The Panthers’ performance overall was looking good, but if we didn’t split the next two games Tuesday and Wednesday, we’d be headed back to Alberta, and I’d be on that flight, inevitably bumping elbows with the man who’d officially confused my senses.
I stayed home both game nights, even though every part of me wanted to be rinkside. The thought of running into him made me grip my couch pillow tightly, hoping it could absorb playoff romantic angst through osmosis.
Fortunately, we won both games. So, no Alberta, and no hotel hallway run-ins, pretending we hadn’t kissed like it was water in the desert.
Relief wasn’t quite it. A lump lodged in my throat, stubborn as a popcorn kernel that refused to budge. I dived into work to stay afloat. I tailored Dad’s résumé, applied for jobs in six-tab shifts, and tried not to feel the weight of the roles of parents and children that had flipped.
Thursday at 6 p.m., I was sitting in my car in the Tahoe West parking lot, windows cracked, FaceTime queued up. It was the best place to talk freely with my friend without worrying that my voice echoed throughout our hallowed house.
Erica picked up after one ring, the morning sun pouring behind her in a postcard perfect scene. Her hair up in a bun, and a coffee mug half the size of her head was in one hand.
“Hey, you,” she said. “How’s California life?”
I smiled. “Hey. Same old. Is that a Thai temple in your background?”
“It’s just my kitchen. But honestly, same level of devotion.”
I laughed.
“By the way,” Erica went on, “before the whole job talk, Josh and I were talking—you should come visit. The guest room’s yours. No debate.”
“That would be amazing. Maybe next year, once I’ve banked some PTO?”
“Deal. We’ll make plans then.” She leaned in, her eyes twinkling gossip-eager. “So… what’s new?”
“Puck-wise? Tahoe’s crushing it in Round Two.”
“Of course it is! You totally buried the lead!” she cheered.
I laughed, a good one that shook my chest.
“So, are you rinkside with pom-poms now?”
“Not rinkside this week, but I’ve been around.”
Erica tilted her head, leaning in through the screen, giving me that look only a best friend could pull off. “You know you can’t avoid him forever.”
I pulled a face, hating that she was right. Hating more that I didn’t even know what I would say if I saw him. “He’s a big deal, and he practically has a VIP suite in my brain.”
“I get it,” she said. “He’s in the media constantly, coaches one of the top NHL teams, and you saw something at the curb… Honestly, Mel, he’s probably spooked too.”
“Him? Spooked?”
“Look, give it the weekend. No man deserves free rent in your head—your words, senior year.”
I smiled. Erica knew me too well. She was the one who got me through the humiliation of being passed over for a paycheck. And she’d be the first to remind me that relationships come with their own messes—from experience, she’d add smugly while sipping wine.
“At least you didn’t sayfrom experience.”
“Oh, it totally is.”
We chuckled.
“So, this weekend is all-hands-on-deck for Sam’s graduation party planning,” I said.
“You guys are still going through with it?”
“Yes, we are. She’s worked so hard. She has to feel special next Saturday.”
