was full throttle ahead.
Nadia had always heard that hockey games were exciting. But nothing could have prepared her for the speed and intensity of the game. It was hard to keep up with the breakneck tempo as players skated up and down the ice, passing the puck and shooting at the net while separate battles unfolded in the corners. There seemed to be so much going on at once. Not surprisingly, she found herself focusing almost exclusively on Reid.
Thirty seconds into the game, she understood why they called him The Rocket. He was insanely fast as he raced across the ice, his eyes blazing behind his helmet as he chased down the puck and aggressively checked opposing players. He moved like lightning and struck like thunder.
At one point during the first period, he slammed an opponent into the boards with enough force to rock the Plexiglas framing the rink.
The crowd roared with approval.
Nadia cringed and covered her eyes with both hands.
Nelson, Bianca and Jess laughed at her.
When she hazarded a peek, Reid and his opponent had lost their helmets and dropped their gloves and were throwing punches at each other. The crowd ate it up, cheering them on like bloodthirsty spectators at a Roman gladiator match.
Reid had the upper hand, landing more blows as the other guy struggled to keep a grip on his jersey. They went at each other until the Minnesota player slid down to the ice, at which point the referee finally intervened. When he sent Reid to the penalty box, the fans protested the call with a hail of boos and jeers.
Reid spat out a mouthful of blood and skated off the ice in disgust, then plopped down in the sin bin with a ferocious scowl. Watching him, Nadia wondered if he was more frustrated with the penalty or with himself for losing his temper. She doubted it was the latter. Brawls were so commonplace in hockey, most players probably didn’t think twice about throwing down.
But for someone as fiercely competitive as Reid, being taken out of the game must have felt like the worst punishment ever. He looked sullen and agitated in the penalty box. Nadia watched, with amusement and sympathy, as he restlessly bounced his right leg and shifted on the bench between glaring up at the scoreboard and watching the game. He was clearly dying to get back into the action. With his face streaked with sweat and his unruly dark hair sticking up, he reminded her of a scrappy kid who’d been put in timeout. Or a big black panther trapped in the world’s smallest cage.
As if sensing her gaze, he suddenly turned his head and looked right at her.
She shivered, goose bumps racing across her skin.
The way he was staring at her told her he liked what he saw, although she couldn’t be completely sure from this distance.
Pulse skipping, she took a sip of her beer, then slowly licked the foam off her upper lip.
Reid’s eyes seemed to narrow.
Smiling, she raised her glass to him.
She thought he winked at her before he turned away and resumed watching the game.
When he’d done his time in the penalty box, he donned his helmet and gloves, then nimbly hopped over the boards to rejoin the action on the ice.
Soon he was back in the mix, wresting control of the puck and snapping it to his teammate. The right wing—or was it left?—took a shot at the net, but Minnesota’s goaltender blocked the attempt.
Reid was nearby, battling for position with the opposing winger. When he saw the puck coming toward them, he lifted his stick and skillfully deflected the puck into the net.
As the red light above the goal flashed on, the crowd went berserk. Nadia jumped to her feet with everyone else, cheering and clapping as exploding rockets flashed across the Jumbotron and Reid skated backward playing air guitar. The fans ate it up, chanting “Rocket, Rocket, Rocket” as he celebrated the goal with his teammates.
Nadia’s heart was pounding, adrenaline flooding her veins. She was almost relieved when the first period ended. She needed to
Nadia had always heard that hockey games were exciting. But nothing could have prepared her for the speed and intensity of the game. It was hard to keep up with the breakneck tempo as players skated up and down the ice, passing the puck and shooting at the net while separate battles unfolded in the corners. There seemed to be so much going on at once. Not surprisingly, she found herself focusing almost exclusively on Reid.
Thirty seconds into the game, she understood why they called him The Rocket. He was insanely fast as he raced across the ice, his eyes blazing behind his helmet as he chased down the puck and aggressively checked opposing players. He moved like lightning and struck like thunder.
At one point during the first period, he slammed an opponent into the boards with enough force to rock the Plexiglas framing the rink.
The crowd roared with approval.
Nadia cringed and covered her eyes with both hands.
Nelson, Bianca and Jess laughed at her.
When she hazarded a peek, Reid and his opponent had lost their helmets and dropped their gloves and were throwing punches at each other. The crowd ate it up, cheering them on like bloodthirsty spectators at a Roman gladiator match.
Reid had the upper hand, landing more blows as the other guy struggled to keep a grip on his jersey. They went at each other until the Minnesota player slid down to the ice, at which point the referee finally intervened. When he sent Reid to the penalty box, the fans protested the call with a hail of boos and jeers.
Reid spat out a mouthful of blood and skated off the ice in disgust, then plopped down in the sin bin with a ferocious scowl. Watching him, Nadia wondered if he was more frustrated with the penalty or with himself for losing his temper. She doubted it was the latter. Brawls were so commonplace in hockey, most players probably didn’t think twice about throwing down.
But for someone as fiercely competitive as Reid, being taken out of the game must have felt like the worst punishment ever. He looked sullen and agitated in the penalty box. Nadia watched, with amusement and sympathy, as he restlessly bounced his right leg and shifted on the bench between glaring up at the scoreboard and watching the game. He was clearly dying to get back into the action. With his face streaked with sweat and his unruly dark hair sticking up, he reminded her of a scrappy kid who’d been put in timeout. Or a big black panther trapped in the world’s smallest cage.
As if sensing her gaze, he suddenly turned his head and looked right at her.
She shivered, goose bumps racing across her skin.
The way he was staring at her told her he liked what he saw, although she couldn’t be completely sure from this distance.
Pulse skipping, she took a sip of her beer, then slowly licked the foam off her upper lip.
Reid’s eyes seemed to narrow.
Smiling, she raised her glass to him.
She thought he winked at her before he turned away and resumed watching the game.
When he’d done his time in the penalty box, he donned his helmet and gloves, then nimbly hopped over the boards to rejoin the action on the ice.
Soon he was back in the mix, wresting control of the puck and snapping it to his teammate. The right wing—or was it left?—took a shot at the net, but Minnesota’s goaltender blocked the attempt.
Reid was nearby, battling for position with the opposing winger. When he saw the puck coming toward them, he lifted his stick and skillfully deflected the puck into the net.
As the red light above the goal flashed on, the crowd went berserk. Nadia jumped to her feet with everyone else, cheering and clapping as exploding rockets flashed across the Jumbotron and Reid skated backward playing air guitar. The fans ate it up, chanting “Rocket, Rocket, Rocket” as he celebrated the goal with his teammates.
Nadia’s heart was pounding, adrenaline flooding her veins. She was almost relieved when the first period ended. She needed to
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