Page 139 of Cross Ice

“Are you guys still together? I saw some stuff online…”

“We are.” I said it firmly. Politely. But with a period at the end.

She got the message. “Well, enjoy the game.”

“Thanks.”

She turned back around.

I sat there with my heart pounding, waiting for the panic attack.

It didn’t come.

I’d just had a conversation with a stranger about being Nico’s boyfriend. In public. At the arena.

And I was okay.

The players came out for warmups. I spotted Nico immediately, skating fast laps, taking practice shots. He looked good. Strong. Focused.

Then he glanced up at the stands.

I didn’t know if he could see me from that distance, but I raised my hand anyway.

He raised his stick. Just for a moment.

I smiled.

The game started. Nico came alive on the ice—not distracted, not half present. He skated hard, made plays, and I watched the person I loved do the thing he was built for.

First period, he got an assist. Second period, he scored a beautiful shot from the slot that beat the goalie clean.

The arena erupted. I stood up and cheered with everyone else.

And when Nico skated past the bench, he looked up again.

This time I knew he’d seen me.

San Jose won 4–2.

After the game, I waited outside the players’ exit. Autograph seekers were waiting too.

I stood to the side, not trying to be invisible but not drawing attention either.

When Nico came out, he saw me immediately.

He walked straight over and kissed me. Right there. In front of everyone.

The reaction was instant. Phones lifted. A woman nearby gasped—not negatively, just surprised. Someone said, “Holy shit” loud enough for me to hear. A group of younger fans started cheering, and I heard one of them say, “I fucking knew it!”

My face heated. I was acutely aware of every camera pointed at us, every person watching, every witness to this moment that would probably be on social media before we even got to the car.

I pulled back, and Nico must have seen something in my expression because his hand settled on my waist, steadying.

“You good?” he asked quietly.

Around us, the crowd was definitely filming. I could see it in my peripheral vision—phones up, recording, capturing this.

“Yeah,” I managed. “Just… a lot of people.”