Wyatt must be able to read their expressions, too, because he says, “Y’all want to sit down here with us?”

Anyone listening can tell he’s just being nice, but they immediately jump inside.

Charlie plops down on a recliner with one of the puppies in his lap. “Man, this is how you’re supposed to watch one of these games.” Graham and Jake are leaning over the short wall so they can chat with the girls sitting in the next box. Sara and Olivia sit on the floor, even though the carpet looks questionable, and both are completely covered up in puppies within seconds.

I’ve never seen a hockey game before, even on TV, so I spend equal time during the first period watching the ice and making sure none of the dogs escape. It’s hard not to be mesmerized by the action right in front of us…as much as we can be while also wrangling eight puppies.

The announcer screams, “Power play!” and everyone cheers.

“What does that mean?” I ask to no one in particular.

Wyatt opens his mouth to answer, but Jake plops down on the couch next to me.

“Number twenty-three on the other team is in the box for slashing, so that means we have more players on the ice than they do,” he says.

Graham sits on the floor in front of me and scoops three of the puppies in his lap. “It’s the best time to try to score.”

Players slam each other against the Plexiglas wall, and we’re inches from the action. Thanks to the running commentary by Jake and Graham, I now have a working knowledge of power plays, lighting the lamp, and breakaways.

Wyatt leans around Jake and says, “I’m heading to the restroom. Want me to bring anything back from the concession stand?”

Jake says, “Popcorn!” I elbow him in the side. “What?”

I give him a look. “I’m good, Wyatt. Thanks!”

Wyatt nods and leaves the box. Jake gets into a very technical conversation with Graham about some penalty the Mudbugs just got, and I slide off the couch and move closer to Wes. He’s barely inside our area, sitting on the arm of the couch, with his eyes glued to the ice.

“Hey,” I say.

He gives me a quick glance and says, “Hey.”

“This is a good game!” I say with a tad too much enthusiasm.

He nods. “Yeah, they’re having a good season so far.”

“Well, I’m officially halfway through these dates,” I say for lack of anything else. I’m not sure what he thought when he saw that bracelet, but I want him to know I’m still very much not back with Griffin.

He looks at me, and I can’t read his expression. “I know you’ll be glad when things can get back to normal.”

I shrug. “I don’t know. It’s not how I was expecting to spend the break, but I have to admit, things have been better than I thought they would.”

I feel like I’m talking in code. Why can’t I be as direct as he was in the car with Charlie? I’d rather be doing nothing with the three of you than anything with Griffin.

“Yeah, I’m sure by now Griffin realizes he made a stupid mistake.”

Before I can set Wes straight, the Mudbugs make a goal and the entire arena explodes in cheers. Most of the crowd throws small red plastic crawfish out onto the ice, and then these cute kids on skates pick them all up with shovels almost as big as they are.

Wyatt sits down beside me. “Looks like I got back just in time,” he says, nodding toward the ice.

Wes hops up and moves to the couch with Charlie, Jake, and Graham.

“I’m sorry we got invaded like this,” I say. And I am sorry. This isn’t fair to Wyatt.

He shrugs. “It’s okay. It’s not like we don’t have the room for them.”

Aunt Camille shows up just as the first period is over. “Oh good! This will make things easier,” she says when she spots the crowd in our box.

At this point, I get a little panicky anytime a relative who’s set me up on a date says something I don’t understand. “Makes what easier?”

“Each puppy has a person! So much easier for the parade.”

On the ice, pet owners are lining up with their dogs. “Who Let the Dogs Out?” is playing over the speakers, and the dogs go nuts every time the singer makes that barking noise.

Aunt Camille starts passing around leashes. “Everyone pick a puppy and follow me!”

“What is happening?” Olivia asks.

Graham’s eyes get huge. “Are we really going out on the ice with these dogs?”

“So what if one of them poos out there?” Charlie asks.

Wes laughs. “I guess if it’s yours, you clean it up.”

Aunt Camille leads us to a side door near our box and holds it open while we file out onto the ice. I’ve never walked on ice before and I only make it about two steps before I’m sliding. My arms flail around, trying to find anything to hold on to, but it’s useless. I’m going down.

Seconds before I make a complete fool out of myself, someone grabs me by the waist and pulls me back to my feet. I expect it to be Wyatt, but it’s Wes.

“Shuffle your feet instead of trying to walk,” he says, then lets go of me. But I haven’t caught my balance yet, and I start to fall again.

His hands tighten on my hips, anchoring me to the ice. “If I let go, are you going to fall?” he asks.

My breath catches. “I think I’ve got it now.”

He whispers, “Remember: shuffle, don’t walk,” then he’s gone.

I take his advice and shuffle my way toward the starting line, my heart beating fast. Sara squeals, “Look at that cute little fluffy one wearing the crawfish costume!”

Olivia moves beside her, and they ooh and aah over the other dogs while I’m praying my feet don’t fly out from under me again. My puppy doesn’t seem to like the cold, so she’s currently trying to sit on my feet. Not helping.

Wyatt slides up next to me and stays by my side as we make our way around the rink. “Everything okay?” he asks. I nod quickly, hoping my cheeks don’t look too flushed. The barking echoes off the ice, and we pass more than one yellow spot.

Finally, we finish the lap around the rink, the Zamboni following slowly behind us, and get back to our box just as the game starts up again. Every time one of the Mudbug players smashes one of their opponents’ faces into the glass in front of us, Graham and Jake bang on it. Those poor guys are getting beat up from both sides.

I make an effort during the second period to stick close to Wyatt. We try to talk over the action in front of us — the barking dogs and the fans screaming “You suck” every time the other team loses the puck — but I feel like we’re fighting a losing battle. I’m more in tune to Wes’s movements in the box than what Wyatt’s saying right next to me.

By the time we get to the second intermission, I feel like this game can’t be over soon enough.

“How are they going to top the doggie parade from the first intermission?” Sara asks. She’s back on the floor, covered in puppies, and I know she’s already trying to figure out how to take one of them home.

A man skates out onto the ice once the players have left for the locker room. He’s wearing a tuxedo and holding a microphone; his voice booms through the arena.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he says. “It’s that time!”

The song “Kiss Me” starts playing over the speakers and red hearts bounce across the huge screen that hangs over the rink. My stomach drops.

“Here comes the Kiss Cam!” the announcer yells.

The camera stops on an older couple, and they smile and wave, then lean into each other for a quick kiss. The camera pans the crowd again, stopping on a couple who seem embarrassed. They bump heads and start laughing.

Several more couples kiss, and the song winds down. But then the announcer says, “We have a very special couple with us tonight! Sophia and Wyatt!”

And then, oh my God, there we are on the big screen.

“They’re on their first date! Hopefully it’s not too soon to get that first kiss!”

I want to crawl in a hole and die. People in the stands are yelling at us to kiss, and everyone in our box is laughing and taking pictures of us. Well, everyone except Wes. I can’t help but think about how much I wanted him to kiss me the other night.

“Well, what do you think?” Wyatt asks. His cheeks are bright red.

I glance back at Wes and our eyes meet. Then he moves out of the box and is gone.

I look back at Wyatt and nod, not sure what else to do. He leans in. Just before his lips touch mine, I shift slightly and his mouth grazes the corner of mine. It’s quick, and probably no one but the two of us know it isn’t a real kiss. The crowd goes wild.

We pull away from each other and, thankfully, we’re no longer featured on the screen.

“That was really awkward,” he whispers.

I laugh. “I’m going to kill Aunt Camille,” I say.

On the ice, kids are trying to shoot a puck into a goal from the center line for prizes. I scan the bleachers behind us to see if Wes went back to his seat. I’m dying to gauge his reaction.

But he’s gone.

***

Charlie is almost pushing us to the car once the game is over.

“We’re a half hour from my slot,” he shouts. “Keep it moving, people!”

“Where did Wes disappear to?” Olivia asks.

“He said he ran into some guys he knew at the concession stand. I think they were headed to some party,” Graham answers.

Disappointment stabs through me. Is that all it was? Or was it the kiss he thinks happened but didn’t? I shake my head clear, and Wyatt and I wave good-bye to the rest of the group.

Once Wyatt and I are in his car, he turns in his seat to look at me before cranking the engine.

“That date was pretty weird, right?”