Chapter Nineteen
HUGO
The last fiveminutes are always stressful because I’m aware the game is wrapping up and we’re now on a deadline to at least tie it up. We’re down by two with a score of 3-5. Honestly, the New York Lights are just on their fucking game tonight. I’ve spent way more time defending than I have anything else.
Currently, I’m sitting on the bench catching my breath as my gaze scans the crowd. It takes me a minute to find Torin-as-Surry the Seal, but he’s there. About a third of the way up and taking a foam finger from someone in the crowd.
Wait, that’s not a finger. It’s a fishing net. I laugh. Torin waves it in the air before bopping the guy on the head and giving it back. He walks away, further up the stairs.
Still with a smile on my face, I take another pull of water. Glancing up at the clock, we’re at 4:18. The game is moving just barely beyond the neutral zone, back and forth as they chase the puck. One of the Lights players makes a shot, but the puck hits Wiliker’s leg and goes wide. We recover and shoot it down toward the other end while the puck skates along the wall.
Both teams dig in to chase it. Noah and one of the other players slam into the wall as they fight for possession. Noah flings it away but we’re not there to receive it so New York takes possession again.
“Fucker,”Rigbe mutters.
At the other end on the back wall, just beyond the goalie against the wall, four players fight it out for the puck—two from each team. I’m not sure who managed to actually get the puck but it pops out of their huddle.
We regain possession and Noah hits it toward the center where our defensemen are waiting. Except he misses and has to chase it. I roll my eyes. Son of a bitch. Those precious seconds allow enough time for a Lights player to catch up and close in on him.
He manages to keep the puck, makes a reverse spin and shoots it back toward the other end of the ice where Atty catches it. I missed when he got up and tagged back in. Both of our defensemen head for the bench while the puck is at the other end, so I jump back over the half wall.
Just as I get on the ice, the whistle blows. I circle back into the Lights’ zone and get in position to receive the puck. It’s mass congestion as the puck gets thrown back and forth while we all chase it.
In the end, we don’t let any more goals in. But we don’t make any more either. I’m bummed, but we’re still having a decent season, even with this loss. Noah is irritated, though I’m not sure what about. Probably a penalty he didn’t agree with.
I find I rarely agree with many penalties these days. I feel like they’re almost always one-sided. Even when that one side is in our favor. Refs should be neutral, but I don’t really think they are. They want to see a specific outcome. I’m convinced that at least half the time, they rig the games by giving one team a better penalty-game play than the other.
I spare another look for Torin. He’s near the boards now and, while it looks like he’s facing my direction, I’m not sure if he’s looking at me. In case he is, I smile and raise my stick in a wave. It could be construed for anyone, so even if he doesn’t acknowledge me and isn’t looking at me, I don’t feel stupid. We wave to the crowd all the time.
But Torin is paying attention. He jumps up and down, waving and twirling a small sweat towel in the air over his head.
Chuckling, I follow my team into the locker room with a yawn. I’m tired. That was a long game. Then again, I think I’m more tired from the games we lose. It’s probably a mental thing.Like I know we’re fighting twice as hard to catch up, so I’m extra tired.
I pull my jersey and pads over my head before dropping onto the bench to reach my skates. Dressing and undressing are almost as exhausting as playing. At the very least, it’s part of stretching.
“Hey, Hugo.” I look up as Noah pauses on his way by me. “You coming out with us tonight?”
I hesitate because I’d rather go home with Torin, but I also promised I’d be a better friend. Noah can clearly see the indecision on my face, whatever that may look like.
“Lix and Rake are tired of the bar. We were thinking of ice cream on the beach,” he adds. “Owen on the Lights is going to meet us there.”
I’ve met Owen a few times. He’s one of Noah’s gay friends. I don’t think that’s the proper way to say it. Actually, Noah gets irritated when I label someone as a gay friend. They’re just friends. Sexuality has nothing to do with friendship.
I know that, and it’s not really how I mean it. ‘Gays Can Play’ is a mouthful when you’re feeling tired and lazy, so I usually just say gay friend because I know that’s how they became friends—the NHL Gays Can Play initiative. But I know that’s wrong, so I try to keep it inside and don’t say the words out loud.
“Oh. Um…”
“Wanna see if Torin wants to join us?” Atty asks as he starts shoving off his leg pads. “I’m surprised he showed up at the bar. He looked incredibly uncomfortable there.”
He was. I nod in agreement. “Yeah, okay.”
“Ice cream is a good commiseration balm, anyway,” Winny says as he leans back on the bench, already halfway through stripping.
Losing sucks; anyone will tell you that. We’re doing okay. We’re slightly ahead in our win-loss ratio at 11-9, including tonight’s loss. Our season isn’t bad.
But as one does, we hate to lose. Especially when losing three games in a row. The New York Lights are a damn good team. Toby’s predicting good things for them this year. Even so far as to see them in the Stanley Cup against Edmonton, though he has been adding a disclaimer recently that Edmonton needs to get their asses in gear. He thinks they have the talent, but their drive lacks at times.
Personally, I don’t think the Lights are going to make it. I think it’s going to be Vegas and Edmonton. Vegas’ goalie is on his game this year. Not that he isn’t every other year, but there’s an extra chill in the air when Azure Dayne is on the ice. He wants a Cup.
