We stood there in the empty hallway with his hand on my wrist, and neither of us breathing. I felt his pulse through his fingertips. Or maybe that was mine. Maybe both.
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. For seven years, I'd been perfect, and it took five seconds of contact to undo all of it.
Heat spread up my forearm. My breath caught.
He pulled back. "I'm sorry. I just—" He didn't finish.
"Not here," I said, my voice low. "But yeah."
He pushed through the door, and I followed.
Inside, the noise had died down. Most guys had already dressed or were close. The showers still ran.
Heath went straight to his stall. Started packing without looking at anyone.
I returned to mine. Grabbed my phone from the shelf.
Three notifications. Two texts. One news alert.
I opened the alert.
IRONHAWKS WIN OPENER: MATHERS, DONNELLY BOTH SCORE—IS THERE ROOM FOR BOTH?
The article was already out there. Posted before we'd even finished the scrum.
I skimmed it.
The Chicago Ironhawks opened their season with a 3-2 victory, but the real story may be the emerging rivalry at left wing. Veteran Kieran Mathers delivered a textbook second-period goal that showcased exactly why he was drafted sixth overall, while rookie Heathcliff Donnelly announced his arrival with a gritty net-front tally that earned him first star honors and raised questions about the team's depth chart going forward.
The question facing Chicago: Is there room for both?
"We're all competing for ice time," Mathers said in the post-game scrum, declining to comment on whether positional overlap creates internal tension.
Donnelly, for his part, deflected praise with characteristic humility. "Just trying to do my job," he said, emphasizing gratitude.
With contract extension talks looming for Mathers and roster uncertainty still hanging over Donnelly's future, opening night may have set the stage for one of the season's most compelling stories. Both players proved they belong. The coaching staff now has to figure out if both can stay.
I read it twice.
Every word was factually accurate, but it was all fundamentally wrong.
We weren't competing.
We were trying to figure out how to want each other in a league that would destroy us both if anyone noticed.
The rivalry narrative was one thing that might keep people from looking too closely at why I couldn't stop watching Heath. Why I'd tapped his knee. Why my hand had stayed next to his on the table.
It gave everyone a reason to watch our dynamic without seeing what was actually there.
Heath had his equipment bag packed. Rook said something, and Heath nodded.
He slung his bag over his shoulder and headed for the door.
At the threshold, he paused. Looked back.
He caught my eye across the locker room and held my gaze for a count of three. Long enough to mean something. Not long enough to be noticed.
Then he left.
