Why choose? I'm always cute.
LADY DELILAH
Psssht. In an Ugly Dog Is Actually Kinda Cute way maybe.
My phone buzzes again as my parents leave heart emojis on the picture my grandmother put together. It’s a little odd to think she’s sending me this picture over her morning cuppa in Scotland since it’s two in the morning here in D.C.
Absent-mindedly my tongue runs over my gums.
"When’s your dentist appointment?" Cap or French Fry (Felix Fornier) asks with a sip of his beer.
"On Tuesday." Maybe I’m feeling off kilter from the PTSD of losing my retainer when I was ten and having to confess to my mom with my tail between my legs. And then following my dad down the block retracing my steps to the corner store I had gone to with my friends for ice cream treats and it was the last place I remember having my retainer.
I’m an adult now and my flippers, or partial dentures, will be easier to keep track of.
Don’t you think?
Why am I asking you, you’re not being super helpful.
What’s that?
You think I’ll be more responsible now than I was when I was ten?
Gee-whiz. Thanks.
"Want me to give you a ride?" Cap asks.
"Buy me a drink first Cap." I wink and deflect but yeah, I do.
Transitioning to the offseason is always a challenge for me. I hate going from seeing my boys every day to only once a week at best. And those pop-ins are me seeking them out. It’s not like we’re all together in the locker room or on the team plane. Thankfully our group chat keeps us all pretty connected and on the same page. When it’s quiet for too long I usually toss something in about chicken nuggets and things get fired up again.
Maybe the pending down-time is the reason my stomach feels hollow.
And since you don’t know what it is either, I say we push it down and smile through it.
Life’s too short to spend energy on negativity right?
Chapter one
Duncan
When it becomes...
"You'reoutofmilk."I tell Crosby as I pour cereal from his pantry into a bowl the following week. "Again."
He looks up at me from where he's reading something on his phone. "Sorry."
"Everything alright?" I nod my chin towards his phone as I crunch on the dry cereal like it's a handful of pretzels. I pick up my flipper this afternoon. My sensitive gums are not happy about this snack choice. But I’m not in the mood for fruit and the only other snack Crosby has on hand is Sour Patch Kids.
The idea of that sour powder on my open mouth wound makes my dick shrivel up.
"Yeah, just Dad shit." He mutters. And that’s all he needs to say. Where I have the most loving and supportive family, who border on beingtooloving and supportive, Crosby's got the king of all assholes as a parent.
"You sure you don't want to come to Scotland with me Crocs?” I swallow a mouthful as I glance at the pile of footwear in his hallway. A plethora of colorful rubber shoes that got him this nickname. "You could pretend you don't get international coverage or something."
"You know travel isn't my thing." He says. And I do. Especially since he got his pup Stella, he's locked it down even further.
I don't harp. Crosby Loughty, star defenseman, and best bud, doesn't need anything heavy from me.
