His expression morphs from shock to excitement. “Love it. We love having you at Pride Night. Not many hockey guys come to stuff like this.”
“I’m happy to be here.”
“Inline or skates?” He takes Archangel’s size, recognizing him as well, then ducks further into the tent to get the skates.
“Inline. I’m not learning something new!” I laugh, and Archangel agrees.
“If I let you kill yourself, Coach Hawke and my family will never forgive me.”
The guy comes back with skates in my size, and I’m impressed. “We got you.”
“Those don’t look like the rest of the skates,” Archangel says.
I elbow him. “Thank you.”
The guy laughs. “Can’t let our goalie have pinched toes.”
Archangel rolls his eyes so hard. “He went and took those from someone.”
“Or borrowed!”
“Let’s hope he borrowed.” We take the skates over to the bench and switch them out for our shoes.
“What does a Pride Night involve?” I shove my shoes in the cubby under me but don’t get up right away. Getting up from a low bench as a person my size is difficult without attaching wheels to my feet.
“Wait, can you even skate?” Archangel looks at me like it’s the first fucking time he’s seeing me.
“What? I’m on that ice with you every day.”
“You do stay in the goalie box. I’m not sure I have any proof of your ability to skate…” He fights a smile but his dimples are out and I want to kiss them.
I hold up my middle finger. “I cannot believe how little faith you have in me.”
He offers a hand, and I take it, because I really don’t want to be the guy who twisted his ankle a month before the playoffs. He lets go of my hand, but eyes me suspiciously.
I cross my arms. “I’m fine. See? Now are you going to tell me what to expect at Pride Night?”
“It’s like any other night, just gayer.” He laughs, and I can’t tell if it’s because he’s holding back or telling me the truth. “Let yourself experience it.”
It’s just getting dark when we go out on the rink. They have a DJ playing, with a more famous one starting later. All types of people filter in, a lot of them in rainbows, and all of them are happy and laughing. Lots of couples and affection. The opposite of how anyone in hockey is. Even on our team.
This is what Archangel’s denying himself. Or maybe he has it in other ways in his life, but not to this extent. He spends a lot of his time with me. Is this what he has to give up for our friendship? And maybe that’s why he doesn’t want to be with me, because how could we have both? While I could see professional hockey tolerating some gayness, this would be too far.
“Wolfe.”
I look up. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”
“Are you ready?” I nod, and we skate out onto the rink as neon lights come on, painting us in rainbow colors while Queen blasts over the speakers.
We get into it, dancing and singing along with the rest of the crowd. It’s the most fun I’ve had in a long, long time. We get drinks from the bar, and drunk skating opens another entire world of joy. I don’t think we’ve ever laughed so much.
The music slows, and Angel turns, skating backward as I recognize Second Star.
I get closer, offering my hand like so many of the other couples are doing.
THIRTY-ONE
ARCHANGEL
