Men’s Ice Hockey Assistant Coach
Westchester University
I skip the email response and text him instead.
Hey it’s Violet. Relax, I would never block you. I just changed my number.
Mason
Well damn
Some poor stranger’s out there reading SOS messages about me being mauled by a cat
Followed by images of said mauling
You two seemed fine when I left this morning
Yes, but now the little menace realizes you’re gone
So, she’s decided to take it out on me
Wow you went from demon cat to little menace. Maybe Penny will turn you into a cat person
Unlikely
Btw are you free Friday night?
I should be, why?
We have a game against Boston College. Any interest in cheering me on?
Can you cheer for coaches? Is that a thing?
You can totally make it a thing
Sounds fun. I’m down
Great I’ll drop the tickets off at your office
twenty-five
. . .
Violet
I enterWestchester’s Ice Arena and walk to my seat, taking in the massive crowd in front of me. Nearly the entire student body is here tonight, which is unsurprising given Westchester is a hockey school through and through. Maybe that was a byproduct of the university being in one of the biggest hockey-loving cities in the nation, or maybe it was just due to the fact that our football team had one good season in the last 20 years, and we were all desperate to root for something worth our pride. I sit right as both teams come out onto the ice for warmup.
It was always exhilarating seeing Mason in his uniform, but nothing could prepare me for Mason in a suit. From the looks of it, Mason had already stress-removed his tie and unbuttoned his collar before his players hit the ice. After filing into the coaches’ section, he shrugs off his jacket to reveal a button-down gray dress shirt that clings to his muscles like a second skin. It wasprobably 55 degrees here, and the man was stripping down like it was the middle of summer. A stranger settles in the seat next to mine and I do my best to pretend that I wasn’t just ogling the coach. “Vi, is that you?”
I turn to see a face I almost didn’t recognize due to the new beard and the man bun on top of his head. “Mikey?”
A wild smile comes over his face, likely realizing I’m not here for my interest in collegiate sports. “It’s good to see you Vi. Hayesy told me you two made up.”
I never understood why the default for hockey player nicknames was to take a part of their last name and attach a ‘y’ at the end. “Yup. We’re back to being friends again.”
“Ah.Friends. Right.”
“You sound like my mother. Seriously. Just friends.”
