The #1 fan always losing ticketing war #9

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Shane POV

Ilya Rozanov🎹

I: Dean received the autographed jerseys. He asked me to pass along his thanks. His three daughters are obsessed.

S: That's great. I'm so glad they like them.

I: You sent them tickets, too.

S: I did. Hope that didn't cause any trouble?

I: No extra one for me?

S: I thought I only needed to send five tickets for the whole family?

I: I thought we friends, no?

S: You didn't even say you wanted any!

I: If I ask, I get one?

S: If you're polite, I'll consider it.

I: Dear kind, handsome, and amazing MLH star, Mr. Shane Hollander, can I have a ticket to next week home game? Please? Please please please

I: 🥺

S: ...

S: Just give me your address. I'll send you two tickets, in case you have a plus one.

I: I do not haveplusone

I: Thanks ticket.

I: I do not have plus one, Shane.

S: You could ask Svetlana to come with you?

I: I'll ask Svetlana.

I: But Shane, I DO NOT HAVE ANY PLUS ONE other than Svetlana.

S: ...Okay? You don't have to keep repeating it, even if you end up going alone.

I: There will NEVER be any plus one.

S: I GET IT. You won't have a plus one, only Svetlana.

I: And Svetlana not my plus one either. She is my FRIEND and agent.

S: I UNDERSTAND CLEARLY. Stop repeating it.

＊

Ilya: Dean received the autographed jerseys. He asked me to pass along his thanks. His three daughters are obsessed.
Shane: That's great. I'm so glad they like them.
Ilya: You sent them tickets, too.
Shane: I did. Hope that didn't cause any trouble?
Ilya: No extra one for me?
Shane: I thought I only needed to send five tickets for the whole family?
Ilya: I thought we friends, no?
Shane: You didn't even say you wanted any!
Ilya: If I ask, I get one?
Shane: If you're polite, I'll consider it.
Ilya: Dear kind, handsome, and amazing MHL star, Mr. Shane Hollander, can I have a ticket to next week home game? Please? Please please please; 🥺
Shane: ...; Just give me your address. I'll send you two tickets, in case you have a plus one.
Ilya: I do not haveplusone; Thanks ticket.; I do not have plus one, Shane.
Shane: You could ask Svetlana to come with you?
Ilya: I'll ask Svetlana.; But Shane, I DO NOT HAVE ANY PLUS ONE other than Svetlana.
Shane: ...Okay? You don't have to keep repeating it, even if you end up going alone.
Ilya: There will NEVER be any plus one.
Shane: I GET IT. You won't have a plus one, only Svetlana.
Ilya: And Svetlana not my plus one either. She is my FRIEND and agent.
Shane: I UNDERSTAND CLEARLY. Stop repeating it.

＊

<hr/>

Shane一踏入冰面，就感覺今天與眾不同。

場館的光從四面八方照射，冰上一片白茫，混雜臭氧與金屬味的濕氣劃過他的肌膚，是銳利、緊繃的熟悉感。空氣裡還殘留著洗冰車的柴油臭，冰面剛被熱蒸過，白霧懸浮在表面，迷濛得像眼球表面的水氣。

隨著更多球員進入冰場暖身，皮革護具與汗水交織而成的人類氣息逐漸竄進鼻腔，喝斥與人聲打破白冰的寧靜，無數的冰刀刮過硬冰。他們滑行繞場，就像水鳥群振翅掠過高空，然後俯衝著潛入水下，成群剎停在網前，球桿的拍面(hockey toe)亦如鳥喙，銜起冰球。

球桿的清脆擊打與冰球的沉重彈跳，迴盪在場中各處，清晰可辨。透徹地彷彿回聲定位，聲波在空氣中震盪，向Shane的軀幹立刻發出行動指令，然後他揮動手中的球桿，冰球入網。他的肌肉柔軟，關節靈活，全身神經全都聽令大腦指揮。就連肌肉的痠痛，都彷彿是上過麻藥的漂浮感，胃袋裡的食物即將消化完畢，身體彷彿脫去了所有負擔。

一切恰如飛鳥輕盈，冷空氣高速穿過他的身側，風托住他，他的羽翼隨之搧動，低空飛掠冰面，冰刀刮擦著硬冰，冰屑濺起，融在他溫熱的皮膚上。他的鳥喙再次輕易銜起冰球。

這種舒爽，痛快非凡。

直到Hayden滑過來輕推他，Shane抬頭看向螢幕，他立刻回想起今天與眾不同的原因。

The moment Shane stepped onto the ice, he knew today was different.

Bright arena lights beamed from every direction, turning the ice into a blinding white expanse. The scent of ozone and metallic moisture brushed against his skin, a sharp, tense sense of familiarity. The lingering smell of diesel from the Zamboni hung in the air, and a white mist from the freshly steamed ice floated on the surface, blurring his vision like a thin veil of water over his eyes.

As more players flooded the ice for warm-ups, the human scent of leather gear and sweat began to fill the air. Shouts and voices shattered the silence of the white ice. Countless blades scraped the hard surface. The players circled the rink like a flock of waterbirds beating their wings across the sky, then diving deep beneath the surface, skidding to a halt in front of the net. The toe of their stick were like beaks, plucking the pucks from the surface.

The crisp strikes of sticks and the heavy thud of pucks echoed from every corner, distinct and clear. It was like echolocation. Sound waves vibrated through the air, sending instant commands to Shane's core. He swung his stick, and the puck found the net. His muscles felt supple, his joints limber, and every nerve in his body answered perfectly to his brain. Even the dull ache in his muscles felt like the light, floating sensation of anesthesia. The food in his stomach was nearly digested, and his body felt weightless, stripped of all burdens.

His body felt as light as a bird's. Cold air rushed past him at high speed, the wind lifting him as his wings beat in rhythm, skimming low across the ice. His blades carved the hard surface, splashing ice shards that melted against his warm skin. Once again, using the stick as his beak, he easily scooped up the puck.

The sensation was exhilarating—pure, unadulterated joy.

Then, Hayden skated over and gave him a nudge. Shane looked up at the screen, and he instantly remembered exactly why today was so different.

＊

JUMBOTRON OF BELL CENTRE

ON THE STANDS

A shot of the stands. At the center of the frame is a man staring fixedly at the rink, and beside him, a woman with fluffy brown curls.

She is the first to notice the screen. She reaches over and taps the man's arm. He looks puzzled at first, but then his eyes find the giant display above. Immediately, a wave of cheers and screams erupts from the crowd.

PA ANNOUNCER (Voice-Over):

And there's Ilya Rozanov. The pianist currently taking North America by storm, appearing here in the audience.

Wearing a blue jersey, Rozanov smiles brightly at the camera, waving and revealing the "C" on the upper left of his jersey, immediately eliciting cheers from the arena. Rozanov stands up, turns around, and reaches up to smooth out the graphic on the back of his jersey, drawing even more screams and shouts from the stands.

The jersey bears the huge number 24 and HOLLANDER.

PA ANNOUNCER (V. O.):

He's wearing a Shane Hollander jersey. That's gonna upset some Boston fans.

CUT TO:

ON THE ICE

Shane Hollander, mid-stretch during warm-ups, stares up at the screen. His jaw nearly drops, his eyes wide with pure, unadulterated shock.

CUT BACK TO:

ON THE STANDS

Rozanov is still standing, hands on his hips now, looking down at the ice. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he saucily winks toward the ice.

The fans go wild again. Rozanov lets out a triumphant laugh and settles back into his seat.

PA ANNOUNCER (V.O.)

Ha ha. Seems to be getting a reaction out of the Metro's bench?

＊

Rozanov真的沒有帶plus-one，他身旁只坐著Svetlana。

Shane一直試圖搞懂Rozanov在他們的對話裡反覆強調的理由，Shane沒有蠢到猜不出原因，但也不夠坦蕩到承認Rozanov說的那些話都是有意義的。但至少Shane確實在觀眾席上看見了，光只是這樣，就足以讓他無法壓抑嘴角的揚起，以及胸口莫名的舒暢。Shane感覺得到，今晚的比賽能打個痛快，他會把底特律輕鬆地送回家。

Rozanov won't have a plus-one. That's fine. Shane will score a "plus-one" for him... and two more, just to make sure Rozanov doesn't take his eyes off every single second of tonight's game.

熱身結束後，球隊都離開冰面。上場前，Shane根本不應該拿起手機，但他無法忽視架子上那聲簡訊的嗡鳴，他遲疑不用一秒便伸出手。

Rozanov really didn't bring a plus one, only Svetlana was sitting next to him.

Shane had been trying to understand the reason why Rozanov kept repeating that in their conversation. Shane wasn't stupid enough not to guess the reason, but he wasn't honest enough to admit that those words from Rozanov were meaningful. But at least Shane did see him in the stands. Just that was enough to make him unable to stop the corners of his mouth from rising and feel a strange relief in his chest.

Shane could feel it. He could play a great game tonight. He would send Boston home easily.

Rozanov won't have a plus-one. That's fine. Shane will score a "plus-one" for him... and two more, just to make sure Rozanov doesn't take his eyes off every single second of tonight's game.

<hr/>

Warm-ups were over, and the team had cleared the ice. Before heading back out for the game, Shane shouldn't have picked up his phone at all, but he couldn't ignore the buzz of a text message He didn't hesitate for even a second before reaching out his hand.

＊

I: You look so pretty on the ice.

<h4 class="time">Today, 19:42 PM</h4>

I: You won't be that pretty when Boston beats you.

S: Fuck you. That's not happening.

I: We'll see.

S: Get your hat ready. Asshole.

＊

在教練開口喊他之前，Shane把手機扔回架上，跟著球隊走出休息室。

然後比賽開始。

Before the coach could even call his name, Shane tossed his phone back onto the shelf and followed the team out of the locker room.

Then, it was game on.