The Attack Zone (Slap Shot #2)

21. Stacey

CHAPTER 21

STACEY

LATER THAT DAY

I walk into the bar where Hazel, Cassie, and I usually watch away games with an unusual pep in my step. I guess I really did need to get laid. And boy, have I been getting laid. I spent every night with Mitch this past week until he had to fly to his game in Buffalo. The playoffs start next week, and the Blizzards already clinched their place in them, but knowing these guys like I do, they aren’t going to let up the gas tonight even if they technically could.

I see Hazel and Cassie at the bar and cross the room towards them. There’s already a vodka cranberry waiting for me at the open seat between them.

“Stacey!” Hazel says as she jumps out of her seat and gives me a hug. I may not be a hugger normally, but I put up with it for Hazel because she’s lovely and I can’t bear to break her heart like that. Cassie, on the other hand, tips her Diet Coke at me and nods her head as if to say ’sup . I settle into my barstool and reach for my drink.

“What time is puck drop again?” I ask.

“Five-thirty,” Cassie says.

The TVs in the bar are already turned to the local sports station showing the game, though, so when I look up I’m greeted with a massive version of Mitch’s face. My breath hitches in my chest. He’s warming up, firing pucks into the net at an insane speed, and there’s an intensity about him that I’ve seen before. It doesn’t always come out, but when it does, he plays an aggressive game. A thrill shoots up my spine.

Yes , I think. I love when he’s like this.

I ... do?

Have I even paid close enough attention to him before to notice?

Ugh.

Apparently I have, but now is not the time or place to examine that so I just pull out my phone to distract from the very strong attraction I’ve evidently always felt towards my now-friend with benefits. The problem is, Mitch’s name is on my screen. I have a text from him.

Mitch: Hey, love. You watching the game tonight?

It must be a from a few minutes before he got on the ice while I was walking to the bar. I type out a reply and hit send, assuming he might be able to see it during the first intermission.

Stacey: Yeah, I’m out with Cassie and Hazel. You had better play well tonight. Don’t make me waste an evening on you.

I slide my phone into my purse and turn back to the TV. Now the camera is on Thomas. I glance over at Hazel, and she may as well have replaced her eyes with heart emojis with the way she’s beaming up at him.

“You could just ask him out, you know,” I say under my breath.

Her head flips towards me quickly, “I ... what? ”

“You clearly have a thing for King,” I say. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Uh ... I do not have a thing for him, first of all,” she says. “But if I did, he could reject me because I’m a single mom, or because he just isn’t interested, and then the whole group will be thrown into chaos.”

“Whatever you say,” I say.

“Shhhhh,” Cassie hisses at me from my other side. “The puck is about to drop.”

I look up at the screen and see our left wing and captain, Grant Lance, taking the face-off. Thomas may be our star center, and one of the best forwards to play the game, but he’s actually kind of terrible at face-offs.

Lance wins us the face-off and the game is off and running. Every time Mitch is on the ice, he’s playing with the exact aggression I expected. He’s being so strong with his hits and when the Blizzards get a power-play, he winds up running it instead of Caleb. His play leads to a power-play goal that puts the Blizzards up 2–0 at the end of the first period.

A few moments after the guys return to the dressing room, my phone buzzes in my purse. I try to reach for it calmly, but I really hope it’s Mitch replying to my snarky text from before the game.

Mitch: Have I ever wasted a night of yours?

He follows it with a winking emoji and a heart. I start to feel an ache deep and low. I reach for my vodka cranberry in an attempt to get a grip and almost knock it over. One mention of how we’ve been spending our nights and I’m completely thrown off-kilter. What is happening to me?

Stacey: I suppose not ... I do like how aggressive you’re being tonight.

Mitch: You ... what?!

Stacey: I do know a little bit about hockey .

Mitch: That might be the hottest phrase I’ve ever seen from you.

Stacey: I thought you liked it best when I said your name ... Mitch.

Mitch: Dammit, love. Now I’m thinking about it.

Stacey: Good. Use that energy in the second period.

“Who are you texting like the world is ending?” Hazel asks.

I look up and see both her and Cassie staring at me. I guess we were typing back and forth sort of fast. Shit.

“Nobody,” I lie.

“Sure ...” says Hazel.

“As long as it’s not that Greg guy,” Cassie says, turning back to the TV, which is currently showing her fiancé on the bench getting ready for the second period.

“We call him Evil Greg so it isn’t confusing,” I say before I think better of it.

“We?” asks Hazel.

“Oh ... uh ... yeah,” I mumble. “Mitch and I decided it would be too confusing to have a Greg and Greggs.”

“Since when do you call him ‘Mitch’?” Hazel asks.

Goddammit. This is not how this night was supposed to go. Why am I losing my ability to be a fully functioning human right now?

“That’s his name,” I say.

Hazel turns back towards the TV and takes a sip of her beer. “Whatever you say,” she says.

After a few moments of awkward (for me, at least) silence, the puck is dropping for the second period. Mitch doesn’t get quite as much ice time, probably because his coach wants to rest the top lines for the playoffs, but when he is out there, he’s being a menace to the other team’s forwards and making some solid offensive plays in the process. He even lands one insane hit on a Buffalo player that makes him seem like a bulldozer .

By the time the second period is over, the score is 5–2 with the Blizzards winning. I imagine that Mitch will get even less play time in the third since they’re up. Since when do I track Mitch’s ice time? Good lord, I need to calm down. I’m just fucking this guy, after all.

I pull out my phone to text Mitch again, this time trying to be more nonchalant as I do. I pretend to scroll Instagram first, but then I see that the Blizzards’ social media team posted a few photos of the guys walking into the arena today. I swipe to see if there are any of Mitch. When I land on it, I almost have a guttural reaction. He looks fucking delicious. He’s in a blue suit with a wool coat over the top. The suit pants fit him perfectly, which isn’t surprising given how well-tailored I’m learning all of his clothes are. He has what I’m sure is a decaf coffee in his hand, based on how late in the day it is on the east coast. He looks effortlessly cool and if I was in his vicinity I’d have a hard time not climbing him like a tree. Just when I realize I’ve been staring at his photo for far too long, my phone buzzes.

Mitch: Have I wasted your night so far?

Stacey: I’m secure enough in myself to be able to admit that you have not.

Mitch: Good.

I’ve heard him say those words before, in a very different context, and I nearly fall out of my chair when I read them.

Stacey: Nice hit by the way.

He sends back a laughing emoji before another text appears.

Mitch: Just doing my job.

Mitch: Gotta go, Coach is yelling at me. Lol.

The rest of the intermission is filled with laughing and nachos, until Cassie gets up to go to the bathroom. Once she’s out of earshot, Hazel turns to me.

“Alright, spill,” she says .

“Spill?” I ask, pretending to not have a clue what she’s talking about.

“What the hell happened with you and ‘Mitch’?” she says, putting air quotes around his name.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say. I turn back to the TV and mentally beg the game to start up again. The clock says there are still three minutes left until it will, though.

“Cut the shit,” she says. “I saw the two of you get into the elevator together at the gala. I had to lie to my kid and say you were going to the business center to print off some ‘important official documents’.”

I don’t move. I don’t say a word. I just stare at Hazel, mouth agape. I can’t believe she saw us. I can’t believe she knows. I can’t believe anyone knows.

Finally, when I’ve regained some semblance of the ability to think, I say, “You can’t tell Cassie.”

“I won’t. If you tell me what happened.” She has this mischievous look on her face and it’s terrifying.

But I cannot have more people find out about this, so I grind my teeth together and let out a sigh. “We may have hooked up,” I say. “And we might be continuing to do ... that. But it’s not, like, a thing. Not a real thing, anyway.”

What am I saying? What does that even mean?

“Ohmygodfinally,” she says all at once, as if it’s one word.

“What do you mean ‘finally’?” I ask.

“I mean ... You’ve clearly wanted to jump that man’s bones for like a year,” she says.

“I have not!” I say. It’s too loud and too defensive and even I don’t believe myself when I say it. But that would mean that I have wanted to get with Mitch for ... a while. And admitting that isn’t something I’m willing to do. Even admitting it to myself is out of the question.

“Have not what?” Cassie says from behind me.

Shit .

“Nothing,” I say.

“Oh look, it’s Caleb!” Hazel says, pointing at the TV. Cassie’s eyes fly to the screen and a goofy smile appears on her face.

I turn to Hazel and mouth Thank you at her silently. She winks back at me. At least I’ve got her on my side with this whole thing. I’m not sure I could handle everyone else knowing, too.

The third period starts with the Blizzards still ahead, and that means that Buffalo is getting more and more aggressive. About ten minutes in, a Buffalo defenseman slams Thomas into the boards from behind. It’s clearly an illegal hit, but the refs don’t call anything. The camera pans over to the bench and I can see Mitch sitting there, fuming. He’d be pissed for any teammate, but Thomas is his best friend, and he could be seriously injured. He had to leave the game and go back to the dressing room to be checked out, so we don’t know yet.

After the refs argue with Lance for a few moments, the game restarts. The lines change and Mitch is out on the ice. I’m not sure if the Coach planned it this way or not, but Mitch skates down to the offensive zone and starts aggressively defending the Buffalo player who boarded Thomas. The guy gets passed the puck despite Mitch’s great coverage and starts to move towards the net, but Mitch maneuvers around him and (legally) checks him into the boards. The guy loses the puck and Lance recovers it. As Lance starts towards the blue line, the Buffalo player shoves Mitch. Mitch’s head snaps back towards him as he grabs the guy’s sweater. Then, he pauses, skates backward a bit and drops his stick and gloves to the ground. The eyes of the other player go wide, but he drops his gloves and skates forward.

“Oh shit,” I gasp. I don’t even realize I’ve said it out loud until Hazel’s hand is on my leg.

The guy takes a swing at Mitch, but Mitch is able to grab his sweater again and pulls him in. Then he lands a punch right on the guy’s eye. He does it again. And again.

“Damn, not bad, Greggs,” Cassie, who’s a boxer in addition to being a teacher, says.

But the other guy is able to pull away and lands a hit right on Mitch’s nose. I might be wrong, but I think he maybe drew some blood.

Mitch doesn’t seem to mind though, because he launches himself at the guy and suddenly, they’re both on the ground.

“Fuck yeah!” one bar attendee yells.

“Come on, Mitch,” I say under my breath. “Finish him.”

There’s a sea of arms and legs and blood on the ice before the refs blow the whistle and start to pull them apart. Once he’s back up standing, Mitch skates towards the bench as he seems to bask in the boos from the Buffalo fans.

I’ve never been simultaneously terrified and turned on in my life, but I have to imagine that’s what this is, because there’s no other way to describe the complete rush of adrenaline I have running through me. I pull out my phone and try to think of what to text him. I don’t know why but I feel like I want him to know I was cheering him on from afar, which is weird because a week ago I would have hated for him to think I was even watching him play.

Stacey: Holy fuck. That was wild. How’s your nose?

The game clock runs out with far less excitement in the last few minutes and the Blizzards win. Once Mitch and the rest of the team have made their way back to the dressing room, the TV announcer says that they’ll be doing a post-game interview of Mitch.

“I’m outta here,” Cassie says. “I have school early tomorrow.”

“Same,” says Hazel.

“I’m just ...” I pause, looking for a reason to stay and see Mitch’s interview, “... going to finish my drink. ”

Cassie waves goodbye as she gathers her things while Hazel gives me a hug and a wink.

A wink. Good lord, I’m going to kill her.

Once they’re both gone, I turn back to the TV. The announcer is talking about Thomas’ potential injuries when they cut to the dressing room.

“Unfortunately, Mitch Greggs isn’t able to join us after all,” the reporter says. “We’re joined instead by Caleb Mack.”

What the hell? What’s going on? Caleb never takes interviews if he can avoid them. Is Mitch okay?

I reach for my phone and pull up my text thread with Mitch. He hasn’t replied.

Do not double-text this man , I tell myself. But what if something’s wrong? What if his nose is broken? Or worse?

Stacey: Are you okay? They said you couldn’t do the interview.

I decide to be a responsible adult for the first time in a while and go home instead of sitting in a bar by myself on a random Thursday night. The bar is just a few blocks from my apartment, so I’m walking through my front door when my phone buzzes.

Mitch: Yeah, I’m okay. Just didn’t feel up for an interview so Caleb covered for me.

Mitch: And my nose is fine, just a bit bloody. Hopefully not too much of a turnoff for you to see me act like a caveman.

Turn off ?

He has no idea the effect that seeing him stand up for his best friend seems to have had on me.

Stacey: I think I’ll be able to get past it.

Mitch: Good.

I sit down on my couch and watch the speech bubble showing that Mitch is typing appear and disappear a few times before another text comes through.

Mitch: It’s cute that you were worried about me .

Cute?

Worried?!

Shit.

I type out a reply and hit send before I can stop myself.

Stacey: I just wanted to be sure I can still sit on your face without causing permanent damage.

The speech bubble appears again, this time lasting for even longer than before. Finally, my phone buzzes.

Mitch: Jesus, love. I’m in a dressing room full of dudes right now. At least wait to sext me until I’m back at my hotel.

I didn’t mean to sext him, but I guess that’s sort of what I did. Oops. I need to find a way out of this, or I’ll end up actually sexting with this guy. Not that that would be a bad thing, but now Hazel knows and she got in my head. Have I really wanted to get with Mitch this whole time? No. That wouldn’t make any sense. Up until very recently I hated the guy. Even now, he still drives me a little nuts.

Stacey: As fun as that sounds, I have an early meeting tomorrow.

It’s not untrue ... I do have a meeting with a client. I’m totally prepared for it and I don’t actually have to go to bed early, but there’s a part of me that feels like if I do this with Mitch, we’ll be crossing out of friends-with-benefits territory and into something different. I’m not sure why.

Mitch: That’s a shame.

Stacey: Lol. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.

There’s a speech bubble again. I decide to make my way to my bedroom to get ready to sleep. I might as well get some extra rest since I told Mitch I needed to. Finally, my phone buzzes.

Mitch: I’ll pick you up as soon as I’m back from the airport. But just a heads up, I won’t be able to hang out late after our planning meeting.

That’s odd. We’ve been hooking up every single night. I wonder what he has going on ... Maybe some kind of team event or something.

Or a date. I mean, who am I to judge if he has a date. We’re just friends, right?

Stacey: Okay, sounds good. Goodnight, Mitch.

Mitch: Goodnight, love.