“I know you’ve taken a few hits to the head recently,” I retort, “but surely you know what reading is.”
He elbows my side. “Yeah, asshole, I’ve just never seen you read anything longer than a text message.”
Jake leans forward in his seat and grins like he knows a secret. “It’s because of Maya, isn’t it?”
I ignore them both and unzip my duffel. I’m not particularly excited about how my teammates will react to the washboard abs of the purple alien on the cover, but you know what they say. Never judge an alien book by its cover.
Sweat trickles down my back as adrenaline surges through me. Fans decked out in the Devils team colors roar from the stands, stomping their feet and waving at the camera in hopes of being on the Jumbotron. It may not be a home game, but I practically grew up in this arena, and the energy rolling across the rink is electric.
As the Devils take the ice, I skate to the center for face-off. Rolling back my shoulders, I tune out the noise of the stands and the pep talk Logan’s trying to give, focusing completely on the puck. The moment it’s dropped and the whistle blows, my world shifts. Nothing matters but the win.
After a deadlocked opening period, we spend the second period making up for it. The Devils are great, but we’ve been working our asses off in practice, and with a combined eleven shots across the period, Jake and I both end up on the score sheet. And despite the Devils refusing to roll over, we establish a towering lead through the remaining forty minutes of play.
The win is ours; I can almost taste it.
During the next line change, I swing my body over the wall and chug my water. I’ve played most of the game, and my lungs burn with the exertion. As a center, I’ve got more freedom to move across the ice than my linemates, but that also means I’m covering more ground.
“Solid defense out there,” I tell Jefferson as he joins me off the ice.
He mumbles his response through sips of water and gasps of air. Pairing him up with Erickson whipped him into shape better than Coach Henderson expected and, consequently, cemented his belief that he made the right call when he named me captain.
In the third period, we have a comfortable lead, but I won’t be confident in our win until the buzzer times out and the announcer declares it.
Cameron is ruthless in his defense of the net, preventing goals with applause-worthy accuracy.
Jake strips the puck from the opposition’s center and flies down the ice like a missile. I fall in beside him, running interference and blocking an overly aggressive left-winger. Their goalie is so focused on Jake that he doesn’t notice Logan setting up, and by the time he’s figured out our play, it’s already in motion. Logan smacks the puck with swift surety, and it whizzes into the net, hitting the back with a satisfying snap.
We may be in Devils territory, but our fans showed up, and they make themselves heard. I’m almost positive it’s my mom that starts the “Bobcats” chant when I score the winning goal in the last few seconds of the game.
After a quick round of post-game interviews, I head for a long, scalding shower in the visitors’ locker room. From there, the majority of us pile into cars and head to my childhood home for a late dinner. Every season, my parents insist on hosting the guys for a home-cooked meal. It’s a feat, considering eighteen well-muscled hockey players don’t just take up a lot of space but require a lot of food, but my mom has never been one to back down from a challenge, and she’s been feeding hockey players for decades, from peewee league to the pros.
I’m bombarded with congratulations and hugs the moment I walk through the front door. Despite my parents both being born and raised in San Diego, the house is decked out in Bobcats colors. It’s only accentuated by the gear my friends, family, and teammates wear.
As I make my way across the crowded family room, greeting my parents’ friends and someone’s cousin’s uncle’s ex-wife, my phone buzzes in my pocket.
Maya Silver
Don’t let it get to your head, but I watched the game (it was either that or Jeopardy reruns). Congrats on the win!
Hope your butt’s not too bruised after that hit.
I snort. My tailbone’s definitely feeling the aftermath of getting steamrolled by a player nearly double my size after Logan mouthed off about his haircut.
Cole Berrett
Thank you!
Glad to know you’re keeping an eye on my ass.
How’d it look in my shorts?
Maya Silver
Remember how I told you to not let it get to your head?
Cole Berrett
You miss me. Admit it.
