Page 74 of Tough Guy and the Show Off

I chuckle. “Weird, right?”

“Very. What’s your goalie like in person?”

“French.”

“So, weird?”

“All goalies are weird. He’s just normal weird. Obsessive about his routines, has a special song he listens to pre-game—something in French—and when things get intense on the ice, he curses in French. He calls me Bozy, but he puts the emphasis on the Y.”

“That’s cute.”

“It is.”

He falls silent again for a few seconds before he says, “I’m glad they’re good to you.”

“Thanks. I am too, but it doesn’t change the fact that I miss you.”

“Fuck, I miss you too.”

“But tonight, we’re gonna leave it all out on the ice. We’re gonna show the fans who the fuck we are. Don’t you forget, Show.”

He smiles, nodding. “I won’t.”

“Let’s shower.”

We climb out of bed and manage to stay relatively chill during the shower, washing each other but not letting it go further than that.

When we’re out and dressed again, I stand near the door, my hands in my coat pockets. I want to kiss him, fall back into bed with him. We won’t play each other again for months after this. Can we make it that long?

Before I can leave, he grabs the lapel of my coat and slams our mouths together. I melt into him, thankful for the few extra moments of togetherness. My heart beats a little faster as our tongues tangle, but then the melancholy seeps in as we part.

“Give ’em hell out there, Show.”

“You too, Bozy.”

I open the door and step into the hallway, licking my lips for a lingering taste of Trav, then wave at him and make my way to the lobby. As soon as I exit the elevator, I run into Reggie Albert and Oscar Harlson.

“Bozy,” Albert, my line replacement, says, greeting me.

“Hi,” I say. “Hey, Harlson.”

“Hey, Bozy. You look good.”

“Thanks. Been working out a lot.”

“Did you see Trav?” Harlson asks.

“I did, yeah.”

“Now remember, we’re on different teams,” Albert says playfully.

“Oh, I remember. I promise you’ll feel it tonight when your face is on our boards.”

“Ooh, Bozy’s got chirps.” Albert grins.

“I’m excited,” Harlson says. “You better put up as good a fight as I know you can.”

His unspoken words hover between us. He means I better not let Trav off easy. It won’t look good for either team if I do.