Page 80 of You Had Me at Hockey

“Hey, it’s Josh Heller!”

I hear the boy’s voice behind me.

“Uh-oh. You’ve been made,” I murmur to him.

“Yeah, sounds like.” His smile is wry.

Sure enough, a couple of boys approach Josh for his autograph. He’s charming and courteous. Then some giggling teenage girls come over. They know both of us.

“I can’t believe you two are together!” one girl says. “That is, like, super cool!”

“I’m getting skating lessons from the best,” I say. “Do you watch my videos?”

“Oh yeah! All the time.”

“Well, watch for this one.”

They both stare at Josh with fluttering eyelashes and coy smiles. I don’t blame them. I also love how he’s just as courteous with them as with the boys, and just as platonic.

We’ve done what I need for video, so I wave at Connor and after a few more minutes of fan chat, we skate off the ice.

“My shins hurt,” I complain.

“I’ll massage them for you later.”

“Hmm. A shin massage doesn’t sound very sexy.”

“Is that all you think of?” He takes my arm to lead me to the area I can take off my skates and return them.

“Yes.” I blink innocently at him. “I thought you knew that.”

I get my camera from Connor and thank him for helping.

“I enjoyed it,” he says. “I think there’s lots of fun stuff for you to work with.”

“You’re awesome and I love you!” I kiss his cheek. “Say hi to Eli!”

“I will. Hey, we’re going out Friday night…want to join us?”

I think Josh has away games Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday this week. “Okay! Sounds fun.”

“I’ll text you!” He waves and takes off.

The sun has dropped low and the tall buildings around us cast deep shadows. The wind is picking up and I’m already feeling chilled. “I need something warm to drink,” I say to Josh. “We can get a latte near my place.”

We already arranged for him to come to my place after. I know he likes to have plans in place.

“Youcan get a latte.”

“Right.” We start walking toward the subway station. I slide my arm into his and squeeze his biceps. “You can get a nice cold Coke.”

He chuckles.

The train is crowded, so we press together riding home. We don’t say much, but we watch each other. He keeps his hand on my hip, shifting me out of the way of other people as they move on and off the train, protecting me with his big body. Eventually we get off at 72nd Street, ride the long escalator, and emerge onto the darkening street. We have to go just past my place to get to a little Italian coffee shop, where we pick up a latte for me and an Italian hot chocolate for Josh.

“I have so much work to do,” I say, riding the elevator to my floor.

“What else is up for you this week?”

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