“It is, but maybe you can experience it for yourself.”
Ha. As if.
Silja finishes her sentence right as the teams skate to center ice, and I wonder if she timed her loaded statement so I’d be too distracted to reply.
Erik and Nils get some ice time in the first period, but neither of them score. Nor does anyone else on the ice. I dart to the washroom, and when I get back to the seats after a tipsy walk, I find Silja browsing the drink menu on the Alvik Rink app right as the second period starts.
“I thought you said that the drinks in here were overpriced,” I say.
She looks up at me before dividing her attention between the game and the menu. “They’re overpriced, sure, but what was that you said earlier about liquid courage?”
I huff out a laugh. “Honestly, I should cool it for now. I’ll end up drunkenly mauling him as soon as I see him after the game.”
Her posture softens. “Aww, that would be so sweet,” she says. “Quadruple shot for Luke?”
“Oh my god.”
Silja’s expression turns serious as she puts her phone down. “Still, if you want to take a break, I won’t force you. Just putting that out there.”
I glance back at the ice right as a coach calls for a line change. Nils and Erik hop the boards, and Nils takes possession of the puck.
“Hold that thought,” I say. “It’s getting good.”
Erik and the other forward, Axel, are close behind Nils as he races toward the goal. Malmö’s defense is scattered, trying to catch up, but they’re too slow.
Nils passes to Erik, who scores.
Silja and I cheer at the top of our lungs, joining the chorus of excited Alvik fans while the team swarms Erik. Even with his helmet in the way, I can see him smiling widely. Warmth settles in my stomach, and it isn’t from the alcohol.
Turning to Silja, I make a decision. “Erik scored and Nils made an assist. I think that calls for a celebration. This one’s on me.”
“Thanks, but I’ll get the next one.”
While scrolling through the drink options, I find a cider that I recognize from back home and order two of them, which we get close to the end of the second period. Silja stares at her can, opens her mouth, closes it, and then opens it again. “Luke. You got the extra strong ones.”
I inspect the can, and even though I can’t read most of the words, I’m pretty sure that 8% means the same thing in every language.
“Erik Norberg, prepare to get mauled,” I joke, taking a sip.
Silja chokes on her drink. “I love how you’re owning this, Luke.”
Still paying attention to the game, I reply without thinking. “Erik can ownme.”
Maybe my original plan to act cool around Erik won’t happen. Not that I care.
Unfortunately for Malmö, nobody else scores and the game ends with Alvik winning. Silja and I stay seated, waiting for the crowd to disperse before we head out to meet the team.
“How long does it usually take them to get ready?” I ask Silja.
“Half an hour, so they should be coming soon.”
Sure enough, Nils shows up in a green sweater and black jeans, rushing over to Silja and giving her a hug.
“Is Erik with you?” Silja asks.
“Nah. He got pulled into an interview.”
“Hmm, yeah. Everyone on TV wants to get an eyeful of Erik,” I say. “Not that I’m jealous. We aren’t dating or anything.”
