ya know? When you get into the ring with a guy who’s been training just as hard as you and you beat him, it feels pretty awesome.”
“There are plenty of other one-on-one sports,” I said. “Like tennis.”
“What, so I can get beat by some prick named Davis whose parents got him lessons at the country club when he was four? Fuck that.” He looked at me, a fire in his eyes I’d never seen before. “Fighting’s what I did growing up and it’s what I’m good at. That’s why I do it. Getting punched in the face sucks, but so do a lot of things.” His chest moved in and out as he took a deep breath. “Plus the money helps with school and stuff.”
The passion in his voice startled me; I would give a lot to care about anything as much as he cared about fighting. It felt like he thought of the world in terms of us versus them. For now, I was happy to be considered part of the “us.”
“I guess it also gets you a lot of girls,” I said, noticing that a few girls were stealing not-so-secret glances in our direction.
His eyes narrowed and a small smile crept onto his face. “Are you still thinking about Catelyn and Melissa?”
My chest tightened and I could feel my pulse quicken. “You know the other one too?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, she’s just quiet most of the time. Why does it matter? You can’t seriously be jealous of them.”
“Of course not!”
“Then what?”
“I’m not jealous, Hunter,” I said as convincingly as I could. “I was just noticing how there’s girls around here that look like they’d be down for a threesome with you as well, maybe even a moresome. It reminds me of the fan girls I saw during your fight. It seems like you have quite a fan club.”
“Does it bother you that girls watch me fight?” he tried once more, a sly grin on his face.
“No!”
He watched me for a moment as I tried to keep a straight face. “Okay,” he said finally. “Yeah, girls like to watch me fight. I guess that’s a perk.”
I kept my silence since any interest I had in the subject seemed to be interpreted as jealousy. Why was it so hard to be just friends with a guy who was attractive? Okay, Hunter was a little more than just attractive and maybe that was the problem. The line moved until we were just inside the door. I rubbed my hands together to warm them up. It was cold outside and it was cold inside as well. I was beginning to question why we were getting ice cream in the middle of winter but then remembered that the taste of Clyde’s ice cream was awesome in any season.
“I don’t really get close with them, though.”
I blinked. “What? Who?”
“The girls who watch me fight. I don’t really get close to them.”
Why would he need to? I wanted to say there was no point since he could sleep with whichever girl—or girls, apparently—he wanted, but I managed to bite my tongue. Instead, I kept it simple. “Yeah, I noticed you like to keep on the down-low. But why not get close to them?”
“I don’t know, it all feels like bullshit. Like they just want to sleep with me so they can say they’ve slept with a cage fighter. I don’t know, girls are complicated.”
“I have to admit, sleeping with a cage fighter is not one of my fantasies.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, you seem different.”
My face heated. I put my head down and the hood on my sweatshirt up as if I was cold, hoping he wouldn’t notice. He’d mentioned before that he thought I was different and a weirdo but I didn’t know what he meant exactly. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know, you just seem different.”
“Like I’m not complicated?”
He scoffed. “I didn’t say that. If anything, you seem even more complicated!” He chuckled lightly. “Maybe that’s one reason why I find you so interesting.”
“I guess I’ll take that,” I replied, musing his response.
Finally, we were at the front of the line. I ordered a banana split and Hunter got a milkshake.
“Together or separate?” the cashier asked, smiling at Hunter. She wore her hair back and had horn rimmed glasses.
“Together,” Hunter said before I could speak.
I wanted to argue with him, but I didn’t want to make a scene and hold everyone else up, so I just glared. He seemed oblivious as he gave the cashier a twenty-dollar bill and got his change back. We spotted a couple leave their table in the back and we dashed to take it before anyone else could.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” I said once we’d sat down.
“Done what?”
“Paid for the two of us like we’re a couple. I told you, we’re just friends.”
“What? Friends can’t buy each other ice cream? I just wanted to do you a little favor after you came to the hockey game with me on such short notice.”
I thought of it more as him doing a favor to me by inviting me, but whatever. “Fine. I’m getting it next time, though. I know you’re purposely trying to build up my debt to you.”
He chuckled. “You’re reading ulterior motives into my chivalry. I like that though. You’re being honorable and you’re also trying to keep me honest.” He sipped on his milkshake. “It’s cute.”
My cheeks flustered from the compliment. I opened my mouth to protest but he spoke first. “I do love this place though.”
Calming down, I took a bite of my banana split and my brain took a brief trip into flavorland. It was every bit as good as I remembered. “Yeah, Clyde’s is definitely one of the highlights of this town.”
“So,” he said. “I feel like you know all kinds of stuff about me, but I don’t know that much about you.”
I shrugged. “What do you want to know?”
“Well, you know I like training and fighting. What do you like to do when you’re not learning about new sports?”
“I don’t know. Watching trashy shows on TV, hanging out with my suitemate Daniela . . . I guess the latest thing I enjoy doing is drawing.”
“Drawing?”
“Yeah, I’m in a class for it right now. It’s my favorite by a longshot.”
“That’s cool. If I recall, you do have an active imagination—cats and all.” He grinned.
“Dude, I totally saw that cat! I swear I wasn’t making that up.”
“Sure,” he said, giving me a wink and taking another sip of his milkshake.
“You’re really giving me a hard time about that aren’t you?”
“If I was really giving you a hard time, you’d know it,” he teased.
“Sure,” I said with a smile, mimicking his sarcastic remark. I couldn’t help but admire Hunter’s ability to turn an objection into a flirtatious suggestion. I took another bite of my delicious banana split, half-wondering if I could keep my guard up around him the longer I spent with him.
He smiled, apparently pleased by my comeback. “So what do you like to draw?”
My mind flew to the drawing of the hammer I had been doing the previous week in Muller’s class. “Lots of stuff. I don’t know.”
“The only art I know anything about is tattoos. Do you draw any designs like that?”
My brows shot up as I scrambled to decide whether I should tell him about the tattoo of his I had been sketching out last week. I kind of wanted him to roll up his sleeve so I could see how close I had come. “I think I’ve tried a few designs like that before.”
“Do you have any, by the way?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Nope. Virgin skin over here.”
He cocked an eyebrow and my face grew hot. “That’s not what I meant,” I said shrilly. I reached over the table to smack him on the arm.
He caught my hand before it could find its target. I gasped at both his quick reflexes and the warmth of his touch.
He sq
ueezed my fist gently. “I have a lot of practice at that, ya know. MMA fighter and all.”
I tried to pull my hand back but he held on.
“How are your hands, still cold?” he asked, bringing his other hand around mine and bringing them to rest on the table.
My chest tightened and I felt my face getting even warmer. “I don’t know,” I said. “Can I have my hand back please?”
“It’s feels like ice. Don’t you want to warm it up, just for a minute?”
I looked down and steadied myself. “No, I think I’ll be okay.”
He let my hand go and shrugged, leaning back. “Alright, just trying to help a friend out.”
“It was appreciated,” I said quickly then dug into my ice cream.
“So we were talking about your drawing,” he said after a minute. “If you don’t do tattoos, what kind of artist do you want to be?”
I looked up from my banana split, glad to have some time to think. What did I want to be? I didn’t really know. The furthest ahead I would allow myself to think was the end of the semester. Getting to the end of the semester intact would be an accomplishment.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Still figuring that out. I’m really just focused on the present right now, to be honest.” I had another bite. “What about you? What do you want to do? Did you always dream of being a cage fighter?”
He scoffed and looked down, then over my shoulder, eyes unfocused. I looked back but saw nothing that could have caught his attention, so I turned my gaze back to him. “Earth to Hunter,” I said, waving my hand in his face.
As if coming out of a trance, he blinked and shook his head. “I’m focused on the present too. Just this minute, I think it’s pretty great, actually.” He smiled warmly.
Hunter and I finished our desserts then we got some root beer floats as an after-dessert dessert. I had a good time hanging out with Hunter. We laughed and teased one another a lot. It wasn’t until I got back to my dorm at two in the morning, drunk on root beer floats that I realized I hadn’t thought about my past the entire night. That damn immovable stone hadn’t been anywhere in sight. For a few hours, I’d felt like a normal college girl hanging out with her guy friend on a Friday night.