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As if he knows exactly what he’s doing to me, Cooper glances over. His smirk is downright sinful, and I’m left sitting here rocking a semi.

Long before I’m ready, Cooper and the guys leave the ice, ready for the game to start.

I pull out my cell and scroll through X, finding some trolls to torment while I wait. But thankfully, time moves fast, and the next thing I know, the home team is being announced and we’re gearing up for the first puck drop of the night.

Denver has a good team. They’re regularly at the top of their division, and they’ve made it to the playoffs five times in the last seven years.

Right now, they’re second in their division, and a win tonight would push them to the top since Chicago lost last night. They’re going to be hitting this game hard.

I’m on edge as Denver wins the puck drop and play gets underway.

I fight to keep my eyes on the action, but it’s hard when all I really want to do is follow one player around.

“Oh fuck. The fuck, ref?” I bellow as Linc is shoved into the boards by one of Denver’s D-men.

Only a few seconds later, there’s an obvious cross-check from Denver’s center that the ref also fails to notice.

As the game progresses, the Vipers’ fans who have traveled to watch are increasingly incensed, and it doesn’t help that we’re down a goal.

“This is fucking bullshit,” I shout. “Get your eyes on the fucking game.”

My face tingles with attention as I shout expletives at the referee, and when I look over, I find Cooper on the bench smirking at me.

The game is intense from the very beginning, but when Kodie manages to slip one in the backdoor and level the score, Denver takes it up a notch.

But while they might be playing dirty, we’re holding our own.

Even from the stands, I can tell that the Denver players are chirping in our ears, trying to make us lose control. But we’ve got this. Our guys are focused on the game, on getting the W.

Both sides end up with penalties, and by the time we’re into the third period, the score is tied at four all.

It’s tense. Denver needs this win; we do too, of course, but we’re already a few points ahead at the top of our division.

Play gets rougher, and the guys’ patience starts running out.

My heart is racing, and I’m on my feet, shouting and screaming encouragement for us to get the final goal we need.

I barely feel my cell vibrate in my pocket, and I almost ignore it. But a penalty is called, and play stops for a few seconds, allowing me to look.

I regret doing so the second I see the message on my screen.

Sienna: YOU’RE IN DENVER!!

She follows it up with a photo of her TV screen, and there in the middle of it is me in the stands.

Shit.

I hesitate, unsure of what to type back. But also, I can’t ignore it; she’ll have seen I’ve read it, and she’ll want answers.

Garrett: Yeah, a friend had a ticket up for grabs, so I thought, why not?

Sienna: And you didn’t think to invite me?

She wouldn’t have come; she has work, but I doubt that’s the point she's trying to make.

Garrett: It was a last-minute kind of thing.

And I’m not even joking; I barely got to the airport in time to make it through security and get on the plane. Another couple of minutes on the phone with Cooper, and I wouldn’t be here right now.