Then I closed my eyes and saw his smile anyway.
16/
nico
By Wednesday,I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t waiting for his name to show up on my screen. He hadn’t responded to my message on Sunday or Monday, and I tried to play it cool. When he finally texted me after his game on Monday night with “Miss you too,” I was so relieved it took a moment to catch my breath. At first, I held back, but then I lost my mind and went into full shameless mode.
NICO: You looked really cute when you were pissed off.
PACKY: You always flirt by text?
NICO: Only when someone’s worth it.
PACKY: I’ll take that as a compliment. Gotta go. See you in five days.
Jesus. I’d taken a risk, considering we were barely off enemy status, but he was the one who brought up flirting. And at the end, he’d said, “See you in five days.”
Five days.
Not “See you later.” And not “Talk soon.”
I put my face in my hands and groaned. I was pathetic, obsessing over a few words like I was back in eighth grade, passing notes to a girlfriend sitting across the room.
We traded more texts over the next few days, things like “Nice goal tonight,” “Busy day,” and “Can you believe Boston blew that lead?”
Before long, my pulse jumped with every buzz of the phone. Half the time, it was Noah sending memes, or the Condors group chat with its usual gossip and banter. About once a day, though, it was Pack. On Thursday, I messaged him before morning skate.
NICO: Don’t forget to bring your lucky tape to Quebec. You’ll need it in our one-on-one demo.
It wasn’t even a minute before my screen lit up with a reply.
PACKY: Still got it wrapped around my stick from last week.
I read it again. “Still got it wrapped around my stick.”
Shit. Which stick does he mean? And is he talking about tape, or his hand?
My heart pounded like I’d been skating suicides. Maybe I was reading into it because I missed him, but the words brought back images of Pack’s rough voice when we were in bed. He’d been as turned on as I was. If my alarm had waited thirty more seconds to beep, I’d have had his sweatpants off and his cock in my mouth.
Why the fuck didn’t I take a later plane and face the consequences for missing a game?
The thoughts stayed with me all day. At practice, I missed two passes in a row because all I could think about was how Pack had looked when I was on top of him. That goddamn text hadturned my mind upside down. “Still got it wrapped around my stick from last week.” Shit.
That night, I stood by the window in my bedroom, scrolling through our message thread. There was nothing new, only short exchanges that shouldn’t have mattered so much. I typed “See you soon,” deleted it, and then did both again.Fuck me.I set the phone on my nightstand and got ready for bed.
My chest was tight as we taxied to the terminal in Quebec City. In a few minutes, I’d see Pack again, and I had no idea what to expect. Would he be happy to see me? Still feel like he had when I left him that morning?
I pulled out my phone.
NICO: Hey Pack! I’m here. You on the ground yet?
Then I thumbed a message to Marissa.
NICO: Landed in QC. Is Paquette here? Where’s the car?
Her reply came quickly.
OUR TORMENTOR: Curbside outside international arrivals. Your partner’s plane is taxiing now. I told him to meet you at the car.
