And the more we walked, the more people noticed us. There seemed to be a general buzz as we passed, almost as if the word of Connor’s appearance was being spread just ahead of us.
My body was tense, prepared for anything, but everyone seemed to be really…nice.
No flying beer, no booing.
“Hey, Connor!” “What’s up, Cunningham?” “Nice gamelast weekend.” It was like he had an ice rink full of buddies as we made our way toward our seats.
And his fans had smiles for me.
It was the polar opposite of the way I’d been received post-Carl and I couldn’t quite believe it.
The puck dropped right as we got seated, and I quickly discovered Connor was the best person to watch a game with. He was over-the-top into it, but not in a way that involved angry spittle or shouting (like it sometimes did with my family).
I managed to completely forget about his fame and fans as we both got lost in the game.
“That was a fucking hit, holyshit,” he said, watching the replay of the board-check on the big screen as the first period ended.
“That guy should be in the box,” I replied with a nod. “It was a bullshit no-call.”
“Right?”
“It’s like they brought their own refs.”
“You sound exactly like Tony.” His blue eyes twinkled as he grinned down at me.
My heart stuttered as he delivered that way-too-charming smile from point-blank range. “Please don’t make me push you down when I’m just starting to get my groove back.”
“You’d Carl me?” he asked. “For comparing you to your dad?”
“Listen, I love my father, but the way he yaps at sporting events is a whole thing. I’ve spent my entire life apologizing to the people around us for his language and his ‘passion.’ ”
“What’s his go-to line?” he asked.
“Oh, he’s got a few,” I said with a grin, kind of missing mydad a little as I thought of his ridiculousness. “But his favorite is probably ‘Hey, ref, you might be able to actually see the play if your head wasn’t so far up your ass.’ ”
Connor let out a booming laugh as I held up two fingers to the beer guy coming up the steps.
“Are you going to embarrass me by paying for my beer?” he teased.
I looked up at him. “Are you going to be embarrassed by a woman paying for your beverage? Say it ain’t so, Cunningham, because that’s a red flag surrounded by a hundred red flags, buried underneath a red flag at half-mast, memorializing what a douchey red flag move it would be to care about antiquated dating conventions.”
“Holy shit, Distefano, it was a joke,” he said, laughing and bringing his hands up in surrender. “But now I’m a little afraid of you.”
“As you should be,” I said as I paid for our beers.
It was impossible not to smile as I attempted to hand him his beer, but before he grabbed it, the smartass took a second to put both hands over his heart and say with total overexaggeration, “Forme? Oh, thank you so much, woman-with-money.”
I completely forgot about our plan to “be adorable” and just had a blast taking in the game with him. Honestly, I forgot all aboutwhohe was for the entire second period as he gave me shit about, well,everythingand we commiserated over the team’s failure to score.
Until the kiss cam.
12
Connor
Not the kiss cam.
The second I saw the bit show up on the screen, I justknewit was going to land on us.