“You look knackered, Jamie,” Veikko says.
Carter guffaws. “Knackered?”
Veikko seems puzzled. “Is that not a common English colloquialism fortired?”
“Yeah, it’sEnglishEnglish,” Sebastian says. “They say it in Britain. It’s not an American thing.”
Veikko nods. “I see. Colloquialisms are difficult. I have been making an effort to study and use them. In fact, I came across one obscene colloquialism that I found very distasteful.”
Felix’s face lights up with amusement. “What’s that?”
“This expression,I wouldn’t fuck her with your dick. Used to speak about a woman that a man very much does not want to sleep with.”
Veikko’s deadpan delivery has everyone around us cracking up. As tired as I am, even my lips are curled.
“You would imagine a man would say this to one of his friends. Not only does it display a toxic masculinity and vulgarity that I don’t appreciate, but does this not betray a shameful disregard for their friend, implying that he would be more reckless with his friend’s dick than his own?” Veikko shakes his head in disapproval. “This is no way to treat a friend’s anatomy.”
“It’s like borrowing a friend’s car,” Sebastian says. “You need to be even more careful with it than you would your own.”
“Exactly,” Veikko pronounces.
“So you’re saying you’d take real good care of my cock if I gave it to you, Veikko?” Felix asks. There’s a gleam in his eye. I can’t quite put my finger on how, but there’s something different about it compared to his usual look.
Veikko seems caught off guard, his lips puckering in a way I’ve never seen before.
As amusing as this conversation is, I’m too tired to stick around and laugh at it. I drag myself to the shower and try not to doze as the hot steam wraps around me.
I try to remember Coach’s words. I’m the leader of this team. I agreed to that role and the responsibilities that come with it. I need to hold myself to the highest standard.
But if I get another chance to stay up all night talking with Carmen—I’m doing it again.
Two days later,the guys and I are at Pasqually’s, a local pizza place. We’ve all been good at sticking to our diets lately, so we decided that a little cheat meal wouldn’t hurt.
Not that there’s anything little about the grease-drenched and cheese-piled portions at Pasqually’s.
The guys and I are talking about our upcoming game against New Hampshire, when Dave, the owner of Pasqually’s, groans. “Aww, dammit.”
“What’s wrong, Dave?” Carter asks. Dave’s a huge Black Bears fan, having operated the restaurant here in town for over thirty years. Oftentimes after a meal, he’ll surprise us by insisting it’s on the house, though we try not to take advantage of it.
“My delivery driver left early, but I forgot to turn the online delivery ordering off,” he says. “My car’s in the shop, and the two cooks on shift right now take the bus in from out of town. I don’t wanna cancel on a good customer, though. I guess I could walk it over …”
“How far is it?” Sebastian asks.
Dave sighs. “Other side of town. Not that it’s a big town here or nothin’. But still, my knee’s been acting up, and the cold weather doesn’t do it any favors …”
“One of us could deliver it for you,” Felix says.
Dave leans against the order counter, thinking. “You sure you wouldn’t mind? If you did it, meals would be on the house tonight, of course.”
I wave my hand, dismissing the offer. “You’ve been doing that too often, Dave. We don’t want to feel like freeloaders.”
“Right,” Sebastian says. “We’ll do it out of the kindness of our hearts.”
Dave ponders. “If you’re sure.”
“We’re sure,” Veikko says. “We will play rock-paper-scissors for who has to go.”
Dave chuckles. “You’re all good boys. I don’t care what the owner of Pizza Paradise says.”
