Always pushing my name, of course.
We pause at the crossroads, and Tomy leans up on his toes to kiss me. It’s barely more than a peck, but it makes my stomach roll. Not in disgust or anything like that. Tomy is far too good to ever make me feel that way. But for some reason, I feel disloyal right now. I’m not sure who I feel disloyal to. One makes sense, but the other feels more accurate.
I watch him head to the movie store and attempt to reinforce that I’m here with him. Tomy is the one I’m going home with at the end of the night. I came to Kala with Tomy, and I’m leaving with Tomy.
Well, I’m leaving as far as L.A., and then we’re getting on separate flights to head to our respective homes, but still. For this trip, I’m with Tomy Hollister.
With a heavy sigh, I turn to the sports shop and head inside. As I suspected, it’s a mix of all sports. There are pennants hanging around the perimeter, with a tool on each of them; a distinct soccer ball, a goal post with an American football, a baseball and bat… there’s hockey, the familiar crossed hockey sticks with a puck between them.
Does that mean the store has something from every sport they represent on the pennants? There are a lot of pennants. The store looks decent-sized, but that’s still a lot of sports.
Ah, there it is. Not hidden in the corner at any rate. There’s a table with three tiers and a rack beside it filled with shirts and jerseys. And there’s a cool blanket on display with all the logos of the league. That’s really cool.
“Larson?”
My heart nearly stops. I’ve been to Kala a couple of times, and I’m never recognized. It’s one of the reasons I love Kala. It’s cool as fuck when someone recognizes you in the grocery store or pumping gas, but when it happens repeatedly, you remember that your life is never truly private.
Kala is supposed to be private.
I turn, and my heart stops when I see Dylan standing there. He’s holding a softball in his hand. As I look at him, I wonder if there’s actually any place to play these sports. Would you really come to a place like Kala with no professional team and buy sports memorabilia? Seems weird, but it happens, I guess.
“Hi,” I say.
He stares, and I can’t look away. Oh fuck. Why am I so spellbound by this man? Why does my heart race like this?
“Are you a sports fan?” Dylan asks.
I nod somewhat dumbly before I shake my head out of the clouds. “I play hockey.”
He tilts his head to the side and glances at the stuff behind me. “Hockey?”
“Uh-huh. I’m a center for the Purple Fins.”
“Professional hockey?”
“Yeah.”
Dylan smiles. “That’s so cool. Are you good?”
“I like to think I am. My stats are pretty good, and I’m getting better every year.”
“Do you get into a lot of fights on the ice?”
“You watch hockey?” I ask excitedly.
“Meh,” he says, shaking his hand. “I don’t watch anything religiously, but I’ve stopped on a game or two when I’m flicking through channels. Because of where Kala is located, it’s hard to catch games when they’re streaming live since we’re closer to Mexico than the US, you know?”
“That sucks, but don’t you get streaming? Wait, you live here, right?”
“I live on Bane, yes. And yes, we get streaming, but you’d have to seek it out, and I generally choose an app on any given day and click through the home screen until something catches my attention.”
“So you click through Sports Spot from time to time,” I say.
He smiles, and goddamn, the way my chest heats with excitement. “Yep. I’ve been known to get sporty from time to time.”
“Do you play softball? You can play sports on Kala?”
“There are a couple fields around the school on Bane. No ice, though. Sorry.”
