“Why do you want my blessing?”
“Because you’re my best friend, Hugo. And I won’t do anything to hurt our friendship. My romance meter might always be at zero, but my platonic love for my friends is very high. I won’t do anything at all to jeopardize our friendship.”
I squeeze him. “You’re my best friend too. You have my blessing. I’ll give you my kidney and a lung too.”
He chuckles. “Not necessary, but thank you. Come on. Let’s get changed.”
Winny gathers his gear and we head for the chute. I let him go first because his hands are full. On our way down the hall, I spot Torin, the man who wears the Surry the Seal mascot costume. He’s really quiet, but super nice.
“Hi, Torin,” I greet, giving him my biggest smile.
His shoulders rise and he takes a step back, his face turning red. “Hi,” he says.
I wave as I continue down the hall toward the locker room. In front of my cubby, I strip from my pads until I’m bare. The air feels cool and I shiver as I grab a towel and head for the showers. I’m probably the person who takes the longest showers. I like to make sure I’m extra clean.
While I wash, I think about what Winny said. It’s really nice that he asked me about Dana. Because I feel like maybe Ishouldremember her, if for no other reason than maybe I’ve been around her a few times since she and Winny started dating, I try really hard to think about her. Winny said she was there the day that we met Coach Ajo.
But my attention had been so focused on our new coach and learning all about him that I don’t really remember much else. I remember my friends. And how Noah was nervous because he had bows in his hair and there was someone new seeing it for the firsttime. I remember asking Ajo a lot of questions that I sometimes had to rephrase so they weren’t quite so… sounding judgy or mean.
I’m not sure when or how my questions turned that way. Maybe it’s something I’ve always had. Maybe people made excuses for me growing up. I’ve heard it enough—the dumb hockey player. There’s a very real chance my questions and the way I ask them were always excused away because I’m just a ‘dumb jock.
But no matter how long I try to think about that day, I don’t remember Dana. I equally don’t remember her any time I’ve been over at Winny’s house. All I can remember is laughing with Winny and the rest of our friends. I don’t remember a girl being there at all. I feel like that’s something that would stand out since, aside from me and Winny, we’re surrounded by gay couples.
Which is cool. I love my gay friends. They’re super smart and kind and talented. But that’s the thing—Noah has Lix, Atty has Toby, and Egon has Rakesh. All men. Unless I bring a girl around, then there aren’t usually any women there.
So I should absolutely remember if I had one there with me!
I feel super sheepish by the time I get out of the shower and wrap up. What kind of shitty person blocks out an entire person? Knowing myself, I canalmostexcuse away the day at Atty’s when we found Ajo had moved in. I was hyper focused on learning all about him.
Although, I say almost because she wasmydate. It’s beyond rude to have forgotten her. I can only imagine how I brought this probably lovely girl and then basically abandoned her for the evening. Did I even drive her home after?
What kind of asshole am I?!
“What’s that look for?” Winny asks as I take my seat on the bench.
“What look?”
“You look like you’re trying to solve a quadratic equation.” He laughs. “Yes, that look right there.”
“I don’t even know what a quadratic equation is,” I mutter, feeling even more stupid.
“Neither do I. The term alone gives me nightmares. But really, Hugo. What’s wrong?”
Shaking my head, I pull my gym bag around to look for cleansocks. Even if mine weren’t sweaty and gross, there are just some articles of clothing you never put back on once they leave your body entirely. “Nothing,” I say as I pull my sweats back on and adjust my dick in them. There’s no good way to set the thing. It’s just there.
I stopped wearing underwear when I was seventeen. Yes, that young. It didn’t take me long to realize that they just don’t make underwear for my particular predicament. They’re more uncomfortable than they’re worth.
And tight pants? Anything form-fitting is miserable. Suits are terrible. My dick is simply not made for anything tight. My fucking cup was custom made, for fuck’s sake. That was an awkward conversation when I was a teen trying to explain to my coach that my cup just didn’t fit around my dick. Even the extra-large. I think we were both scarred from that conversation.
“You’re lying,” Winny argues.
The locker room is mostly empty now. Between Winny and me hanging back on the ice and then my long shower, I’m not surprised.
I shake my head again as I stick my foot in a sock. “I just feel bad that I don’t remember Dana. It makes me feel like such a dick.”
“She’s not offended. I explained to her ages ago that unless there’s someone in your immediate circle or having to do with hockey, your memory for people and names is a sieve.”
“I’m not sure that paints me in a better light,” I mutter, sticking my other foot into the second sock. There’s something in this one that makes my face scrunch. I pull it off again and stick my hand in.
