I glance out of the corner of my eye at her and almost crack a smile. She’s burrowed into her coat, almost as if she’s trying to escape me, but instead she looks like a marshmallow. Her cheeks are rosy, and I’m not sure if it’s because of the cold or me scolding her.
We pull up to a stoplight at an intersection on the main part of campus, and I drum my fingers absentmindedly against the steering wheel.
“Why’d you pick goalie?”
Her question comes out of nowhere, breaking the silence. “Why do you ask?”
She shrugs, the movement small with the puffiness of her coat. “I don’t know, just trying to make conversation.”
“So you want to talk now?”
“I want to talk about something interesting. Not you bossing me around.”
“I like to drive in peace.”
“So you don’t even listen to music?”
I sigh. “If you want to listen to music, fine. Just don’t play any of that pop shit I’m sure you listen to.”
“Oh, shocker, the big man thinks his music taste is so superior.” She holds her hands up, mocking me, and it both irritates and amuses me.
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you implied it.”
“Whatever. Just connect your phone.”
“I don’t want to listen to music. It hasn’t been the same since my favorite band broke up.”
I glance over at her to see heractuallypouting.
“Don’t judge, okay? I’ve been listening to them since I was in high school! They were my favorite for like ten years, and I’ve been in mourning ever since.”
The light changes and I accelerate, the streets surprisingly quiet for a Friday night. “I’m not judging.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Alright, I am.”
Lennon chuckles, and I shake my head lightly.
“But seriously, why did you pick goalie?” She shifts in her seat so she’s angled toward me, intently waiting for my answer.
“My dad was a goalie.” I find myself giving her an honest answer, and it surprises us both. “And growing up, I wanted to be just like him. Still do, I guess. But my older brother never took a liking to it and became a defenseman, so it felt like it was my position to step into.”
“That’s actually really sweet,” she says softly, and when I look at her as I turn right, she smiles. “I thought you were going to say something shallow.”
“Like what?” I snort.
“Like all the hottest guys play goalie or something.” As soon as she says it, she jerks back slightly with wide eyes. Embarrassment washes over her face as she squirms in her seat. “I didn’t mean it—You know what I mean.”
I do know what she means, but at the same time, I can’t help but feel a little spark of something in my gut at her words.
What I want to say right now is,So you think I’m hot?but what I actually do, because she’s my player and I’m her coach and there are boundaries that cannot be crossed, is reflect her question back onto her. “Why did you pick goalie?”
She tucks her hands beneath her thighs as she settles down. “I loved hockey growing up, but I was never a fast skater. I tried for the first couple years to improve and keep up on a line, butit just wasn’t for me. When I was eleven, one of my coaches suggested I give goalie a shot during practice one day, and that was that. I fell in love with it.”
“It takes a special kind of person to love it.”
