“…practicing at Holy Heart’s rink…”
Because, mostly, I'm freaking out. In a good way. I think.
“…gotta wonder how the Pine Martens are taking that….”
Is this a date? I don't want to assume it's a date. I mean, itisus going somewhere other than the hockey rink together. Which feels like a big deal. Maybe it's not a date. Or not adatedate.
Does it matter, though? I get to go out and spend more time with Dash, right? That's good either way. I like Dash. I like spending time with Dash. And clearly he?—
No, okay, it matters. It does matter.
Suddenly, there's a warm hand on my shoulder. I turn to find Dash standing in the aisle with an amused look on his face. “Hey, we're here. We have to get off, or we're just going to turn around and end up back at the U.”
“Oh, right, yeah.”
I get to my feet and follow him, and we emerge from the bus onto Main Street. I haven't actually been to Northbridge before, unless you count driving through on my way to Green Mountain State. How do I explain it? It's like if you looked up “quaint college town” in the dictionary, there would be a picture of Northbridge.
Shops line the street, facing the town green. Every one of them is unique and a little quirky, with names like A Stitch inTime and Good Ol’ Toys. Not a chain store in the bunch. Most of the signs look hand-painted, and quite a few of the shops have merchandise out on tables or racks on the sidewalk, with customers browsing in the warm early September afternoon.
“Come on,” says Dash. “I’m starved. There's a sandwich place along here somewhere Gavin told me about.”
Multigrain on Main is a quirky, casual spot with worn wooden tables and chairs, local art for sale on the walls, and folk rock playing softly in the background. Dash and I order at the counter and go and grab a table.
When a cute, compact brown-skinned guy delivers our order, I recognize him as Ben Diaz, Holy Heart’s promising sophomore right defenseman. I wouldn’t have thought he’d want to split his time between hockey, school,anda job. Which probably means heneedsthe job. You have to admire that kind of commitment to, well, anything.
I must be looking at him funny because he squints at me and says, “Do I know you?”
Great.
“Oh, uh, no. Thanks for the food.” I stuff a chip in my mouth before I can make more of an idiot of myself.
Diaz leaves. Dash is staring at me. I sigh.
“He’s a Pine Marten. Second string defense.”
Dash raises an eyebrow. “You looked up their roster, too?”
“Yes—I—it’s notthatweird. I wanted to know what kind of stats we were up against.” I'm feeling slightly defensive, but when I look up... Dash is looking at me with more fondness than anything else, and I just kind of melt.
“Yeah, I was surprised the game was so close. I thought Holy Heart was, I don't know, kind of David to our Goliath, I guess?” He starts in on his sandwich.
“They are. Or they usually are. They look surprisingly good this year. That guy, Diaz, is actually kind of a standout. He'sonly a sophomore. Plus, the captain has some pretty impressive skills.”
“The one with the chiseled jaw who kept getting into it with Gavin?”
I laugh. “Luke Morgan, yeah. Oh, hey, let me show you this video.”
I pull up the 24NN Sports Extra video on my phone. Dash scooches his chair around and leans in so he can see. He’s so close I can feel the heat coming off him, but I try to stay focused. On the screen, shots of the game are interspersed with the report on predictions for this season.
“Oh yeah, that guy, I recognize him. He was at the scrimmage with a cameraperson.”
I nod. “Cameron Doherty. He's actually a Green Mountain alum. He was the star center, drafted by New York. But he got injured and went into sports reporting instead.”
“Cool. I mean not the injury part, obviously.”
I shoot a glance over at Dash. “He’s also gay. Came out right after he graduated.”
Dash gets quiet. “Is it… Do you think that’s as tricky as it seems in the books?”
