“Are you trying to discourage me?” Gabby asked, sliding the door open. “Because I’m in this now. I’m committed.”
Ryan grinned at that, he couldn’t help it. “Okay,” he said. “See you tomorrow, then.”
“Okay,” Gabby said, and it sounded like she was challenging him to something. “See you tomorrow.”
GABBY
The game was at a Catholic school called Saint Augustine’s that had a giant crucifix in the lobby and a massive addition at the back that held the hockey rink. A famous Boston Bruin had gone here, Luann explained as they bought their tickets, though the Saint Augustine’s team actually wasn’t very good. “Not as good as our guys, anyway,” Luann said, tucking her hands inside the kangaroo pocket of herPROUD CAVS MOMhoodie. “I might be a little biased.”
It was strange, being alone with Ryan’s mom for such an extended period of time. Gabby had worried all morning about it being awkward, but it turned out Luann mostly just wanted someone to listen while she talked. On the ride up she’d put on an ancient mix CD of ’90s lady-rock, so different from the NPR that Gabby’s own mom usually insisted on; she told Gabby all about moving to New York from Ottawa when she was a teenager, that she was one of six siblings and her parents had slept on a pull-out couch in the living room of their apartment in Buffalo until all of them finally moved out. She was funny and charming and scattered, the kind ofperson who dominated a conversation, but not in a bad way. Gabby guessed that was where Ryan got it.
“Does Ryan have a girlfriend?” Luann asked now as they settled themselves on the metal bleachers; she dug a half-empty bag of M&M’s out of her purse and offered Gabby some. “He’d kill me if he knew I was asking you this, but I’m asking you anyway.”
Gabby hesitated. In fact, Ryan had about one thousand girlfriends, none of whom ever seemed to keep his interest for any significant length of time, but Gabby couldn’t imagine that was the kind of information he’d want her to pass along to his mom. “Nobody important,” she promised.
“Well, except you,” his mom said.
“Oh.” Gabby felt herself blanch. Sure, she’d had a little bit of a crush on Ryan right when they first started hanging out, but that was totally over now. The last thing she wanted was for his mom to be getting ideas. “I mean—we’re not—”
“No, no, of course, I know that,” Luann said, waving her hand. “That’s what’s special about it, right?”
Gabby hesitated. In reality she had no idea what made her friendship with Ryan special—to him, at least. She kept waiting for him to stop showing up every Friday, for the universe to course-correct, for him to find somebody he liked better than her or to wake up one day and realize that Monopoly with the class head case was nobody’s favorite way to spend a Friday night. “Right,” she agreed, gnawing on her thumbnail while they waited for the game to start.
Predictably, Gabby found hockey both boring and violent. She clicked through her phone for most of the first period, pausing on occasion to cheer halfheartedly and once, when Ryan got a goal from what looked to Gabby like halfway across the rink, to cheer for real. It was kind of fun to watch him out there, that much was undeniable. He was fast, and oddly graceful. She thought he might actually be reallygood.
Still, it was mostly a total snooze-fest, and she was just about to offer to go out and get some popcorn when a tall, rangy guy in jeans and a canvas jacket edged his way into their row of bleachers. “There you are,” he said to Ryan’s mom, nudging his way past the pair of Saint Augustine’s parents sitting at the end. “The hell is wrong with parking at this place, huh? I was driving around in circles for twenty minutes.”
“That’s because you got here late,” Luann said pleasantly. “Come sit. This is Ryan’s friend Gabby. Gabby, this is Ryan’s dad.”
Gabby held her hand out; Ryan’s dad shook it, looking faintly surprised. Underneath his Rangers hat he had that slightly melty-faced quality that middle-aged guys get sometimes when they used to be handsome but then were hard on themselves for twenty or thirty years. His eyes were the same exact amber color as Ryan’s. “Good to meet you, Gabby,” he said, smiling at her. “Thanks for coming out to cheer on our guy here.”
“Yeah,” Gabby said, blushing a little bit without beingsure entirely why. “Of course.”
Still, it didn’t take long to become clear that Mr. McCullough was emphatically a Sports Dad: clapping loudly and enthusiastically as long as Colson had control of the puck, hooting with derision at the ref whenever he made a call in favor of the other team. Twice, the Saint Augustine’s couple shot him dirty looks. Gabby had never played a sport in her life other than peewee bowling, but she could not, under any circumstances, imagine her parents caring if she got any strikes or not. Ryan’s dad seemed to care about this hockey game alot. “His hustle is fucking miserable,” he said to Ryan’s mom at one point, as Ryan skated backward and, Gabby thought, pretty freaking quickly down the rink. “Does his coach talk to him about that? Somebody should be talking to him about that.”
Gabby felt the back of her neck prickle. Not that she was any kind of hockey expert, but Ryan’s hustle looked fine to her. “He got a goal,” she heard herself say. “Before you got here.”
Mr. McCullough raised his eyebrows, like he was just now noticing her. “Are you his girlfriend?” he asked.
Gabby shook her head, irritation barely edging out embarrassment. “We’re just friends,” she said, though Luann had literally just told him that.
“Oh! Right,” Ryan’s dad said. “Sorry.” He nodded at Luann. “My family will be the first to tell you, I’m not always such a great listener.” He grinned again then,self-deprecating. He had Ryan’s smile, wide and easy and a little bit sheepish; just for a moment, Gabby could understand why Ryan wanted his approval so badly.
Colson lost in the end, the other team scoring on their goalie at the last second and a loud buzzer echoing across the rink. Mr. McCullough swore loudly enough that Gabby flinched. Luann put a hand on her back as they edged out of the rink, the crowd suddenly making Gabby a little nervous; they waited for Ryan outside in the Saint Augustine’s lobby, Gabby crossing her arms against the stinging autumn wind every time the front doors opened.
“There he is,” Mr. McCullough said when Ryan finally turned up, putting an arm around his shoulders and squeezing. “What happened to you out there, huh? Your ass was dragging all over the ice.”
He made a freaking goal!Gabby wanted to say again, but thought better of it. Ryan only shrugged.
“Ah, it’s fine,” Mr. McCullough said. “I’m gonna take you to dinner anyway.” He looked at Luann. “You go ahead. I’ll drive him back down tonight, all right?”
“Are you sure?” Luann asked, looking skeptical.
“Jesus, Luann, can I have some time with my son?” Mr. McCullough snapped. “Is that okay with you?”
“You know what, Mike, sure.” Luann held her hands up. “Do what you want.”
“I’ll ride back with you,” Gabby offered, but Ryan shook his head.
