Page 9 of The Love Penalty

After the game, I decided to skip the shower and head straight to the hotel as I was feeling more tired than usual. While Ash, Eli, and Jordan decided to go out, I was in need of a bed. It was pouring rain the whole trip to Ohio and my right knee was flaring up like crazy. I left that part out when I told the guys I was headed back to my hotel room. The last thing I needed was for Ash to make even more fun of me for being old.

Drenched to my bones after making the awful decision to walk the five minutes to the hotel, I entered the hotel lobby only to run into the back of someone. I must have knocked into her pretty hard because she started to fall, but at the last second, I put my arms around her torso and pulled her back into me. Her bag fell off her shoulder to the lobby marble floor and we both stood there for a moment. My arms were still around her and I slowly pulled them away. “Are you okay?” I asked.

“You smell really bad,” she mumbled.

When she turned around I was met by Olivia’s scrunched up face and a panicked gleam in her eyes, like she couldn’t believe she just said that out loud. She relaxed a bit when she realized it was me. And yes, I did smell really bad since I forgoed the shower. I also probably looked like a wet dog after my encounter with the rain.

I gave her a lazy smile and looked at her more closely. She looked sweaty too, like maybe she didn’t shower either after the game. Her hair was in a low ponytail and her green eyes were roaming all over my face.

“You don’t smell that great either. Did the ref locker room not have a working shower?” I teased her with a smile.

She rolled her eyes and bent to pick up her bag from the floor before saying, “I usually skip the locker room showers, or wait until all the guys leave.”

I never thought about the fact that she has to share locker rooms with other guys. I grimaced my apology and she smiled. She actually smiled. Not more than a pull of her lips to the side, but it was perfect. And it was forme.

She looked like she was about to leave so I did my best to keep the conversation going, “Sorry about running into you like that.”

“It’s fine, I was kind of just standing there, distracted by my phone.”

“Are you staying here as well?” I moronically asked.

“As opposed to what? Sleeping under the bridge?” she quipped with amusement in her eyes. I could get behind this feisty Olivia.

“You never know. I don’t like to make assumptions.”

She shook her head but asked, “Are you headed up?”

I nodded and took this for what it was. An invitation to ride the elevator together.

Once we got in, all I could hear was the water dripping off of me and the buzzing of the panel. For the first time in a while, I felt nervous. I didn’t want to say something dumb and spook her away. By the time I figured out a topic of conversation, the elevator dinged, letting me know we were at her floor. She stepped out and said over her shoulder, “Goodnight, Robbie.”

“Goodnight, Olivia.”

Tonight is another away game,this time against the Vermont Vortices. I always despise playing against them. They are a bunch of meatheads, and that says a lot coming from another meathead. They always start fights for no reason at all and fake injuries left and right to draw out penalties against us. It’s ridiculous.

On the bright side, Olivia will be here tonight. For some unknown reason, I want to impress her and show her I’m not only good at my job, but that I am a decent person too. And maybe, just maybe, I can get her to be my friend.

EIGHT

Olivia

The arena is packedto the brim, which I didn’t expect. I did some research and found out that Vermont didn't have a professional hockey team until about four years ago when the Vermont Vortices formed as a lone independent franchise in the AHL. They have been doing fairly well and even made it in the playoffs last year, but they are too hot headed for their own good. They spend a lot of time in the penalty box for taking cheap shots at the opposing team and fighting.

On the one hand, I am ready for some excitement tonight, but on the other, I dread having to assert myself yet again in front of a new-to-me team. So far in the season, I’ve officiated two Grand Marquee Manticores games and I am starting to learn their quirks, who to keep an eye on, who spends the most time in the penalty box, who starts fights. I’ve also officiated two games for the Finchton Foxes, and while the coach still looks at me like I have leprosy, the captain and some of the other players have been respectful towards me and easy to talk to. I also officiated a game for the Chicago Bobcats whichwent surprisingly well. I think that is the first game ever in a professional setting that did not have a single penalty called.

The buzzer goes off, indicating that it’s time to start and all of us officials head out on the ice. We skate around, making sure the nets are in the proper position, and get everyone ready for the puck drop. As soon as the national anthem finishes, we get in the center ice position.

“Hi, Olivia,” Robbie says in that deep voice of his that I haven’t been able to get out of my head since that night at the restaurant. Or the night in Cleveland when he bumped into me and steadied me with his strong arms. I glance at him and find that easy smile on his face, dimples on display and all. I see he has a bit of stubble since last time I saw him.C’mon Olivia, don’t get distracted by his perfect stupid dimples now. You have a job to do.

“Elliot. As soon as I blow this whistle, you have five seconds to get in position or you’re out of the face-off.”

“Yeah, Elliot. Stop flirting with the fresh meat, and play the game. I already know I’ll wipe the floor with you, but you should at least put up a fight,” one of the Vortices players says. Did he just call mefresh meat? While that gets my blood boiling, I let it go. The game hasn’t even started and I’d rather not make an enemy out of this guy right off the bat. I notice his jersey is #42 and realize he’s one of the Vortices forwards, Dustin Mitchell. Based on my research, he spends the most time in the penalty box. No wonder.

Before Robbie can reply, I blow the whistle and since the Manticores are the visiting team, Robbie places his stick on the ice. Right before I drop the puck, Mitchell jumps the gun and places his stick down too, smacking Robbie’s out of position. I snatch my hand back and straighten up.

“Out of the face-off, Mitchell,” I call out. I can hear the crowd booing already but I’m not going to let this slide.

“The fuck? What for?” he yells out.

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