The camera pans across the crowd, fans laughing and waving as the Kiss Cam makes its way through the arena. You’re mid-laugh, phone in hand, when the screen suddenly flashes red and white — and your face appears right there on the jumbotron. The crowd roars, and before you can even react, the camera cuts again — this time, to the penalty box. Arber’s sitting inside, still catching his breath from the last play, helmet off and hair messy beneath the lights.

For a second, he doesn’t notice. He’s too busy glancing your way, mouthing something playful about how “that wasn’t even a penalty.” Then he hears the noise — the crowd chanting, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” — and his eyes flick toward the screen.

The smirk spreads instantly. His glove taps against the glass, motioning for you to look up. You do, cheeks warm, shaking your head in disbelief. Arber leans closer to the glass, still grinning, his voice muffled but clear enough as he mouths, “You gonna leave me hanging, babe?”

The crowd’s eating it up. His teammates on the bench are doubled over laughing. Even the refs are grinning. You laugh too, trying to hide your face, but Arber won’t let up — he presses his hand to the glass, palm open toward you like an invitation. You meet it with your own, the glass cool between your fingers and his warmth behind it.

Then he leans in and kisses the glass right where your hand is, exaggerated and dramatic, earning an even louder cheer from the stands. He pulls back with a laugh, eyes sparkling like he’s having the time of his life.

When the camera finally pans away, he stays right there, gaze still locked on you. He mouths three more words — “I’m so lucky.” — with that cocky, soft grin of his before settling back in his seat, pretending to refocus on the game.

But even from across the rink, you can see it — that proud, lovestruck look that says he’s never been happier to be caught on camera.