“Fuck you.”
He burst into laughter. “Okay, okay, second best next to cute goalie with cool eyeball party trick.”
No one in my life had ever called my eyes a party trick, and while I thought maybe I should have been offended, it was impossible to be annoyed with Vanya. He was sunny and bright and hilarious, and god help me, but I liked him.
He was someone I would have been friends with. Could have been friends with. And he helped me stop thinking about Alexio for five minutes.
“Okay, so how you know which players which?” Vanya asked, shuffling back and forth. I could hear his pads scraping on the ice.
“I don’t,” I told him. “The other players have some usable vision, so they use cues they can see, and they’ll call out names when they’re making passes. We also developed code words for plays so the other team won’t understand them.”
“Like baseball,” he said happily.
I laughed. “Yeah, like baseball. Anyway, what you want to do is stay low, keep your head tilted to the side so you can hear the puck, then follow the sound. Someone come take a shot on Vanny!” I called out.
“Heard!” That was Matty. His blades scraped across the ice, and then came the rattle of the puck.
“Okay. That’s Matty. He’s got a really strong wrist shot, and he always goes for the top right, so get your glove ready. Our puck is bigger and heavier, so it doesn’t hit as high up as a standard size.”
“Okay. Am ready. Will stop this goal!”
He didn’t stop the puck. It sailed past him, and I heard it hit the net, then the ice. He let out a long string of curses in Russian as he slid it back toward Matty. “Yes. Very good slapshot. But I’m better goalie. Try again!”
“Um…you sure?” Matty asked quietly.
“Yes, little winger. Am ready.”
I heard Matt laugh a bit, then clear his throat before lining up the shot. I could tell what he was doing.
“Backhand,” I murmured. “It’ll hit left.”
“Is cheating?” Vanya whispered back.
“Nah. Not in this game.”
“Yes, I like you. New goalie best friend.”
The sincerity of his words was like a punch to the sternum, and I missed the shot. But Vanya saved it, and suddenly, he tackled me over onto the ice with his celly.
“Oh my god, you fucking giant!”
He laughed and knocked his bucket into mine. “We make good team. Best team! You can be honorary Russian and come play for Glaciers sometime.”
That was not going to happen, but I was smiling anyway.
At least, Iwassmiling until a familiar voice called out, “I want a shot against Adams.”
Alexio.
My spine stiffened, and everything in me went cold. I sat up and squared my shoulders as I felt around for my stick. One of the other guys—or maybe one of the media dudes I’d all but forgotten about—kicked it toward me, and it hit my glove.
“You sure about that?”
I heard him skate forward—heard the way he was using his stick to guide himself. He seemed…unsteady. “Three shots on goal. If I make them all?—”
I burst into laughter. “Bud, if you makeone, I’ll call it a win.”
The tension between us was damn near tangible. “Fuck you.”
