Free Hockey Is My Boyfriend: Part One by Melanie Ting

the charcoal grey Hugo Boss suit?”
    I’m sorry, how did she know what kind of suit he was wearing from 100 metres away? I wouldn’t know unless he took his jacket off and waved the label in front of me. And then I’d probably be too busy wondering what he might take off next.
    April let out a puff of breath. “Oh my God, he’s absolutely gorgeous. And you won him in a bet?”
    “I didn’t win him in a bet; we started dating on a dare. Anyway, you like?”
    “Oh, I like,” she purred. “Kelly, this is just the right guy for your first time.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “So hot! No wonder you can’t keep your hands off him.”
    “Okay, let’s keep all this girl talk to ourselves when we actually meet him.”
    “I can be discreet! Let’s hope I don’t drool though. You are a lucky, lucky lady.”
    Nicklas and Mark came up to us. “Kelly! Did you see my goal?” asked Nicklas.
    Uh oh, bad girlfriend. “Sorry, I only got to the rink a few minutes ago. I’ve got a game here too, but I came by early to see you.”
    “Ahem,” April interrupted.
    “Oh sorry. Hey Nicklas, Mark, this is April Lachance.”
    “Hello, April, nice to meet you.” Nicklas smiled politely, but then he turned his attention back to me. “Kelly, you’re looking really good today.”
    He dropped his hockey bag, moved in to hug me, and slipped his hands inside my track jacket. He grabbed my waist and pulled me in for a kiss. As he brought me closer, he moved his thumbs up to touch the sides of my breasts, but nobody could tell from outside the jacket. Apparently tracksuits could be sexy. But when he touched me, my nipples got hard, which was pretty embarrassing.
    I wasn’t really into PDAs. Sure, we made out in the car, but doing it in front of everyone was different. So while Nicklas was kissing me and secretly feeling me up, I was uncomfortable. When I finally broke away from him, I should have known that we would have an audience, besides April and Mark. On my right, coming from the rink, was Dave Vanderhauf. He was looking at us and smirking, and he had totally noticed my headlights were on. On my left, Laura Armstrong and her pal, Kelsey Homeniuk, were walking into the arena, along with—drum roll—my coach, Peter Miller. Argh!
    Nicklas was oblivious. In fact, he was saying something about going to his car for a little privacy, but I had to get ready for my game.
    “Gotta go,” I said to him. “Game time.”
    “Yeah, c’mon, Nicklas,” Mark whined.
    “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” Nicklas seemed disappointed he wasn’t getting to explore the dark reaches of my tracksuit.
    “Sure, see ya.” And then I turned to April, “Thanks for the ride. Never taking your fashion advice again.” She smiled sweetly back at me.
    “Nicklas, aren’t you going to stay and watch our game?” asked Laura, who apparently never gave up.
    “Got to go and hit the homework,” he replied, without actually looking at her. “Let’s go, Shell.” And they left in a cloud of Armani cologne.
    My coach looked at me without any expression on his face at all. “Let’s do some laps of the arena before the game. Get the rest of the team organized.”
    I guessed he’d seen it all before.

14

Wreck Room
    “ A re you coming over to watch the Canucks game on Thursday?” Phil asked me, out of the blue.
    We hadn’t said two words to each other since he slammed the door of Nicklas’s car. In the old days, we watched games together anytime we were both free, because I had no cable and a tiny television. My parents had decreed that too much television stunted creativity. I had no creative skills at all, which you would think blew that theory out of the water, but my little brother was creative so it was a wash.
    “Um, I've got practice until 8:00, but I could come over afterwards.” I hadn't really planned on watching the game, but this seemed like a peace offering so I thought I should accept. I missed hanging out with Phil.
    “Okay, I'll