Page 18 of Cross Check

She’s a goddamn woman. A stunning one at that, with muscular thighs she’s not afraid to show off and long arms. I respect her boundary to be nothing more than professional acquaintances, but I can’t deny the crush I have on her. Sure, other women have caught my eye. Lexi, our athletic trainer, is cute. I’ve met a few fans who have held my attention for a minute or two, but Amelia is different.

I’d spend all afternoon with her if I could. I want to know all of her favorite things. I want to hear her laugh and make her smile. I want to see her again, but I know the time we have together is fleeting. This might be my only chance to hang out with her, and I want to make the most of it.

“I promise to keep my vulgarities to a minimum.” I try not to give a second look to the expanse of skin her running shorts show off. The last thing I want is for her to think I’m an immature creep. I’m sure she deals with that plenty in other parts of her life, and I want to be different from everyone else. “So. What’s your favorite city to visit?”

“I’ve always liked New York and Boston. The crowds love their teams, and it makes for a fun game environment. If we’re talking outside the hockey world, I’d probably say Tokyo. It’s such an immersive place, and their culture is beautiful.”

“I’ve never been outside of the U.S. and Canada. I’d like to travel more, but there’s limited time for that. Maybe I’ll make it someplace cool one of these days.”

“You should try. It’s good for us to get out of our comfort zone.” Amelia bends her knees and sighs. “The sun feels so nice. I’d sit here for hours if I could. Thawing out after a brutal winter is necessary.”

“You said you were meeting Emmy tomorrow?” I ask.

“Yeah. The Stars and Goldminers want to do a photoshoot for International Women’s Day next weekend. They’re going to show all the positions women can hold in the league. It’s funny. We played against each other one season when she was at Ohio State, but we’ve never interacted past a postgame handshake. I was already in the AHL when she made it to the ECHL, so it will be our first time really meeting.”

“No way. I would’ve loved to see the two of you duke it out back then. I’m obsessed with her, and I’m determined to get her to be my friend. I’m halfway there, and I hope she stays in DC long-term.”

“I’m sure she considers you a friend. You’re fun to hang out with.”

“Are you admitting that you’re having a good time with me?” I fold my arms over my chest and smirk. “You can be my friend too. Just say the word.”

“The only thing I’ll admit is your company isn’t the worst thing in the world.” She stands. “And with that, I should get going.”

“Thanks for having lunch with me. I’m glad I ran into you,” I say.

“Yeah.” Her blue eyes meet mine. She’s trying to fight off a smile, and I’m going to call today a goddamn success. “Me too.”

EIGHT

AMELIA

“I think that’s enough pictures.” Emerson Hartwell groans when the photographer takes a final snapshot of us for the league’s social media montage. “There has to be at least one in there where we’re both smiling.”

“My cheeks hurt.” I rub my jaw. “How do people in customer service positions do this all day?”

“I’d rather kick someone’s ass on the ice than figure out my good side.”

“Your left. Definitely.”

“Thanks.” She tosses her red hair over her shoulder with an easy air of confidence. “It’s a shame we barely saw each other when we were collegiate athletes. It would have been fun to spar against you, Green.”

“Wouldn’t have been much of a spar. Wisco beat Ohio State all four years while I was there, Hartwell.” I smirk. “That’s the only dig I’ll make, and I’ll keep the rest of the chirping until after Women’s History Month.”

“Goddamn. I knew I was going to like you. Sarcastic and snarky. My kind of woman.” Emmy hands her phone to one of the men behind the cameras. “Could you take a photo of us, please? I need to document the first of many times the two of us will be hanging out.”

We stand side by side, and our heights are nearly identical. She’s wider up top where my shoulders are narrower, but my hips have more shape than hers. We put our arms around each other, both laughing when we straighten our spines, trying to be the tallest.

“I’m not wearing my chunky sneakers,” I say. “You have the advantage today, Hartwell.”

“I appreciate you agreeing to this. Between you and me, I think it’s a bunch of performative bullshit to show how ‘diverse’ the league is.” She puts the word in air quotes, and I nod in agreement. “They can take all the pictures they want, but we both know there’s a lot of work left to do. We barely have a seat at the table. Everyone wants to pretend like they’re our biggest fans to our faces while secretly hoping we fail.”

It’s the most honest assessment to describe how I feel most days. Grateful for the opportunity, yes, but endlessly wary of anyone who might be a touch too kind. Glad to work beside men who encourage me, sure, but hesitant to accept praise from someone I’ve never met.

“For what it’s worth, I’m pulling out a chair for you to sit next to me in the small space I have. Our teams might be facing off tomorrow, but we’re the outliers. We’re allowed to support one another even when others don’t.” I smile. “And if that’s a problem, I’ll tell anyone who complains to fuck off.”

“And that’s why I can put our college rivalry aside and declare you my new favorite person in the name of taking down the patriarchy.” Emmy beams and AirDrops the photos we took. “Shit. I have to run. Coach scheduled a surprise weight training session despite kicking our asses at practice this morning. Here’s hoping I’m able to skate in our game tomorrow.”

“Go. We’ll link up soon.” I wave her off. “Good to see you, Hartwell.”