Ryan was thankful that Mac had let the subject of her and Step drop. She would never admit it, but over the course of the next hour, her thoughts often wandered to Step. For example, that joke he had told her the other day. She could barely remember the joke, but the image of Step cracking up, practically doubled over with laughter before he had even told the punch line had stuck with her. Ryan couldn’t help laughing too, and soon the both of them ended up collapsing on the coach, out of breath. Now that she thought about it, Step had never actually finished the joke. She mentally shook herself, changing the song from “Gold Forever” by the Wanted to “Master of Puppets” by Metallica. She couldn’t deal with any lovey-dovey crap right now. She needed to get angry for the game. After all, she had to maintain the reputation of a normal hockey player. That is, she would if she had a reputation like that. God forbid, but what would happen if one of the guys happened to look over and found her listening to a typical teenage pop song? Especially after she worked so hard to come across as ‘just one of the guys’ as Tessa liked to put it. She jumped nearly a foot in the air when Step leaned across the aisle to tap her on the shoulder. Ryan looked around guiltily before she remembered she had changed the song.

“What the hell are you listening to, Ry?” asked Step once Ryan had taken out her earphones.

“Believe me, this is far from the weirdest song on my iPod,” Ryan responded, trying to play it cool.

“Really, and what would those be?”

“That’s for me to know, and you never find out.” Just then, Torts stepped into the train car.

“Alright gentlemen, let’s get going,” He said. Torts, never one to change, had continued to refer to Ryan as he would any other player. “We’ve got the morning skate at Consol before we go to the hotel. Pregame meal’s at five in ballroom three. Don’t be late.” He turned around and left the train, expecting everyone else to follow behind, which they did. Ryan insisted on the window seat on the bus, wanting to compare Pittsburgh to her new home. She was a little nervous that the hometown of the Penguins would rival her newly beloved city of New York, but her fears were unfounded. The gloom of the Steel City could never compare to the magic of the Big Apple. But that didn’t stop Ryan from casting aside her tough façade for the bus ride, content to ogle at everything out the bus window like a tourist. After all, Ryan had never been anywhere outside of where her hockey travels had taken her, and that was nowhere near Pittsburgh. She had slowly inched closer to the glass, craning her neck to try to see a building they had passed, when the bus hit a pothole and Ryan’s head collided with the glass. She was stunned for a moment, but turned around quickly, hoping no one had seen. Of course, the entire bus was erupting in laughter. Ryan sank down as far as possible in her seat without looking weirder than she already did, face burning. Even the whole lesbian waitress fiasco had been preferable to this.

“Hey guys, I think we might have to keep a closer eye on Davey,” said Boyler. “She seems to like Pittsburgh too much. Can’t have her jumping ship.” Ryan just groaned. She was never going to live this one down either. It seemed that with every new week there was a new embarrassing moment that Ryan was sure would haunt her for life. She was relieved when they finally reached the home of the Pittsburgh Penguins. Ryan knew, no matter how upset she was, every situation seemed brighter on the ice. Of course, things usually darkened the second she unlaced her skates, but she tried to put that off as long as possible.

It felt weird to skate at a place that was regarded as hallowed ground by those who could be considered Ryan’s sworn enemies. Instead of the name Messier hanging from the rafters, there was Lemieux. The familiar ‘This is New York Hockey’ and ‘Let’s Go Rangers’ banners were replaced with those urging the success of the Penguins. The visitors’ locker room was cold and bare; the paper labels placed on a locker with her name and number hastily scrawled on it reminded Ryan of training camp. But the most unsettling was the logo predominantly displayed at center ice. She had played in plenty of away games throughout the years, but never had an arena felt this foreign. Ryan could only guess as to the cause of this sudden uprising of feelings. Maybe she was just in a weird mood after her conversation with Mac. Maybe it was the lingering embarrassment of looking like a fool on the bus. Or maybe this feeling wasn’t new. Maybe this is how she always felt in every arena because she knew she wouldn’t be there for long. Her goal had always been to move on to better leagues and bigger arenas. But now, Ryan had found Madison Square Garden, an arena she wanted to call her own forever. Regardless, Ryan skated resolutely over the Penguin on ice skates. She was stretching, still staring at the logo, when Step skated next to her, purposefully covering her in ice shavings as he stopped short.

“Wanna know what I always wondered?” he asked.

“What?” Ryan was still in a bad mood, disgruntled at being the butt of yet another joke.

“Why the hell does a Penguin need ice skates?” Step glanced at Ryan’s clearly befuddled expression before continuing. “I mean, don’t they just slide around on their stomachs or something? Ice skates seem unnecessary. Plus, I’m sure squeezing webbed feet into a pair of ice skates that you don’t really need wouldn’t be the most comfortable. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Yes, I’m sure the whole Penguins franchise will quit once they realize their logo isn’t 100 percent accurate.”

“That’s all I’m asking,” said Step with a wink before they were called to center ice by Torts.