That’s how it was starting to date Kitty. I’d pictured her cheering me on and waiting for me after hockey games. I imagined parties where we’d play beer pong as a team. I imagined watching all of her comedy shows and being so excited to kiss her when she was done.
All those things came true. Some of them were better. Like how I’d hear her filthy sailor’s mouth while she screamed for me at hockey games. She doesn’t have a high-pitched girly voice, but more of a smooth voice for radio. I could always pick out her angry alto when she let loose some sort of abuse toward the other team. Sometimes I thought if we were short a player we could throw her in a sweater and some skates and get her out there chirping along with us.
I loved how she jumped into my arms as soon as I left the locker room, whether we won or lost. How I had someone to whisper things to at parties, and it was the same someone every time. How we had inside jokes and spent our last minutes before falling asleep making each other laugh. And those after-showkisses were my favorite. I liked to pick her up and plant a big kiss on her until she kicked her feet and squealed.
But there was stuff about dating Kitty that I didn’t predict. I underestimated how amazing it would be to have her around more and wake up with someone I loved. I’d spent so long telling myself I wasn’t good enough for her because of my dad. But really, there wasn’t any getting around being in love with Kitty.
Since we spent more time together, she tested out her joke material on me. She was working on a portfolio for a summer writing internship, hopefully with SNL or one of the late-night shows based in New York. I was always a willing test audience, though she really didn’t need me. She knew what was funny and what needed work.
Some stuff sucked. Frank had backed down how much he was talking to me. Even though we made up after he hit me, he still wasn’t overly thrilled Kitty and I were an item. I had my friends on the team, but he and Kitty had been my deepest, longest friends. Kitty swore he’d come around eventually, once he saw us sticking together. Kitty was also pretty busy between all the comedy shows, writing new content, and her regular course load. I still had her for all the math help, which we always did after her improv show over a waffle and some tea.
No matter what, I tried to end up in her bed, or with her in mine, whenever I could. We’d lay facing each other and talk about our days. That was my favorite part of any day, taking down all the walls we’d put up and tuning into each other. Kitty never made me feel like a meathead for loving hockey, nor did she put me on a pedestal like the girls who chased after me did. She just supported me, and I supported her.
So yeah, I was a little tired at practice. I was in love. Sue me.
But notably, Kitty hadn’t said she loved me back. I understood to some degree. I’d put her through the wringer all those years before, kissed her while I was with someone else, and always treated her like she was a dirty little secret. She needed time withme loving her out loud. She needed to know that I wasn’t going to screw her around. I didn’t want to push her. She was entitled to some groveling time. She’d always love me as a best friend and in time, I trusted that she’d love me as her everything.
I could tell Mikey’s little comment on the ice had some knives behind it. Colton and Violet were a regular thing, and it was getting toward the end of the fall semester. Of our trio, two of us were in relationships.
Mikey found any opportunity to make jabs at Colton and me about dating. That day at practice, Coach had us finish with a bag skate, which is fucking brutal. I knew we had it coming, since we’d lost to Dartmouth the weekend before. I was looking forward to stuffing my face and napping before my evening class, maybe seeing if Kitty was free to cuddle.
Mikey was a hell of a defenseman and generally a goofy guy, but he had a wild temper sometimes. It’s probably what made him such a good defenseman. But he despised bag skates more than anyone I knew. He’d also just been grouchy in the last week or so. Between the terrible practice and his attitude, he was clearly agitated heading into the locker room.
“You coming to the Kappa party tomorrow?” he asked as we left the showers.
“Maybe late. Kitty has a show in Boston.” I got my clothes out of my bag. I sat on the bench for a minute, as I never really stopped sweating after practice, even with the shower.
“Could have called that,” Mikey muttered. “Colt?”
Colton shifted his eyes to me. “Depends what Violet’s doing. I might be going to Boston, too.”
“Cool, I’ll just hang out with the freshmen you two aren’t fucking then,” Mikey spat. “I’m sure Zac or Spencer will want to party on campus.”
“Actually, I’ve got a date,” Zac cut in.
Mikey spiked his water bottle into his locker. “Are you fuckingkidding me? Why does everyone want the same pussy all the time now? Did I miss a memo?”
Colton met my gaze again. It was time for a boys’ heart-to-heart.
“You know you’re welcome to come with us, Mike,” I said.
“I don’t want to go to your freshman girlfriend’s stupid comedy show! I’m sick of being your fifth wheel,” Mikey raged.
I bit my tongue to keep from defending Kitty because I knew he actually liked her. They were friends, too. He was pushing it, but I knew it wasn’t really about her.
“Ben, come on, man. Don’t be mean about Kitty,” Colton said, trying to cool Mikey down. We so rarely used his actual first name that I was jarred by him calling Mikey, Ben.
“It doesn’t fucking matter,” Mikey mumbled, wiping his skates and slamming them in his bag. “You’re both leaving in a semester and I’ll be alone senior year. I may as well get used to being without you.” His face went so red it brought out more red in his hair.
Colton had been drafted by Tampa Bay and I was off to Seattle. Mikey’s a killer defenseman, but he didn’t quite have the skills to get drafted before junior year. He was facing potential time in a European league or the AHL until he got his skills up to par. I was going to miss him a lot, and I did have some guilt issues about leaving him behind. And Kitty. That’s a whole year more we could have together. When you’re a person with a family of one, friends and girlfriends become really important.
So the root of Mikey attacking Kitty was about us leaving, not about Kitty.
“Mikey, you know it’s not like that, man,” Colton said. “We want to hang out still.”
“Then hang out! Go to parties! Stop spending every spare second with your dicks in your girlfriends.” Mikey got impassioned again. “And Stelle, you and Kitty need to pipe down. I don’t need constant proof as to why you’re called G-Spot. She’s a loud comer and it’s fucking annoying. First it’s you, ‘Ride my face, Birdy,’” hesaid with an exaggeration of my accent. Then he imitated Kitty’s voice. “‘Oh, God, Guy, harder, Guy. Fill up my pussy, Guy.’”
The rest of the team was definitely paying attention now, some of them standing as I did, sensing a fight on the wind.
