It was so weird attending a game Drew Stefano was not playing in.

The Newport Beach Seagulls were scheduled to play the Seattle Sounders. It was the week before the big AllStar Game and there were two games before the break. This meant Stefano wouldn’t play until after the break, which meant a week off the ice. He would only be able to attend that masquerade party the Gulls always put on this weekend before the break.

It was a Thursday game. Seattle was visiting. They were good this year. I wouldn’t be surprised if they made the playoffs - they usually did. It was a division rivalry game so there was a chippy edge to it. That was what made Drew Stefano so fun to watch against them; Seattle was typically a big team, while Stefano was fast. It wasn’t surprising to see Stefano skating circles around the team. He usually played well against them, earning at least a point.

My three girlfriends and I all put in for season tickets together in the two hundred section. We got seats next to each other so we were in the second row from the glass in the section where our goalie - Brandon Thorpe - defended twice. It wasn’t in the center, it was closer to the edge of the circle portion of the ice rink. Stefano was one of my favorite players and one of the reasons why I wanted seats so close to the glass. He was the fastest skater in the NHL, even at thirty-one. A couple of the younger rookies would probably take the title from him this year, but I didn’t care.

“I’m going to grab some popcorn,” I announced to my girlfriends after we settled in front of the glass, about five minute before warmups began.

I headed to the concession stand right outside our section. My debit card was in my jean pocket, ready to buy my food, probably my second favorite thing next to hockey.

I texted my friends as I waited in line. Kyle Underwood, my second favorite player, was doing stretches and they were taking pictures for me and sending them to me via text with hilarious messages. By the time it was my turn to order, I only had a moment to figure out what it was I wanted.

A hand waved me over and I recited my usual order - popcorn, water, and m&ms - in my head, before I stood in front of Drew freaking Stefano.

I blinked, not quite believing it was really him. When I opened them again, there he was, in a sharp suit, looking at me with his warm brown eyes, moving his mouth.

I shook my head. “I’m sorry?” I asked, cocking my head to the side.

His lips quirked up, but I could see there was slight impatience glimmering in his eyes before it disappeared and was replaced by... was that recognition? As in, he knew who I was? Probably because I was in the second row for every game. 

“I said,” he repeated, his voice tainted with a slight Canadian accent even though he had been with Newport for the past six years of his career and had gone to college to play hockey for the University of Michigan. “What can I get for you?”

“Oh.” I blinked. “Um, can I get a popcorn, a water bottle, and a box of m&ms? Please?”

He gave me a small smile that made my heart jump.

Drew Stefano was gorgeous in a subtle way. He wasn’t tall. If I had to guess, I would say he wasn’t taller than five foot ten - and he was lean. Muscled but not bulky. His size was one of the reasons why he was the fastest skater in the NHL.

He wore a fitted charcoal suit with a blue collared shirt tucked into matching slacks. His dark hair was styled so that his subtle Italian curls were contained.

He grabbed everything quickly and rang me up. I gave him the cash I carried and watched as it took him a few moments longer then experienced cashiers might have taken. That was okay though; I enjoyed watching him, the strong jaw, the small chin, the sweeping cheekbones.

I grabbed my stuff, prepared to head back to my seat and tell my friends what happened, when he stopped me.

“I see you at every game,” he said. I could tell he was hesitant in talking to me, which I understood. There was a decent line behind me and I was sure people in front of the line recognized Stefano and wanted to be helped by him. “Your family have season tickets?”

I shook my head, clutching my fingers around the cool water bottle. “No,” I told him. “I do, though.”

His eyebrows shot straight up in surprise, but there was approval glinting in his eyes. The more I stared into them, the more I realized they were a honey color.

“Listen,” I said, “this isn’t any of my business, and I’m sure you’ve gotten this a lot, but your suspension was absolute bullshit. Regardless of your non-violent history or your impressive iron man streak, the fact of the matter was you didn’t intentionally hit Kerchuck in the head. It wasn’t a vicious play. Maybe a fine, sure... but two games is bullshit.”

I felt myself flush when I finished. I probably overstepped my bounds and made myself look like an asshole. Part of me didn’t care. I wanted him to know it, even though I was certain I wasn’t the first person to tell him this. 

“Anyway,” I forced myself to say, and with my hands filled with food, I nodded my head to home. “Thanks for your help. I look forward to seeing you on the ice soon.”

I didn’t want to wait to hear him respond. I wasn’t sure what he would say, if he was going to say anything at all, but the game was going to start… and I had said what I needed to, so I was okay.

The entire way to my section, I could swear I felt a pair of eyes on my back.