“You don’t wanna splurge on a jersey?” He pointed to the wall of them. “You got a hundred bucks. Go wild.”
“I’m good. That jersey is my favorite one, plus I’m freezing and want something snuggly.”
“Snuggly it is.” He rocked back on his heels, and his face lit up as another large guy approached us. “Sam, dude.”
“Reiner!” The guys did a prolonged bro hug with a lot of back patting. Sam hit Michael in the arm like three times. “What the fuck are you doing here? How is this possible?”
“Small world.” Michael smiled real wide and pointed over his shoulder. “I’m with Central.”
I loved seeing Michael like this, energized and happy. It was clear seeing an old friend pleased him, and my insides got all tingly.
“Wait, you’re playing for them? No fucking way! That’s sick.”
“No, not playing.” He ran a hand over his hair. “Interning with the coach.”
“Bro, that is so you.” Sam hit his chest again. “I called it. I swear.”
“What do you mean?”
“You being a coach. It makes perfect sense.” An older woman said Sam’s name from behind him, and he sighed. “I’m helping my mom get holiday gifts for everyone. In October.”
“Never can be too early,” Michael said, laughing. “Are you just visiting, or do you go here?”
“I go here, yeah. Working on my masters.” Sam’s face reddened just a bit. “Got injured two years ago and never really returned back to normal. I miss it but not as much as I thought.”
“It was good seeing you, man. Stay in touch.” Michael pulled him back into a hug.
“For sure. Let me know when you get a coaching gig. I’ll harass you online obviously.”
Watching Michael light up caused a sticky warm feeling around my heart. The clear joy on his face and his former teammate’s was a testament to who he was. He brought people happiness, and I wanted to hug him, hard.
“Same old Sam.” Michael’s smile remained once Sam joined his mom, and after a few seconds, he looked at me. “Shit, was that rude? I should’ve introduced you.”
“Oh no, don’t worry.” We moved up a few spaces in line to buy the sweatshirt. “You didn’t have long to talk. I’m guessing an old hockey buddy?”
“Yeah, we played with each other like… eight years ago. When I was in high school. He lived back east for a year then his dad got reassigned.” His eyes were unfocused, and he kept tapping his fingers at his sides. “You hear what he said?”
“About you being a coach? Yeah, I did.” I smiled and reached over to squeeze his forearm. His fidgeting was kinda cute. “Is that what has you all worked up?”
“A bit. I just… why did he say that?”
“Because he means it? You have a natural charisma, Michael. It’s very obvious, and I know you said you couldn’t sharewhathappened, but you calling out behavior in the locker room even though it’s not your role? That’s what leaders do. They aren’t afraid to rock the boat if it’s the right thing. You keeping it secret despite the fact they aren’t your team? That’s leadership. Maybe it’s weird for you to be watching the game instead of playing it, but in the short time I’ve known you, it’s clear hockey is always going to be in your life.”
“I could kiss you right now.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he met my gaze again, my stomach flip-flopped with the warmth and trust swirling in his blue eyes.
He could kiss me. He said that. To me. With his mouth. My mind got fuzzy, like when I stayed up too late and woke up early the next morning. Was he thinking about ouralmostkiss as well?
“Next!” a woman screeched from behind the counter. We didn’t move though. He stared at me like he was about to kiss me but then the woman yelled again. “You two, let’s go.”
Shit. That was us. Holding up the line thinking about a kiss.Get it together, Fletcher.
I bought the sweatshirt and put the dirty one in the new bag. We left the shop and found a small cut out where people wouldn’t run into us. “You can have your sweatshirt back.”
“Thanks.” He took it from me and put it on in one smooth motion. “I was being a real hero, but damn, I was cold.”
“Such a nice guy,” I said, teasing him. His smile fell a little bit, and it was like a rock formed in my gut. Did I do something?
“I’m really glad we’re friends, Fletcher,” he said, his voice as serious as his expression. It might’ve been my imagination, but he said the wordfriendswith more oomph.
