Page 85 of Best Man on Campus

“The New York Islanders choose as their first pick in the NHL draft, Ben Weaver from St. Paul University.”

I shoot up from my seat, grabbing, Jazzy and taking her with me. Everyone in the room is Jumping up and down, letting out hoots and whistles, high fiving, hugging and kissing. I lift Jazzy from the floor and swing her around. She yells and giggles like a little girl, like I’ve never heard her do before and it cracks my heart in the middle of my ecstasy, bringing me back to reality, yet with a lighter heart.

“Oh my God! Ben? Why were you ever concerned that you wouldn’t get drafted?” Jazzy says. “You were fucking drafted in the first round. Even I know that’s where the fucking superstars go. Were you a superstar all this time hockey boy and you never let on?”

“You bet he was,” Kace says. “Everyone knew it.”

“Don’t exaggerate,” I say to Kace.

“You told me once you weren’t sure you’d even be drafted, I swear.”

“I don’t know. It must have been a low moment.” Because we weren’t us.

“You’re not insinuating I’m the more stable of us?”

“No. I’m only saying that even the best of us have our moments of weakness.”

“And there it is,” Stone says, “The best man on campus finally accepts his place.”

Everyone laughs but me. In fact, I scowl, but it’s more out of embarrassment than annoyance, if there’s any difference. Jazzy’ll never let me live this down. My frown transforms into a smile at that idea.

My phone rings then and it’s the President of the fucking New York Islanders on the phone. My grin is wide as I nod at mom and Stone gives me a silent high five. Jazzy watches me as I listen and say yes sir about fifteen times before he lets me go.

“Shit. It’s official,” I say.

Dad nods. Mom smiles. Jazzy takes my face in her hands and plants her mouth on mine.

Blood rushes from my head to my cock, making me dizzy. If I could suspend time and the universe and freeze it in this moment, I tell myself I would, but I realize with a new rush it’s not true. My hands shaky, I wrap them around Jazzy and hold on, looking forward to tomorrow, wanting the future to come and bring with it all the surprises, love and grief that it has waiting.

Life’s not an all or nothing game. It’s a game of ups and downs that never ends, of wins and losses and having and missing. Life is all about compromise and I always knew it. Or should have, but I couldn’t figure out how to put it into practice, how to make choices and still hold onto everything important. There’s so little about life that’s a clear win, but Jazzy is one of those wins.

She’s so strong and so full of energy and good and everything I want.

“Let her go and have some champagne,” Dad says.

“He’s right you perv,” Jazzy says, pushing away from me, a glint made more of mischief than blood lust in her eye. There’s a difference and it makes my heart pound to know she’s lighter, that some of that rage is gone, but I don’t kid myself into thinking it’s banished forever. Some of it may be in her DNA. But that’s a chance I’m willing to take because I know the worst and I love her not in spite of it, but because of it and her fortitude to work past it.

Dad pours champagne and mom hands us each a crystal flute. She tells Jazzy to make a toast.

She drinks her toast and makes a face. We all laugh and drink and talk about where I should live. I try and include Jazzy in the decision, asking her if she likes downtown or the suburbs but she only shrugs.

Majik says, “Jazzy still has another year of college, sport.” I nod, not caring because I know she’ll be with me even if it’s only part time. After mom brings out some hot appetizers and we settle down, Jazzy excuses herself to the bathroom. After a few beats, I leave without excuse and track her down.

I corner her in the hallway near the bathroom because he wants to get her alone.

“We’re a couple, Jaz. I know you want to finish school, but—”

“School? Fuck school.”

I laugh. “Will you come to New York with me?”

“Were you thinking you could get rid of me?” She scowls, playing at being edgy, but her eyes are soft with something else. I heave in a deep breath, taking a chance.

“I never want to get rid of you, Jaz. I’m too in love with you for that—”

“Did you just fucking say the L.O.V.E. word to me, hockey boy?”

“I did. I’m in love with you. I adore you—everything about you—good, bad and otherwise.”