Author's Note:
Welcome, dear readers, to my first multi-chapter story on this platform! I've actually been working on this for a while, but I got sidetracked by a) wanting to finish the novel I'd been writing since 2011 (which you can find on my FictionPress profile if you're interested) and b) writing the seven short stories I've posted here thus far. The idea for this story came to me back in January and grew into something so detailed that I felt compelled to return to creative writing after a decade-long absence. I'm a big believer in the famous Toni Morrison quote, "if there's a book you want to read, but it hasn't been written yet, then you must write it." I wanted to read a love story centered around the fiercest rivalry in all of hockey: Boston-Montreal. So here I am, writing that story.
A couple of disclaimers before we begin: First, as always, characters engaging in sexual activity are over the age of eighteen. Second, while I'm using real NHL teams in this story (primarily my beloved Boston Bruins and our hated rivals, the Montreal Canadiens), the players depicted are all creations of my overactive imagination and are not based on real people. I envision this story being about five parts, and while I've tried to divvy them up such that each chapter has some sexy bits, the first chapter is naturally more of a set up for the juicy stuff to come. Bear with me on that. As they say, good things come to those who wait.
***
Quite Contrary - Part 1
Jamie McIver breathed deeply as he walked into Agganis Arena, taking in the sea of 6,300 screaming red-clad spectators. The pep band played Boston University's fight song as the Terriers' starting lineup huddled around their goal to strategize ahead of the first puck drop. Across the rink, a pack of rowdy (and probably drunk) frat boys were shouting obscenities at Northeastern University's bench, the players seated thereon stoically ignoring them.
It was good to be home.
He knew he was running a bit late and had already missed the national anthem, so Jamie slid into his row and down to his seat while trying to remain inconspicuous and avoid disrupting those around him.
Anticipation crackled through the arena with that particular electricity unique to competition as the teams met at center ice for the opening face-off. The crowd roared as the referee dropped the puck and BU's center won the draw, sending it cleanly back toward his defensemen.
The game was on.
Jamie smiled wistfully. He had spent four years of his life on that very ice not all that long ago, and watching slightly-younger versions of himself following in his path filled him with nostalgia. One of the forwards reached the offensive zone, dodged a Northeastern defender, and took a shot, the puck bouncing off the goaltender's pads with a soft thud and skittering into the corner. There was a scuffle as four or five players went after it, and one of the Northeastern defensemen hit the ice hard.
The referee's hand shot up and he gave a short blast on his whistle as BU regained possession.
"Boston University number fifty-two, two-minute minor penalty for tripping," he declared, sweeping his hand downward to indicate the infraction.
"Are you fucking
kidding
me?!?"
Jamie turned to his left at the indignant shriek and had to chuckle at the young woman who had emitted it. A scowl marred her pretty features as she grumbled something about "shit officiating," her gray eyes glinting sharply as she glared at the referee. If looks could kill, he would've been deader than mummy dust.
"Pretty bad call, huh?"
The blonde turned to Jamie in surprise, the rage leaving her eyes and embarrassment taking its place. "Oh, uh, yeah. O'Reilly wasn't tripped; Patterson barely touched him. Also, sorry for screaming cuss words in your ear."
He gave her an easy smile. "You're good. I guarantee I've heard worse. I'm Jamie, by the way."
"Mary," she replied, shaking the hand that he offered, the corners of her red-painted lips turning upwards. "I haven't seen you around before."
Jamie didn't normally care for overly garish makeup, but his companion seemed to have matched her lipstick to her bright red BU jersey, which was unexpectedly alluring. "I graduated a few years ago. Are you a student?"
"Grad student. I'm in my first year of a master's program."
"What field?" he asked.
"Education. Oh, come on, you guys need to clear that!" Mary shouted at no one in particular as Northeastern kept the puck in BU's defensive zone, preventing the exhausted penalty killers from changing out.
Jamie regarded her thoughtfully. "You're really passionate about hockey," he observed.
She blushed. "I'm Canadian, so I come by it honestly."
She's cute when she blushes
, Jamie thought.
"Ever play yourself?" he asked aloud instead.
Mary shrugged. "I'm not a great skater, so I pretty much just stuck to floor hockey. How about you? Did you play growing up?"
He nodded as BU's goaltender caught a shot in his trapper. "Mhm. That was a great save."
"Johnson's having a pretty good season so far," she agreed.
"You'd anticipate a low-scoring game, then?"
"Good question. Yeah, I guess I would."
He cocked his head to the side, considering. "Where would you put the over-under for total goals scored?"
She tapped her chin thoughtfully and something about the simple gesture set off an unexpected flutter in his gut. "I'd say four. And I'd probably take the under."
Jamie saw an opening and decided to run with it.
"I'll take that action. Want to make it interesting?"
She quirked an eyebrow at him. "Interesting how?"
"If you're right and there are less than four goals total scored, you win and I'll buy you a drink."
"And if it's more than four?"
He grinned. "Then I win. And I
get
to buy you a drink."
Jamie gave himself a mental pat on the back. He wasn't usually all that smooth with women despite being what most would consider handsome, and he felt tremendous pride at being able to even string together a coherent sentence - several, in fact - while talking to Mary. He wasn't normally so forward either, but something about her drew him in and he wanted a chance to get to know her better.
"You're already taking a pretty big gamble that I'm not seeing anyone," she noted wryly, immediately bursting his bubble.
Oh shit,
he thought. He hadn't considered that possibility. That in and of itself was somewhat out of character for him since he was what one might consider a chronic overthinker.
He immediately launched into what his mother had once termed "paralysis by analysis":
What should I say now? Should I apologize for being presumptuous? Should I pretend I was kidding? Should I try to just sink into my seat and hope it absorbs me?
Almost as though she could see the mad scramble taking place inside his head, Mary laughed, a warm and pleasant sound. "I'm just messing with you. I'd love to get a drink with you after the game."
Jamie instantly relaxed. "Oh man, you really had me going there for a second. I felt like I was about to die of embarrassment."
Her gray eyes twinkled merrily. "Well, we couldn't have that, now, could we?"
"It wouldn't do at all," he concurred.
Slipping into an amiable silence, they both turned their attention back to the game. BU had successfully killed off the penalty and a fresh trio of forwards were advancing on the Northeastern defensemen as they tried to regroup in their own zone.
Jamie leaned closer to Mary. "Looks like they're going aggressive on the forecheck to try to force a turnover near the slot. Northeastern's goalie can be weak on the blocker side, so they might try to pick the corner."
He hoped he was impressing her with his hockey acumen.
She was unphased. "Sure, but Callahan's out on the ice and he has the best shot blocking stats in the league right now."
