“Hey,” Julian greets back. “For the record, I know we sucked tonight. No need to rub it in.”
Both guys laugh.
“Dude,” the other one says, shaking his head. “There’s no cohesion in Chicago.”
Julian huffs. “I know.” He twists in his seat and looks into the back. “This is Noah,” he says of the pretty one. “And Hector. This is my friend, Arush.”
All those butterflies in my stomach just collapsed. Friend. That’s all I am? I glance at Julian, trying to get a read on him, but he’s just smiling. I try to return it, but right now, I feel like I just swallowed bugs, and it’s not a good feeling.
This is going to be a long night and I’m going to be stuck in my head the entire time.Friend!
CHAPTER 15
JULIAN
I droponto the bench during the second intermission and close my eyes. We’re well on our way to losing by another shutout. We can’t seem to get out of our own way.
There are days we can say the refs are making shitty calls. That’s true of nearly every game. They don’t call shit that should be called and call stupid crap that shouldn’t be bothered with. There are four sets of eyes on the ice too, so it’s truly unnecessary.
Tonight isn’t one of the bad nights. If anything, I think the refs are calling crap that are in our favor and westillcan’t get on the fucking board.
Worst yet, we’re losing to Anaheim. It’s fucking pathetic. They’ve become such a nasty team, though tonight they feel almost subdued since the last time we played them. They’ve been on a downward spiral to becoming as hostile as Tampa and the New York Gulls. Last season, they were giving those two teams a run for their money on who could be the nastiest on the ice. I watched highlights from a game between Tampa and Anaheim last year… It was the worst thing I’d ever seen.
Growing up, there’s a lot of hype about how fans love the fights but to be honest, it gets old pretty quickly. The constantgame stops. The unnecessary penalties. By the time I hit college, I was over the fighting on ice and just wanted to play the game. I wanted to watch a game from start to finish without having to stop every two minutes because someone needed to measure their dicks.
Tonight hasn’t been bad except for our play. I look around the locker room and can feel the lackluster in my teammates. We’re already defeated. We’ve already lost the game. We could walk out right now and be fine with it.
We’ve been sitting there for a few minutes when Coach Taylor steps into the locker room and looks around. I can feel his frown, even if it’s not pointed at me. But why shouldn’t it be? I haven’t scored tonight either. Fuck, unless I grab the puck myself, I’ve barely had the puck. Our teamwork isn’t just breaking down. It’s simply nonexistent tonight.
“No more goals in the net,” Coach says. “I’d really like to see you make a goal tonight, but I’ll be satisfied if you stop letting goals in. Can you do that?”
I think he’s talking to Patrik, but when I glance up, he’s looking around the room at everyone.
“This is a team sport and for some reason, you feel incredibly disjointed tonight. What’s up?” Coach asks. “Why aren’t we passing more? Where are our attempts on goal? You’ve had three power plays and still couldn’t keep the puck. Tell me what the problem is.”
I shake my head. I’ve been asking myself this question for the last couple of months now. There’s definitely a breakdown somewhere. But I’m not sure where it is.
No one answers. Coach shakes his head. “No more goals, boys. You have another period to turn this around. I think you can do it. But what I think isn’t going to do you any good is if you’ve already decided you’ve lost.”
He leaves the locker room. Someone’s stick falls. Someone huffs loudly. I absently wonder how many of my teammates pray for a trade at the end of the season. I haven’t gotten to that point yet. Notquiteyet. My prayers are all about getting this team to turn itself around and scrape together some damn effort so we can pick our dignity up off the ground.
I allow my mind to wander, which is something I never do during a game. But it seems we’ve all checked out, and it’s impossible to be the only one who cares. Then again, maybe my mind isn’t wandering so much as it is wondering what Arush is doing right now.
Watching this disaster of a game, probably. The worst part of tonight isn’t going to be our loss. It’s going to be going to the hotel room and Arush not being there. With a few minutes left of the intermission, I get to my feet and stretch. My phone is flashing with a message.
It’s rare that I even touch my phone during breaks, but I pick it up and a grin covers my face when I see that it’s a text from Arush. He’s never texted me during a game before. I pull it down on the screen so I can see the whole thing.
Arush
OMG, that save was awesome. Did you see it? Your goalie did so good!
Sorry, I shouldn’t have messaged during your game. Good luck. I think you can make a difference tonight!
My head tilts to the side.I think you can make a difference tonight.Can I? I glance around the locker room and decide that maybe I can. But not in my current capacity. I can’t keep fighting for the puck with no help. That’snotgetting us anywhere tonight.
Maybe I can help Patrik instead. Make a more concentrated effort to protect the goal with him since our defense seems to be falling short. I don’t think I’ve seen a single one of them where they needed to be tonight.
We file back out, and I commit to my plan. Losing in a shutout sucks. There’s very little that sucks more than that. Except losing in a shutout when the other team has scored a significant number of goals against you.
