Nothing could have prepared me for watching Taylor Hudson play his first NHL game on live TV. You think I would have had at least a bit of preparation under my belt, considering that I saw him play a preseason game and had seen the guy in numerous settings at this pointâwhich still freaked me out a little bitâlike at the mall and the movie theatre.
None of that mattered. Watching him the night before was as surreal an experience I have ever had.
It was like my dad had changed the channel to SportsCast to watch the game but The Taylor Hudson Show was playing instead.
The reason why I found it so bizarre is because everyone knows that hockey is a team sport. Sure, there are star players on each team, but there is an understanding in the league that in order to win, the focus needed to be on the team and not on an individual. It was quite the contrast to a sport like basketball, where the Steph Currys and the Lebron James's all had multiple championships. In fact, in hockey, it wasn't uncommon for the best players in the league to be on non-playoff teams.
All that was to say that it's uncharacteristic for a hockey broadcast to focus on one individual over the team.
Except if, maybe, that individual was the first draft pick playing in his first NHL game.
And if said game was in front of the home crowd.
And if said individual was Taylor Hudson.
I almost felt bad for the guy with all the attention he was getting. The cameras didn't seem to stop following Taylor all night. In the warmup as he skated around the goalie's net. On his first shift at centre ice. As the last thing on screen before the broadcast cut to timeout. Even when he wasn't on the ice, the camera would pan to him at every whistle. Each time they did that, I prayed he wasn't shoving his finger inside his nose to pick a winner. Luckilyâfor him and every single viewerâhe didn't do any of that. Sometimes his head was tilted in the direction of the player sitting next to him on the bench, listening to what the more experienced guy had to say. Or he was just staring at the ice with a steely gaze.
And if the camera attention wasn't bad enough, you should have heard the broadcasters. They had clearly done their research on him, talking about where he was from, some notable stats, and what the fans could expect from him. It was such an unconventional way to learn information about someone that you've already met.
Like, for example, how Taylor's parents look. Halfway through the second period, the camera panned to a trio of adults who looked to be sitting in the Gold section of the Modar Centre. A caption flashed on screen, which read Taylor's Family. It was sort of unnecessary, however, because the woman was practically an older, female version of Taylor. Straight black hair in a long bob. Minimal makeup on an olive complexion. She was beautiful. The two men, though, one of either side of her, I wasn't so sure about. Maybe one was his dad, but it was hard to tell. Both were tall and shared common features with Taylor.
I tried my best to sit there and watch the game with my parents but it was so damn hard to act normal. It didn't help that Angela was over and kept making ridiculous comments. She had insisted she be over for the game, which I had found odd, but it only took two minutes into the first period for the reason to become clear.
My dad, trying to be friendly, said: "Angela, I didn't know you were a hockey fan."
And she, trying to be a little shit, replied with: "Oh, I'm not really. I'm just watching for the players."
Then she'd look right at me.
Unfortunately, Ang was immune to the daggers I was shooting from my eyes.
I just sat there on the couch with my knees pulled to my chest and a blanket covering my body. There was a current flowing through my limbs that intensified whenever there was a close-up of Taylor. I couldn't get enough of that look. Something was stirring in my stomach and I wasn't sure if I should squash it immediately or let it take over because it felt too good.
My Social Cognition notebook was sitting on the couch next to me, lonely and abandoned. Even when I made myself look at it during the commercial breaks or intermission, the effort was futile. I couldn't be more distracted even if an elephant wearing a grass skirt was dancing right in front of my eyes.
The Storm ended up losing the game but Taylor had recorded an assist. When I dragged myself to bed after it ended, I was too wired to sleep. I ended up killing some time on my phone and I typed in 'Winnipeg Storm' into Google. The intention was to see some of the reception Taylor got on social media but I ended up finding a stream of his post-game interview. I plugged my headphones in and listened, feeling a bit like a creep because I was in my bed watching Taylor with all the lights off.
Oh well.
He talked about how it felt to be out thereâa dream come trueâand what to make of the lossâthe team needed to just look forward to tomorrow.
Funny. I felt the same way.
I was about to see Taylor Hudson for the second time in twenty-four hours. Counting his televised game, of course.
Even though Taylor had offered to pick me up, I insisted on taking the bus, so we planned to meet at the Modar Centre for one p.m. It was anxiety-inducing enough that I was about to spend time with Taylor alone and in an empty arena for I didn't even know how long.
Did I mention alone?
As in, with no other people, not even Angela?
The number three gets a bad rep. You know the saying, two's company, three's a crowd? It didn't make sense to me. Three was the perfect number for me, as far as social situations go, because I can let the other two do all the damn talking and I can just pipe up with the appropriate "mmm hmm" and "uh huh" at the appropriate times.
Have I ever mentioned that I'm really fun at parties?
The bus time was going to be my reprieve. An opportunity for me to calm the knot in my stomach and not have to make small talk while doing so. I couldn't ride with Taylor, because then it would exhaust all my conversation material for when we were at the arena.
But because the bus comes to the stop nearest my house every half-hour, I had two choices: arrive either way early or way late.
I went with early.
Twenty minutes after I hopped on the Route 85 of W Transit, I walked up to Gate One of the larger-than-life arena and waited for Taylor. He had warned me in advance that the doors would be locked. My hands, which were shoved into my coat pockets, were growing clammier by the minute.
Was I nervous?
I was nervous.
Why was I nervous?
This was Taylor. I had hung out with Taylor before. A few times, in fact.
It had been okay. I hadn't made too much of an ass of myself, I didn't think. (We don't mention that phone call anymore.)
But all those times had a common denominator: Taylor and I ended up together by happenstance, coincidence, luck...whatever you want to call it.
On the other hand, this was the first time we had actually planned an outing together. Did that mean the expectations were different? Should I try to be more interesting, so that I'm more worth his time and attention? I didn't let the D-word cross my mind. This was so far from that it wasn't even funny.
Things just weren't like that with us.
That made me think of why Taylor would want to hang out with me, but I pushed that thought away. It was too complicated to think about now. He was young, and I was young, and he was in a new city all alone, so he was probably just trying to make friends whenever he could. That was where my money was, at least.
The parking lot was relatively empty, so when a black Jeep drove in and parked into a spot near the front, I noticed.
My stomach gave a little flip as I watched Taylor climb out of his car, lock it, and walk towards me. He was wearing a black hoodie, grey sweatpants, a Storm cap, and a bright, white smile.
"I hope you realize that you beating me here is the only thing you'll win today."
My mouth went dry. His joke, his smile, his blush were all directed at me.
"I don't doubt that. We're skating, not writing an exam, right?"
I hoped I sounded more confident than I felt.
"Yeah, I guess you're right." He laughed as he pulled his fob out of his pocket. "Follow me."
Completely empty, the Modar Centre seemed even more massive than usual. I was too busy taking in the surroundings that it didn't dawn on me that Taylor had led us to the home team's bench until the NHL-sized ice was staring right at me.
"Holy shit," I muttered.
Taylor laughed. "Yeah, it's much bigger up close."
I'm an idiot. An idiot of moronic proportions. I had to be. Because why else would I say what I said next?
"That's what she said."
Nothing. Silence. If a pin was shot out of the jumbotron and landed on the ice, we would have heard it. Taylor's eyes just darted to mine.
"Oh my god," I blanched. "Forget I said that, I don't know why I did."
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Taylor didn't respond with words. Instead, his face turned a deep shade of red, his shoulders began to shake, and his lips mashed together. Then, everything began to shake and the poor kid had to lean over the boards for support.
"Oh, come on, it's not that funny," I said, feeling beyond embarrassed.
"It's...actually...hilarious," he said in between guffaws.
Yes, yes, we've established I'm a twelve-year-old boy. Time to move on.
"When you're done laughing, feel free to join me. But I'd like to skate now." I tried to sound as badass as I could.
See? This was why I was more suited to being an introvert. You can't embarrass yourself by saying stupid shit if you hardly talk.
"You'll need skates for that," Taylor said.
Holy shit. Did he just wipe tears from his eyes?
"I know that. Is that a place I can rent them from?"
He shook his head.
Oh.
But then he reached into the duffel bag he had carried over his shoulder. "I asked the guys yesterday after practice if they had a pair of skates in a small size that I could borrow. These were the smallest I could get. They were someone's sister's. I brought extra socks if they're too big."
Taylor pulled the pair of black and grey skates out of the bag and placed them on the bench.
He did that? He did that. This boy seriously asked his brand-new teammates, NHL teammates, no less, if he could borrow a pair of skates. For me.
"Thank you, so much. You didn't have to do that."
Taylor shrugged. "I did, though. You can't skate with boots."
I laughed. "I'm not sure if I can skate with skates, either."
That made him smile. "Don't worry. Skating is hard for a lot of people the first time around."
He instructed me to take off my boots and try the skates on. They were a little big, but not too bad at all, considering that I was a size five. An extra pair of socks did the trick.
"Feel okay?"
I swallowed and nodded. My butt was perched on the hard, wooden bench and my legs were stretched in front of me. Taylor was balancing on one knee and tying my skates.
"Let me know if it's too tight."
As soon as those words left his lips, our eyes immediately connected.
"Don't even go there!" I warned, trying but failing not to laugh.
"Seems like you already did," Taylor laughed. "Try standing up. They should feel snug."
I did as I was told and took a few tentative steps.
"All good," I confirmed.
Two minutes later Taylor had his own skates on. He opened the gate and took a step onto the ice.
"I was kind of hoping I'd get to jump over the boards like all the players do during a line change," I admitted.
He looked at me like I was his favourite kind of crazy.
"That's a bit ambitious for your first day. But I don't blame you. It's as fun as it looks."
I walked over to the edge but hesitated. For someone who wasn't sure if she could stand on the ice, the drop was a little overwhelming.
As I continued to look down at the ice, a hand came into my line of vision.
"It'll be okay. You won't fall. We can go as slow as you like and stop when you want," Taylor said softly.
This boy. His confidence in me made me want to learn how to speed skate for him.
I placed my hand in his and took a big step. Literally and figuratively.
Cross hand-holding off my list.
One foot, then the other. When I was finally standing firmly on my own two feet, with Taylor's help, of course, I couldn't help but smile widely.
"There you go! Want me to pull you around a bit?"
I nodded.
"Just bend your knees a little more."
The feeling of gliding around the ice was fun. Freeing. I savoured it before I spoiled the moment by speaking.
"You were on this ice last night," I told him.
Taylor made eye contact and smiled slowly. Trying to play it cool, I see.
"Taylor, it's a huge deal. I hope it was everything you wanted it to be."
He shrugged. "It was just one game, but yeah, it was pretty sweet."
"I can imagine."
After a few more minutes of him pulling me, I tried skating on my own. The technique was abysmal but at least I was moving around the sheet of frozen water.
"Not bad, not bad at all. We could have used you in the third period," Taylor teased.
"Maybe as the goalie. Then I wouldn't have to skate."
"You're doing pretty good for your first time."
Oh. Right.
"Taylor, I have to admit something. This isn't my first time skating."
He was staring at me with wide eyes, which I found mildly offensive. Did it really look like I had never skated before?
"When I was younger I took lessons at the Canadian Ice Academy. This is just the first time I've done it in a while."
Taylor looked at me with unblinking eyes for a moment. Then he laughed.
Again with the laughing at me.
"Oh god, then, no offense, Camille, but you're pretty bad."
"Glad I amuse you."
I wasn't offended per se, but I hated being bad at things.
Perhaps Taylor sensed that.
"We can take a break if you want. I'll buy you a hot chocolate," he promised.
"Yes, please. That sounds good. We've been at it for what, ten minutes, and my legs are killing me."
"Yeah, because you skate like your knees are in casts. You have to bend your knees."
Now it was my turn for my body to shake. My legs were feeling like Jell-O and I just found the entire situation to be hilarious. My inability to stop giggling impeded my already horrendous efforts at skating.
"Looks like I'll be pulling you back to the bench," Taylor said. "Hang on, spider monkey."
Whoa there.
My body froze immediately. Did he just...
"Did you just quote the Twilight movie?"
Taylor's mouth opened and closed like a fish.
"Is that where that's from?"
I cocked an eyebrow.
"My mom's a huge fan, okay!"
"I'm sure. That's what he said."