“Hey, lover boy, we just ran into your girl,” Jensen teases as he throws open the door to mine and Costy’s shared room, with Costy and Brett on his heels.
“Shut up,” I scoff.
If I thought I was distracted before running into her, I’m completely fucked now. She might as well be on top of my head with my hair in her hands and controlling me like that rat from Ratatouille. I am a puppet to my own desire.
“Where might that be?” My curiosity was getting the best of me.
Cam hops on the sofa and lands on the cushion beside me. “At a little ice cream place nearby. She wasn’t alone either.”
My heart sinks, poisoning my stomach and making me feel sick.
“Oh, ya?” I ask, feigning boredom. I peek over at Burnsy on the couch to my other side and see him grinning.
Am I that bad at hiding my feelings?
“Yeah, the guy was a total stud muffin. They were holding hands when we first saw them,” Cam says with a laugh trying to break through his grin.
Fuck.
Shrugging, I take a deep inhale through my nose and calmly exhale. My pulse is racing at the thought of being so close to her again, yet so far from really being with her. She has always been my vulnerability, my soft spot. When we were together, she occupied every part of my mind. Being in the near vicinity of her again has my mind spiraling into what-ifs.
I’ve never been with anyone since her that has made me feel so transparent, not in how she doesn’t see me, but in how she sees everything. The slightest inflection in my voice, the things that make me smile, the sadness in the drop of my shoulders, the smallest things that anyone else wouldn’t notice. But not her, never her. She always read me like a book, spread wide open.
Since her, I’ve struggled with being with anyone for more than a month because there always seemed to be a disconnect. She ruined me all those years ago, and I’m worried that I’ll never find anyone else, more so that I’ll never want anyone else.
Costy and Jensen break into full-body laughter, and tingles immediately break across my back from anxiety.
“What the fuck are you two up to?” I demanded them to answer, “She wasn’t with someone, was she? God, you guys are such fuckers.”
Jensen finally catches his breath. “No, she was definitely with someone, but I think it was her little brother.”
“Fuck you both,” I scoff but can’t resist the tug of my lips. “I should have known you would try to pull some shit.” Costy yanks the TV remote from the table in front of me. “True. It’s your own damn fault for taking the bait.” He laughingly scoffs, “We did ask her about you, though.”
“I wish you wouldn’t have and that you would just leave it the hell alone, boys.”
Costy side-eyes me, “You know Jensen cannot leave anything alone. And I am dying to see how this all pans out since she literally ran away from you. What did you do, Kos?”
That’s a question that I haven’t been able to answer myself. I have no idea. Granted, we broke up, but that doesn’t explain the reaction she had. Her eyes were so raw with emotion when she saw me. Starting with pain and then quickly transforming to disdain, anger, and sadness. Is she mad I’m back in town? Is she mad about our breakup all of those years ago? The questions sit in my mind like an itch that I can’t fucking scratch.
“Honestly, man, I have no clue,” I sigh, racking my brain for a possible answer. “But I intend on finding out.”
I slap my stick against the ice, calling for the puck. We’re scrimmaging at practice today. My line has the puck, and we cross into our opponent’s zone. Costy shoots me the puck, and I catch it on the backhand of my stick and skate towards the net, not too far, but far enough to pull the defenders in. I swipe my stick across the ice, and the puck glides over to Burnsy, who one tap passes it to Costy.
I fight my way to the front of the blue crease, the goalie’s crease, and wait for a shot. They pass the puck back and forth, forcing the defense to adjust, and then Burnsy slaps the puck, and it fires at us. Lifting my stick slightly, I line it up perfectly. The puck hits my stick and deflects into the net.
Goal!
The boys and I bump helmets, celebrating on our way to the center ice. The winning team stays on, and the losing team switches to a different group. We’ve been on for the last four goals. The next line skates out, and we set up for the puck drop. One of the coaching assistants is reffing today. He crouches down with the puck in hand. I usually take the face-off whenever I can. I have the best winning face-off percentage of anyone on the team. The puck drops, and I slap it back between my legs to Costy. The second it’s through, I’m opening myself up to him and skate towards the opposing zone.
One of our other forwards, Charlie, steals the puck from him and takes off on a breakaway toward our goalie, MacArthur. Charlie is one of our younger players. He’s really good and skates on our fourth line. He flies down the ice as we all chase after him. He dukes Macky out and backhands the puck into the top shelf of the net. It was a great play that you couldn’t even be mad at. Well not entirely true. I can be mad at Costy for letting him take the puck away. We skate off and join the rest of our team on the bench while waiting for our line to play again.
“I’m glad to know your parents didn’t completely fail you. At least you know how to share,” Jensen teases Costy. “Fuck off,” he laughs. “At least I had a goal that entire shift.”
“You’re expected to, or did you forget your job, Mr. Forward?” Jensen chirps back.
“Alright, alright. Settle down, ladies,” Larinski shouts over them.
I’m thankful for practice today. Being on the ice always calms my mind and makes things clearer. Usually, that happens, but not now; that would be too damn easy. I need to see her again, talk to her and see what she’s thinking. Maybe if we talk it out, I won’t feel so…fucked. I didn’t even know a person could hold so much emotion inside of them. It’s overwhelming, all encompassing, absolutely fucking frustrating, and I wouldn’t change a thing.
The next line is defeated, and they skate back over. We’re up, taking the ice; a serene calmness falls over me. The sensation of confidence on the ice, on my line, and that we are going to bury this puck in the net. We skate into the opposing zone, Burnsy in possession of the puck. He dishes it over to me, and I guide it towards Costy, who is now in the huddle in front of the net. I slap it back to Burnsy, who one touch passes it back to me. I wind up for a one-timer, and the second the puck is in place, I fire.
“Whoo!” Costy cheers as the puck flies into the back of the net. “That’s what I’m talking about, baby!”
One-timers are my signature. I’m sinking it every time if I have a straight line to the net and a good pass.
After a bit more scrimmaging, we wrap up practice with some puck-handling skills and call it a day. Later tonight, we’re doing a full face-off practice game, so we need to get some food, or we’ll all pass out later. The boys decide on Qdoba, and we all meet there. I always feel bad for places when the entire team shows up because we roll about twenty-five deep on a good day. Surprise, I hope you don’t plan on taking a break anytime soon.
Costy and I make it through the line and find a table to sit at when my phone vibrates in my pocket. The name, Mom, flashes across the screen. I answer the call.
“Hey, Mom, what’s up?” I ask as I take my first bite of queso. Qdoba’s food must have drugs in it because I have to get my fix almost weekly. My usual go-to is the nachos with adobo chicken. But lately I’ve been murdering chips and queso or a quesadilla.
“Hi sweetie, are you busy?” she asks, which she does every time, even though I have told her that if I’m busy, I don’t pick up, and if I answer, I can talk.
“Just grabbing some food. What are you and Dad doing?”
“We are running some errands and just wanted to call and check in since it’s been a little while,” she says sweetly. “Anything new?”
Glancing up, I debate on mentioning Laura but am completely distracted by Cam, whose entire mouth is around his burrito. I stare at him in disbelief, and it takes him a second to notice me since he’s over there making love to his food. He shrugs and continues eating. Thankfully for everyone else, we don’t have to watch him give the burrito a blow job as he starts taking smaller bites. “You there, honey?” My mom asks, and I redirect my attention to her.
“Yeah, sorry. Costy, or Cam, was being… well, Cam.”
I say, trying to hold back a laugh. “Everything’s good.” I rub the back of my neck, “I ran into Laura from high school.”
“What?” my mom asks in a controlled panic, and I immediately stop chewing. “You ran into her?”
I finish chewing and swallowing, “Yeah? Why are you being weird? It was fine for the most part.”
There’s a pause of silence before she finally responds, “Okay, well, try not to get caught up in any old drama. That is such a far-gone part of your life. I would just avoid her at all costs if I were you. You don’t want to piss her off and have her run to the media about it.”
She wouldn’t do that. A twinge of anger tightens my jaw at my mom’s words. But I know better than to start a fight with her. She’ll never drop it until her point is proven. She won’t even try to understand mine.
“Okay, I’ll do my best,” I lie to her.
If Laura and I were still together, I would be racing to her right now.
“Good. Keep me updated if anything happens. I just want the best for you, Alec. I always have,” she says; the undertone of sadness in her voice haunts me.
“I know. I’m going to go finish eating and try to take a nap or something before another scrimmage tonight. I love you guys,” I tell her, unable to shake the twisted gut feeling that formed from this conversation.
“We love you too, our sweet boy. Talk soon, okay?” she asks as if no would ever be the answer.
“Okay, bye.”
“Bye.”
A haunting feeling trickles down my spine. I try to shake it as I direct my attention to Costy.
“I really don’t want to have to go speak at a class tomorrow. Like, why is Coach making us do this?” Costy sighs.
“I don’t know. Probably team bonding? Publicity? It’s always about publicity,” I say truthfully.
I wonder if Laura is going to school, and if she is, I wonder if she’ll be there.
“What class is it?” I ask with a beat of hope in my chest.
“I don’t know. I have to look. Why? You want to take my place?” he asks, laughing. “By all means, it’s yours.” “Tell me the class name, and I’ll let you know,” my mind starts plotting how to run into Laura again. “Alright, hold on,” Costy says and scrolls through his phone.
I unlock my phone and open social media, looking for one particular blonde. Gotcha. Lauren Hendricks.
I remember seeing our college’s logo on something she posted. I quickly message her to see if she can secretly check in on something. I know I’m abusing some power right now, but everything is excusable when it comes to Laura. I know Lauren answers fast. She’s very active on my accounts, liking and commenting. But I also know that she does it to every NHL player because I always see her name on their shit too. I couldn’t care less about it, but I’m thankful that she’s still a puck bunny after all these years.
She answers almost immediately. She says she is happy that I reached out and she would do whatever I needed. Perfect. I answer her. Cam turns his phone for me to see, and I snap a picture of the class name, attaching it with my message.
Me: Can you see if Laura Young is enrolled in this class for me? Is she even a student? I will owe you big time.
I’ll have Jensen or some guy on the team flirt with her on occasion if it means I get another run-in with Lu. Hell, if the price of her answers were my kidney, I’d cut it out myself.
