“Have you had a threesome before, Lorrie?”
Breaking from my thoughts, I erupted in a burst of laughter. “What do you think?”
“Yes.” He smiled.
I smirked. “Well, you’d be wrong. I’m not interested in having one either. One guy is enough. Adding another guy would be too much. Way too much.”
He smirked back. “What about adding another girl?”
I scoffed. “In your dreams, buddy.”
He waved his hand dismissively. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’d be a good participant in a threesome anyway.”
I was surprised at how much offense I took by that comment. “What? Why not?”
“You probably wouldn’t get along with the other girl. You’re kind of a lone wolf. You’d be either too selfless and let the girl have the guy all to herself or too selfish and take the guy all for yourself. There’d be no in between.” He wagged his finger at me playfully.
I scrunched my brows, uncomfortable with how much his reasoning resonated with me. “That’s quite a bold statement. And how did you come to that conclusion?”
“Just from our interactions . . . On the one hand, you’re ridiculously nice by taking out my trash to repay me even though you didn’t have to—that’s the selfless part. On the other hand, you’re kind of selfish especially with how much you share yourself with others—or even just information about yourself.”
I shot him a wry smile. “A compliment and an insult all rolled into one. Remind me why I’m hanging out with you again?”
“Because we’re friends.” He flashed his boyish grin at me and I couldn’t help but smile back.
“Alright, so what if it was another guy instead of a girl?” I asked, eager to turn this weird first-hang-out-discussion in my favor.
“You’d only focus on one guy. I don’t see you wanting to please two at the same time.”
“Fair,” I said, thinking about the implications. “I don’t think I can argue with you there, but I’m confused about something. Based on what you’ve said, you wouldn’t be a good threesome partner either. You strike me as the lone wolf type yourself: clean apartment, solo walks, ignoring your adoring female fans. How do you do it then? How can you get along with people in a threesome?”
His eyes widened unexpectedly. “I’m shocked that you would even suggest I’ve ever had a threesome before!”
I rolled my eyes. I knew I wasn’t going to tease any details out of him—not that I particularly wanted to hear them anyway. Hunter was certainly keeping to his word that he kept his private matters to himself. It was a good thing as far as I was concerned, and I certainly wouldn’t have guessed he’d be that type of person based on my first impression of him.
Hoping to move onto a less awkward topic, I said, “These are nice seats, by the way.”
Hunter popped a nacho in his mouth, chewed it, and swallowed. “Yup, one of the perks of going to games every year for four years. Best seats in the house.”
“So they give you better seats if you’ve been to more games?”
“Pretty much. It kind of works on seniority, and this season it’s my turn to have the good seats.”
I nodded and eagerly took a nacho he offered me.
“We should finish these fast,” he said. “Once the game starts, we won’t be able to eat.”
I squinted. “Why not?”
“We’ll be standing the whole game.”
“What? Why?”
“You’ll see.”
“That sounds tiring.”
“It’s more active that way—just the way you like it.” He smiled and I returned the gesture, liking the way he paid attention to minor details I told him about myself. “But we do sit down between periods.”
Hunter and I picked up the pace on eating the nachos. It seemed like Hunter was really into hockey and I kind of found it cute. We finished our nachos just as the arena lights dimmed. I looked around, but nobody seemed surprised, including Hunter. Instead, everyone was standing.
“Game time,” he said, looking down at me.
I stood up and watched as our team filtered onto the ice, followed by several spotlights. They skated around the rink while the band played the fight song to our right. Hunter and the rest of the section sang the lyrics loudly. I didn’t know the words to the Arrowhart fight song, so I just clapped along, making a mental note to learn the song in case I ever went to another sporting event.
When the song ended, the lights came back on. Hunter banged on the glass and screamed words of encouragement at the red and white clad players as they skated by. There were a few other people along the glass doing the same.
He turned to me to gauge my reaction as the players skated to the bench. I smiled at him and gave a thumbs-up sign, enjoying the lively pre-game ceremony.
The other team was already sitting on their bench, which was situated right next to our team’s bench. Their jerseys were dark green and their coach, wearing a black suit, seemed to be already yelling at them already. Our coach was standing with his arms crossed as five guys and the goalie jumped over the short wall in front of the bench and onto the ice. Soon, the green team followed. The game was about to start, and everyone was yelling.
“This is called a faceoff,” Hunter said. Even though he was right next to me, I could barely hear him above the clamor, but I nodded anyway. The referee dropped the puck and the game began.
It didn’t take long to realize that hockey was a very fast game. The players seemed to be constantly chasing after the puck when it was against the boards. Whenever they crashed up against the glass, I was shocked at how much it shook. The way these guys kept skating after hitting each other so hard boggled my mind.
The first period was over quickly without anyone scoring any goals. The student section sat down for the first time since the game had started. It wasn’t until I had taken a seat that I realized how sore my legs were.
“So what do you think?” Hunter asked.
“It’s definitely fast.”
He smiled. “Yeah, it keeps your attention.”
“Is it normal for them to not score for a whole period?”
“Yeah, there’s usually only a couple goals in a game. It makes it more exciting when they score.”
I nodded. We were quiet for a while, recovering from the intensity of watching the game. Everyone in our section seemed to be resting before the next period.
“Did you ever play hockey?” I asked him.
He shook his head. “They don’t really play much hockey in San Diego. I didn’t get into it until I came here for school, but now I love it. Kinda wish I played, actually.”
“I guess doing cage fights is enough athletic activity for one person.”
He laughed. “Yeah, probably. I’m sore enough after training that I doubt I'd have the energy for any other sports.”
The second period and most of the third flew by. There were five minutes left in the game and we finally scored the first goal of the game. The entire arena erupted in cheers so loud the noise hurt my ears. Hunter high-fived everyone around us, including me. His palm made a loud slap against mine; it stung but I ignored the pain because his excitement for the game got me excited as well.