You lived in Boston all your life and grew up in a hockey family so you were somewhat forced into the Bruins family. You didn't mind though, you loved the sport. After graduation you left Boston and moved to Chicago for college. You grew in love with the Chicago hockey team, the Blackhawks. You had bought season tickets and today was the game against Bruins so you were very excited. You stuck with your old Bruins jersey and a Chicago beanie, you paired it with dark washed jeans and some Converse.
After finding the parking and entering the stadium, you went to section 111 and looked for you usual seats. You sat in your spot and waiting for the game to begin. They called both teams onto the ice then they started with the anthems. Everyone took their hats off, just like you did. You faced the flag and after the song was over you sat back down.
After fifty five minutes of play, over 14 different penalties, and two beers, the score was still at zero. Someone took a shot, you where to busy to see who, but it somehow went over the glass and hit you right at the side of your face, on your cheek. You dropped your phone and accidentally kicked the beer under your legs and moaned in pain. In a few seconds you looked up to see Toews pushing Marchand around and cussing him out.
"M'am, here's some ice for your face." a security guard said, handing ice to you, "Please follow me to the medical room. They just want to make sure you don't have a concussion or anything." You forced a smile and took the ice and put it on your face.
The game ended soon and you were ready to get out of the arena, but no one would let you. Just as you thought a doctor had opened the door to tell you that you were okay, you saw Jonathan Toews standing at the door half naked.
"Oh my G-, I am so sorry! Wait crap its you, uh, how's your cheek?" He asked, tightening his grip around the towel on his waist.
"It's as good as it can be." you say, the sarcasm very clear.
"Right, about that-" He says, searching for your name.
"Kenzie."
"-Kenzie, I gave him some thoughts on that, b-because it wasn't very nice?" you could tell he had no idea what to say.
You smiled at his awkwardness, "I know, I saw, thank you for that."
"Anytime, not that if want you to get hit again. Oh hold on, I just realized you're in a Boston jersey, why is that?" He asked, sitting on the chair near you.
"I grew up in Boston, moved here a couple years ago, I have a few jerseys from both teams. Just thought I'd wear it for good luck, but obviously it didn't work because I got hit in the face, by a freakin' puck." You said with a small laugh, then the doctor walked in clearing you to leave.
You two said goodbyes, and you headed out the door and to the parking lot. Now, you realized you had to explain to your parents why you had a bruised cheek when they visit tomorrow morning.
