Wrecked by Priscilla West Page B

friends.” He flashed his boyish grin at me and I couldn’t help but smile
back.
    “Alright,
so what if it was another guy instead of a girl?” I asked, eager to turn this
weird first-hang-out-discussion in my favor.
    “You’d
only focus on one guy. I don’t see you wanting to please two at the same time.”
    “Fair,” I
said, thinking about the implications. “I don’t think I can argue with you
there, but I’m confused about something. Based on what you’ve said, you
wouldn’t be a good threesome partner either. You strike me as the lone wolf
type yourself: clean apartment, solo walks, ignoring your adoring female fans.
How do you do it then? How can you get along with people in a threesome?”
    His eyes
widened unexpectedly. “I’m shocked that you would even suggest I’ve ever had a
threesome before!”
    I rolled
my eyes. I knew I wasn’t going to tease any details out of him—not that I
particularly wanted to hear them anyway. Hunter was certainly keeping to his
word that he kept his private matters to himself. It was a good thing as far as
I was concerned, and I certainly wouldn’t have guessed he’d be that type of
person based on my first impression of him.
    Hoping to
move onto a less awkward topic, I said, “These are nice seats, by the way.”
    Hunter
popped a nacho in his mouth, chewed it, and swallowed. “Yup, one of the perks
of going to games every year for four years. Best seats in the house.”
    “So they
give you better seats if you’ve been to more games?”
    “Pretty
much. It kind of works on seniority, and this season it’s my turn to have the
good seats.”
    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