“You’re doing it right now! It’s cute.”
I force myself to stop smiling. “Yeah, okay. Erik and I are?—”
—hooking up?That’s kind of vulgar to say around someone you met five minutes ago.
“—involved. But we can’t be more than friends, unfortunately,” I say.
She doesn’t say anything, and that’s when our drinks arrive. I take a sip of mine and gag. “Oh, god. This is straight up liquor,” I sputter.
“What did you order?” Silja asks, glancing at the order confirmation, and then she snickers. “Luke, you got a drink with three shots in it.”
I tilt my head. “Three?”
Silja nods. “Yup, the receipt says 12 cl, which is three shots. I’m supposed to be teaching you how to drink like a Swede, but you’re doing all of the work for me.”
The alcohol still lingers in my mouth, and against my better judgement, I take another sip. This time, it goes down a lot smoother. “Well, everything is half price before the game, so I guess it works out. Erik said I might meet the team afterward, so I could use some liquid courage.”
In reality, I’ll need some help to act normal around the team while also being around Erik. The last thing I need is to maul him in front of everyone.
“You’ve been in the country for two hours and you’re already thinking like one of us, good job,” Silja says, smiling. “The game starts in a bit, but we should eat something and get more drinks beforehand. Are you okay with splitting a pitcher?”
“Sounds good to me.” I empty my glass, and five minutes later, I find out that Silja didn’t mean a pitcher of beer. It’s a mixed drink that tastes a lot stronger than beer.
Thankfully, Silja doesn’t mention me and Erik again, and eventually, we wrap up. When we pay, I discover that Erik’s multiple dire warnings about expensive Swedish alcohol were mostly over-hyped. My first drink ends up costing around the same as a beer on King Street back home.
Maybe Ishouldmove here. I already work remote anyway?—
No. Stop it.
There’s no time for me to be taken aback by my wandering thoughts because Silja motions for me to follow her.
We settle into our seats right as both teams come out onto the ice and skate around, and Silja points at Nils, who’s hyping up Erik with a shaky side hug.
“Look at that bromance,” she says. “Aren’t they cute?”
“Oh yeah.” I fixate on Erik, because of course I do. They haven’t put on their helmets yet, and I get an eyeful of Erik’s flowing blond hair, recently cut into a neat, short style.
How is his hair shortandflowing at the same time? That shouldn’t be possible.
“Luke, you’re staring.” Silja takes me out of my head, but I keep my gaze fixed on Erik.
“He’s hot,andI have no self-control,” I mumble. It’s true, even though I shouldn’t be dumping these kinds of unfiltered thoughts onto Silja.
We’re sitting right behind the Alvik bench, and the teams skate in, with Nils and Erik giving us a wave. We wave back,smiling, and then our view gets blocked by a swarm of coaches and admin staff.
I groan. “Come on, get out of the way so I can see him.”
“Youreallylike Erik, don’t you?” Silja says, and I nod.
“Guilty as charged.”
We’re interrupted by a concessions worker taking orders, and Silja talks to him in Swedish.
“I’m getting more drinks,” she explains. “We’re in the reserved area for Alvik guests, so someone helps us to take our orders. Perks of dating an athlete.”
The guy taking orders turns to me and I point to a random beer on the menu before tapping my phone to pay.
“Dating an athlete?” I say to Silja. “That must be nice.”
