After a career-ending fight, ex-professional-hockey-player-turned-Zamboni-driver Chase Cassidy has never looked back at the sport. He's perfectly content cleaning the ice between periods and chatting with fellow staff members, and running a pub outs...
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Chase
Valentine's Day.
Normally, I would celebrate Valentine's Day in a very anti-love way. I'd grab takeout, some non-alcoholic beer, and binge-watch Netflix until I pass out. Maybe enjoy some chocolate.
But tonight, there's a hockey game. A Saturday night hockey game against Montréal, which creates an epic rivalry between not only the players, but the fans as well. The atmosphere, the echo of passes and slap-shots, cheering—everything is ten times louder. It adds a considerable amount of pressure to my shoulders each time I'm out cleaning the ice. It makes me wear my hat lower to guard my face. But I can feel a stir of excitement in my gut.
I love how indefatigable the crowd is. How committed the team is to winning.
As per usual, I'm watching the game from behind the scenes, blocked by other bystanders and the camera crew. From here, there isn't much to see unless Toronto is in Montréal's zone. The game's been back and forth for the past ten minutes, with chances on both sides.
Katzel, Barlow, and Lennon are working their magic on the first line, causing chaos. But both goalies are standing on their heads tonight. Nothing's getting past either of them and the score is 0-0. Despite the lack of goals, the action has been thrilling.
With three minutes left, Spencer joins me. She's changed out of her work clothes, into clothing more suitable for our date tonight. However, she's still carrying her tote bag that holds her tablet, documents, pens and highlighters, and protein bars. She must have to make another trip up to the office.
She presses a quick kiss to my cheek before dropping her bag to the damp floor. Back here, the air smells of artificial ice and oil, but Spencer's perfume is potent. Today, she's wearing one that smells like vanilla with a hint of musk. She has several unique perfumes, so it's like playing a game of roulette; I never know which one she'll be wearing. And I love it.
"Good game so far, eh?" she asks.
I nod, adjusting my hat. Although we're fairly shaded, there are still people who can see us from the stands. There are other staff and camera crew members here. I'm comfortable with people knowing about Spencer and me, but I'm not ready for the news to break the hockey world yet. I can already imagine the headlines about an ex-hockey player dating the general manager's daughter. They'll frame it like I'm the bad guy and Spencer is an object to be sold.
Spencer clears her throat. "Well, I, uh, just came down here to say I'm looking forward to tonight. Your dates are always unexpected."
I look away from the game and smile at her. "Me too. And do you mean that in a good way or a bad way?"
"A good way," she chuckles. "Definitely a good way. Though I am still upset about your prank."
My cheeks flush a light pink as I rub the back of my neck. Stringing her on about a potential dine and dash wasn't my best moment. She was terrified, and I think she wanted to murder me once I started laughing.
