Page 25 of Wooing the Wiccan
I check the time. It’s recess, so he should reply soon.
“I can’t hold the tickets that long,” Dáithí warns. “We’ll still be able to get some later, but?—”
My phone chimes.
Jared:
Sounds fun! I haven’t been at all this season. Didn’t even know there was a game tonight. Let’s go.
“He likes hockey,” I tell Dáithí, sending back a quick confirmation. “I guess I’d better learn some stuff about it.”
“Sending you the tickets now,” Dáithí says, and I get a notification a second later. “Start with YouTube, and I’ll find some other resources for you as well,” he promises. “I’ll also screen your calls this afternoon so you can focus.”
“Jared’s really going to like you.” I smile. “Now, do you want my help making Eoin suffer? He’s annoying me to no end lately, so it would be a pleasure.”
Dáithí laughs. “That’s a kind offer, sir, but I’ve got it in hand. He needs to go through the stages of torture to prove his worthiness. It took him too long to realize how epic I am, and I want to know he’s invested and not just in this for a fun time.”
“It’s almost a shame you’re so good on reception,” I muse. “You’d be amazing in one of our strategic teams. If you ever want a change in career?—”
“Thanks, but no,” he replies, not for the first time. We’ve been offering him career development for decades. “The strategic teams don’t get to hear as much gossip as I do.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Jared
I waitin front of the stadium, looking around for Raðulfr. He was going to pick me up from home, but called nearly two hours ago to say he’d been pulled into a late meeting and could I meet him here instead. I assured him it wasn’t a problem, and he swore up and down that he’d be here on time, even if it meant mayhem. It’s such a little thing, but it made me smile.
He’s not late yet, so I lean against the pillar outside door three, using a clever spell Raðulfr taught me to keep myself warm, and watch the excited sports fans around me while I wait. There’s not as many as I would have expected for a home game this late in the season, especially considering how well the local team is doing. There’s also something odd about the crowd. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone wearing local jerseys… or any I recognize. There are plenty of jersey-wearers, but they’re all for teams I’ve never heard of.
On a hunch, I pull out my phone and double-check the season fixture. There’s definitely not an NHL game here tonight. I bring up the website for the stadium and look for the schedule. Maybe it’s an AHL or even ECHL game… though this is a big stadium for them.
Scrolling, scrolling… there it is!Community Hockey League, Warhammers v. Glaives, 7:00 pm.
I blink at my screen a few times. A local community league is playing in a stadium this size? Looking around again, I reassess my earlier thought that the crowd is on the small side. Sure, it won’t fill the stadium, but for a couple of hobby teams, it’s impressive.
Slipping my phone away, I shamelessly eavesdrop on a group of college kids who’ve stopped a few feet away.
“…Warhammers have been totally shit lately. It almost makes me want to switch teams,” one of the bigger guys says.
A smaller, slimmer young man smirks. “You should. The Hammers have built their rep around dominating with size and strength, but everyone knows the best player on the team is Ansas, and he’s half the size of his teammates.”
“Yeah,” someone else adds. I can’t see them around the two big guys, who are both well over six feet tall and built like linebackers. “You should switch to the Glaives. Every one of their players is a precision weapon, just like the team name.”
My brows shoot up. It sounds like this is going to be a heck of a game.
The guys move inside, still arguing about whether a team needs to earn fan loyalty or not, and I go back to studying the crowd. Now that I know what I’m looking for, I easily pick out the Warhammers fans in navy blue and the Glaives fans in lilac. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a hockey team opt for such a delicate color. Normally sports teams pick bold shades, but this definitely isn’t. I kind of like that.
There’s a minor disturbance over toward the road, but when I look, all I see is more people in navy and lilac arriving. There are random others in different jerseys, and I make a mental note to look up this league later and check out the teams. I like the idea of supporting community sports. Maybe?—
My gaze catches on Raðulfr, making his way toward me, and I grin and wave. He waves back, and… people turn to look? That’s weird. I let my hand drop, not wanting to attract attention. It’s probably a coincidence that the people near him turned right then.
I keep my eyes on him as he gets closer, and notice that quite a few people in the crowd say hello and nod to him. I guess he comes to these games a lot, which is even more reason for me to find out more about the league. I wish he’d mentioned sooner that he likes hockey—though I guess I never brought it up either. It’s not like I’m a rabid fan, and when I’m with him, I don’t bother to turn on a game, not wanting him to think my attention is divided. I love that we’re moving past that now—that we’re both confident enough in each other’s feelings that we don’t need to be dancing attention on each other.
I think we’re officially at the boyfriend stage. Or whatever the age-appropriate word is for men in their forties. Actually,isRaðulfr in his forties like me? I assumed, but it’s hard to tell based on his face. He could be anywhere from late thirties to late fifties. Not that it matters, but I should probably find out if he’s got any important birthdays coming up.
One woman nods so deeply to him that it looks almost like she’s bowing, and I bite my lip to stifle a laugh. I bet he’s made some hefty donations to the league. Fans of smaller leagues love the people who help their teams stay solvent.
He reaches me and leans down for a kiss, which I happily return. We keep it low-key, because we’ve both talked about the fact that our jobs don’t allow for highly visible ostentatious PDA. Our make-out session at the back of a cinema felt thrillingly naughty.
