Page 110 of Burn

“Oh, Lex. Don’t be silly. You know I don’t wear much black, and you’re hiding all of your magic under that hoodie, plus I like to show my dates off!” She recaptures my arm and drags me deeper into the arena. A chill runs through me, and we’re nowhere near the ice, so that’s probably a pretty foreboding sign.

It’s been two months since I left Adrian’s. That day, when I got home, I was so ready to fall apart in my bed, and was beyond devastated when I walked into a completely empty condo. I had assumed insurance would replace everything, which, in hindsight, was stupid. Of course, they wouldn’t go shopping on my behalf. I’d turned around, headed to Walmart, and bought an air mattress, some blankets, and a litter box for Mildred.

It took the better part of a month to fill my place with the necessities. Since then, I’ve worked to make it home. I expectto walk in and feel some semblance of peace any day now. Any. Damn. Day. Not today, but soon.

Fuck.

“Whatcha want to drink?” Rosie asks when we reach the front of the concession line.

“Not beer.”

She smiles and turns her attention to the teenager working. Her legs wiggle while she orders, and I don’t miss the way he speaks directly to her cleavage. I can’t imagine that kind of constant attention, but she loves it, and when she hands me a canned cocktail, she whispers, “Did you see? He couldn’t take his eyes off my tits!”

“Oh, I saw.” I force myself to smile.

The energy in the arena is an electric sea of blue and white jerseys bearing theBushy Beaversmascot. I allow Rosie to lead me toward the ice, my heart rate picking up with every step. We descend the steps toward the ice. She didn’t mention where our seats are, but when she steps up to an usher, he asks to verify her seats, and I realize we’re standing at the entrance to a VIP section.

“Jesus, Rosie. Where are our seats?” I ask.

She flashes me a smile and a wink and points at two empty seats right against the glass, behind the net. She skips down the last few stairs, and when she realizes I haven’t moved, she calls out to me. “Come on, babe! No ditching me now.”

I lift my drink to my lips and chug back half of it. It’s cold and sweet, and it stings my throat as it goes down. When she called to ask about the game, I disconnected myself from my brain and listened to my heart. The last two months have been the loneliest months of my life, and the prospect of seeing Adrian, even through the glass as he plays hockey, gave me hope that I could feel something else.

I lower myself into the seat next to Rosie. These seats are padded and significantly more comfortable than the last seat I occupied for one of Adrian’s games. Overhead, a heater blows warm air onto us. Rosie slips her coat off and sits up in her seat, searching the players warming up on the ice.

“Who you looking for?” I ask.

She bites her bottom lip, looking momentarily nervous. “I’ve been seeing one of the players.”

“Rosie!” I gasp, grabbing her arm. “Who?!”

She shimmies back into her seat and turns to face me. Her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes search mine. “It’s still kind of new, casual. We haven’t really defined anything.”

I’ve been friends with her for a few years, since I moved here, and I’ve never seen her like this over a guy. She looks like a little kid.

“But you like him?” I ask, holding her hands.

She nods.

“Who?! Rose, you gotta tell me! Wait. It’s not…” I can’t even bring myself to say it. I don’t know what I would do if…

It takes her a minute, and when she realizes what I’m asking, her eyes go wide. “Oh god. Lex, I would never! I’m a girl’s girl. It’s Colton. The cop?”

Colton Calloway. One of Adrian’s best friends, and the cop who came to my apartment the night of the break-in. Of the players I’ve met, he seems to be the sweetest, and he’s adorable. Then I remember what the gorgeous blonde in front of me does for a living.

“A cop?” I laugh. “Rosie, that seems a little reckless.”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, don’t remind me. Don’t remind him. We’re enjoying our current state of denial. He tells people I’m in sales. Can you believe that?” She takes a sip of her beer,smiling into the rim of the cup. “I don’t know, Lex. I might consider a career change for him.”

My mouth falls open in shock. “You said it was casual. That’s not a casual consideration.”

The lights in the arena flick off, and a spotlight appears at center ice. We were so absorbed in our conversation that I didn’t notice the ice cleared. Rosie sets her beer down on the ground and claps her hands. The first beat of music plays through the speakers —a low, grungy synth reminiscent of the eighties.

A male voice crackles over the music, “Ladies and gentlemen! We want to welcome you back to beer league hockey with our home opener!” He rolls the ‘r,’ letting it growl at the end. “Without further ado, you know ‘em, you love ‘em, you sure as hell shouldn’t trust ‘em with your sister… yourBushy Beaversare back and taking you to theDanger Zone!”

The arena erupts in cheers, and when everyone stands, I slowly rise to my feet. Fog machines hiss, and blue lights strobe as one player skates into the spotlight. He drops to a knee and proceeds to lip-sync the song, pointing at the crowd. I’m so focused on him that I don’t see the other players take the ice. Rosie grabs my arm and points. “Ah! Look!”

The team falls into a formation, two by two, skating in sync. When they reach the center, they fan out across the ice. It’s perfectly choreographed and so much more organized than the first game. Players spin and pull off their helmets to sing. It’s chaos, in the best way.

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