“The photographer had to cancel, so I’m the photographer today.”
Nick stood and turned to the kids behind him. “Everybody, this is Annie. We’re going to make sure we treat her extra nice today. She’s gonna take pictures for all your moms and dads to be proud of. No stray pucks headed her way, got it?”
“Yes, Coach,” came the resounding response.
“Go stretch while I check her out,” he called.
A few kids went “oooh” and giggled, but mostly obeyed. Nickshot them a death look to silence them.
He crouched down again. “You good to stand? Would you rather have skates? The owner’s here. He could get you a pair.”
“No, I promise skates would be worse. It’s better this way, believe it or not.”
Nick narrowed his eyes at me. “What size shoe?”
“Ten and a half. Don’t make fun of my bigass feet.”
“You know I’d never, Annabelle.” He slid his arms under mine and like I was a feather, brought me up to stand. He gripped my elbows. “You good?”
“Yeah. Yeah. Just pretend I’m not here. I’ll fade into the scenery.”
He looked to the ceiling. “Like I could ever pretend you weren’t in the same room as me, Annabelle.” His cheeks went pinker as he chewed the inside of his lip. “Stay out of trouble.”
He skated off, splitting the kids into groups of skaters and goalies, setting up exercises on each end of the ice. It was a co-ed camp, and what I especially noticed was how much he treated the girls the same as the boys. He spent just as long giving them pointers, taking a knee to listen when they had questions. I got plenty of shots of the kids with their serious, focused faces, as well as them goofing off. Nick was so natural with the kids.
One of the kids took a hard hit to the throat guard, and Nick pulled him aside to triple-check for injuries. I was just close enough to hear them talking.
“It’s okay for that to shake you up. Shakes me up every time. You need a few minutes? Wanna switch to skating? There’s no shame in it. You’ve gotta have your head on straight between the pipes. Go grab some water, alright?”
He was so opposite of the toxicity that I experienced coming up in sports. None of the “shake it off” or “you’re fine.” He admitted that it scares him too. I flipped my hat around as I snapped pictures, trying to cover my hot face. I wished someone had been that kind to me as a young athlete.
The group broke for lunch, and I got my first blast of thenotoriously rotten-smelling hockey locker room. I’d been in the Nashville locker room when I had some clients there, but those are professionally managed. These kids’ parents were the ones trying to manage some absolutely rank odors. I walked into the girls’ locker room, greeted by a wall of giggles.
“I wish he’d check on me like that,” one voice said.
“Oh, I know, it was so cute! She’s so pretty too.”
I’d have been vain to think they were talking about me, but the way the voices silenced when I came in told me everything I needed to know.
“Hi, girls,” I said, with a little wave as I headed into a bathroom stall.
“You ask her.”
“No, you!” came the whispers.
When I emerged to wash my hands, I felt all of their eyes on me. One girl got shoved forward by her friend.
“So, are you Obi’s girlfriend?”
I met her eyes in the mirror with a laugh. “No. He’s a friend. His photographer had to cancel this morning, so I had to step in.”
“Friend,” one of them laughed.
I cracked a smile. “What makes you think he’s not just a friend?”
“The way he watched you when you weren’t looking.”
I shook my head. “Y’all are looking for it.”
