“Hell yeah.” He pinched my ass as we staggered off the ice. He slipped on our guards and held out his hand for me to walk with him. When we got back to the locker room, we pulled off our skates and I climbed onto his lap on the bench, straddling him and kissing him until my lips were swollen.
“You still want to hit that shower, Hawaii?” he asked, his erection pressing into my core.
I nodded. “Yes.”
He stood up and walked with me wrapped around him to the shower area, kissing me the whole way. And for just a few minutes, I let myself think about how amazing it would be to have more nights like this with him.
The Zamboni for Life
Is there anything moresatisfying than watching the ice that’s been scuffed up, scratched, and sprayed all over the rink suddenly be wiped clean by what basically looks like a giant squeegee machine? Maybe some of you would say the best part is the game itself, and sure, our guys look good out there. But that machine literally glides over the ice, scratches off the top surface and spreads a thin layer of water, making it look new again. It’s pretty darn cool.
At a time in our lives when we’re learning how to be adults and making a boatload of mistakes along the way, I can’t help but wish I had a Zamboni for life to follow me around and wash away all the stupid things I do. Said something awkward and embarrassing at a party? Don’t worry, the Zamboni’s here to erase it so you can start over. Got drunk and threw up on your crush’s shoes? Consider it a Zamboni moment.
I know, it’s weird, and you’re probably officially thinking that after more than a month of reporting on hockey, I’m losing it. Hockey has become a much bigger part of my life than I ever imagined. But I really think we’re on to something here. Let’s call it a new method for beinghuman. Instead of letting those Zamboni moments define us and occupy our brains for months, what if we just gave ourselves permission to erase them and focus on the learning they provided instead? And what if we erased them for each other? Does your roommate really need to be introduced as the girl who threw up all over the quarterback last year? Or can you do her a favor and knock that off? Call it a Zamboni moment and wash it away.
Let’s stop defining ourselves—and each other—by those moments. We’re so much more than the guy who stuttered through his first oral report or the girl who spilled coffee all over herself in Psych 101 (whoever that was, it definitely wasn’t me) or the jock who can’t be taken seriously for anything other than sex. We deserve to get away with scuffing up the surface as we figure ourselves out. And if not now, in college where we’reallscrewing up, then whencanwe allow ourselves that grace?
Yes, I’ve watched too much hockey already. I’ve watched that machine skate around the ice too much. But I’ve also had the opportunity to be on the ice myself. I’ve looked up into those stands we all sit in. And you know what I saw? A whole lot of seats that are usually filled with people who all deserve a little Zamboni in their lives once in a while. Be kind to each other, folks. College is hard enough without being defined by our mistakes.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Leo
The course assignments werecoming in hot with all the professors getting in big exams and papers before the Thanksgiving break. Between my hockey schedule and Sophia trying to write up every game, plus her other pieces for the paper, our time together was hard to pull off.
Taking Sophia to see Måneskin had been the highlight of my fall so far. I’d had fun singing along and watching the show but nothing compared to how it felt having her in my arms and watching her scream, laugh, and sing her heart out. Taking her ice-skating after had just been the icing on top of an already-perfect evening.
As much as that night at the Måneskin show had felt like a date, it was almost like we’d agreed to be in a wonderful little couple-bubble for the evening before returning to our casual arrangement. I told myself that if I wanted to have that again I should just ask her for more, but I wasn’t willing to risk what we already had. She was too practical to sayyes to dating. She knew what we were both doing at the end of the school year, and neither of us were going to change our minds. Even if there was a chance she’d be interested in something more than sex, I knew she’d still deny us the chance.
Knowing that didn’t change the way I felt about her. Which is why the second I got slammed into the boards and searing pain shot through my abdomen, the elbow of an opposing player wedged into my back, I looked up into the stands where she always sat. She was standing with her hand over her mouth, and somehow, despite the pain, I felt a rush of warmth at the concern on her face.
She’d watched enough hockey to know this was part of the game, but I’d never been hurt while she watched. A whistle signaled the inevitable penalty, since I’d basically been slammed by this guy for no reason. I skated over to the bench and Coach subbed me out.
“You okay, Harrison?” he asked as the team physician ran over.
“Yep.” I rubbed my side and took a deep breath, one that was already painful enough for me to know I’d bruised my ribs pretty good. Bruises and minor fractures to ribs over the years were one injury that I’d more than adjusted to as a regular occurrence in my life. They always healed.
The physician lifted my jersey and looked me over, pressing on my ribs while I pretended it hurt less than it did. She deemed me fine enough to keep playing, and the game finished without another incident. I skated through the pain, but I was going to have one hell of a bruise later.
As I left the locker room, rubbing my side, Coach yelled orders about icing and rest.
Yeah, no way am I resting this until the sexy brunette waiting outside the locker room for me goes home for the night.
Screwing after games had become a regular habit of ours and I wasn’t letting bruised ribs stop me from giving Sophia one hell of an experience.
I stepped out of the locker room and looked around the hall upon realizing Sophia wasn’t in her usual spot. I scanned the area, spotting my dad and Aunt Lavi chatting a few paces away. I started walking toward them and noticed Sophia on her phone further down the hall in the opposite direction of the exit. She gave me small wave and mouthed “my sister”as she pointed to her phone. I tipped my chin at her and held up one finger to let her know I’d be over in a minute. I wasn’t ready to explain our situation to my family, so it was helpful that she was currently occupied.
“Great game, Leo,” Dad said as soon as I stopped in front of him. He pulled me into a gentle hug. His six-foot-four frame made him one of the only people who didn’t make me feel huge when I hugged them. He looked down at my side. “How are the ribs?”
“Not too bad,” I said as I bent down to hug my aunt. “Breathing hurts, obviously, but not as bad as the time I fractured them.”
Aunt Lavi shook her head, her dark side-braid swinging on her shoulder. “You should still take it easy for a few days,” she said gently.
“Ice, ibuprofen, and prop yourself up to sleep,” Dad said.
“I know.” I smiled at them. It wasn’t my first rib-injury rodeo, but Dad was a paramedic and couldn’t help himself. “I’m glad you made it to this one.” They’d only come to a few games so far since my schedule often conflicted with the Bruins. Pretty soon they wouldn’t have to pretend to be torn up about the choice of which game to watch. They’d watched enough of my games over the years for me to encourage them to go to the Bruins games over mine. Hell, some nights I wished I was watching the Bruins instead of the games I was in.
I looked past them and saw Sophia tucking her phone in her jeans, watching me with a curious expression as if she wasn’t sure if she should say hi or not.
