Page 21 of Must Love Christmas

It wasn’t a bad idea. Simon could make some new friends at Shawlands Rink. Maybe he’d even meet a guy he fancied, which might lessen the lingering awkwardness between him and Garen—not that Garen relished the thought of Simon’s attention on some other lucky lad.

When dinner ended, Garen noticed his throat still felt raw from all the yelling during the day’s first two games. As the team’s third/vice-skip, Garen relayed messages between their skip, Luca, and their front-end curlers, Ross and David. When Luca threw his stones, Garen had to “call the line” to tell Ross and David when to sweep. At big tournaments like this, a curling rink could get head-splittingly loud, between the roar of granite stones against ice and the shouts of excited curlers and their fans.

The day’s final game began, with Team Riley matched against one of their main rivals, Team MacDougall, who famously played in kilts despite the rink’s chill. The two teams were currently tied atop the tournament table, both having won all four preceding games.

Half of the seats overlooking the ice were filled with Team Riley’s fans, most of them waving rainbow flags andTeam Smileysigns. One of Garen and Luca’s uni pals, Ben Reid, waved down at them from where he sat at the end of the row with his boyfriend, Evan.

Garen waved back, then held up his palms in a questioning manner. Ben picked up hisRiley Rockssign and brandished it above his head, his glasses reflecting the rink’s bright fluorescent light. The sign was looking a bit battered, but Garen had insisted Ben keep bringing it for good luck after they’d won their first Scottish Challenger Tour event two years ago.

Garen gave his friend a wide grin and a fist pump. To this day, Riley had yet to lose when Ben brought his sign.

At the beginning of the third end, Garen noticed he still hadn’t removed his lightweight thermal curling jacket. Usually the sweeping warmed him up fast, and by the second end, he’d be down to his short-sleeved black-and-midnight-blue Team Riley shirt.

He unzipped his jacket, then promptly zipped it again. Maybe the temperature was unusually low in the rink tonight. A quick scan of his fellow curlers suggested he was the only one feeling the chill.

Despite being out of sorts, Garen played well, as did the rest of the team, and by the eighth and final end, Riley were up 6-4 without the hammer. But Team MacDougall began with a pair of perfectly placed corner guards, the necessary setup for scoring two to tie the game.

Ross took out one of the corner guards on his next shot, and immediately MacDougall replaced it. So Garen took outthatone onhisnext shot. Immediately MacDougall replaced it. If they kept up this pattern, eventually MacDougall would score only one point and Riley would win. MacDougall needed a Riley miss.

Luca signaled for Garen to take out the second corner guard again. His voice now hoarse, Garen replied with an emphatic thumbs-up. Every muscle ached as he got into the hack and crouched down to throw the next red stone.

He shook his head to clear it, but that only made it feel floaty, like it wasn’t securely attached to his body.

“Just hang in there,” he murmured to himself. If he could last another ten minutes, he could retire to his hotel room for a restorative sleep. He’d feel better tomorrow, and they’d win this tournament to take the lead in the season-long Scottish Challenger Tour.

Garen shot out of the hack. As he glided forward at full speed, his balance wavered—not enough to topple him, but enough to throw off his momentum and aim. He tried to compensate by giving an extra push as he released the stone, but his fingers seemed to stick to the handle.

“Light out of hand!” Garen croaked as his stone drifted away at half the necessary speed.

Ross and David leapt into action, furiously sweeping the ice sheet in front of the stone to keep it going straight and quick.

Garen’s stone knocked out MacDougall’s yellow corner guard, then listlessly rolled a few inches toward the center, basically taking the place of the stone it had just removed.

“Sorry, lads,” Garen told his front end. “That was some heroic sweeping.”

“Nae bother,” David wheezed, his face now even redder than his bushy hair and beard.

Ross panted, his breath steaming in the cold air. “We’ll sort it with…Luca’s stones. Not…end of the world.”

Garen joined Luca just in time to see the Team MacDougall vice-skip land a stone in the house behind Garen’s generously placed corner guard.

“Double takeout,” Luca said. “Yours and his.” He glided down to the hack, where David and Ross were waiting to sweep. With supreme calm, Luca went through his pre-throw routine, then slid out and released the stone.

As Garen bent to examine Luca’s aim, a wave of heat swept over his body. He needed out of this jacket, pronto.

“Weight’s good!” Ross called. “How’s the line?”

Garen tried to gauge the trajectory and consider the ice conditions at the same time, but his brain felt on fire. He blinked hard to clear his blurry vision.

Ah hell.Luca’s stone was too far inside. “Line’s narrow. Sweep! Hard, lads! Haaaaaar—” Garen’s voice gave out.

Luca took over the call, gliding up behind David and Ross. “Hard, lads! Sweep! Yes! All the way!”

Luca’s stone swiped Garen’s red stone on the edge, removing it, but then missed Team MacDougall’s yellow one.

Garen squeezed his own head, which felt like it could burst. “I’m so sorry,” he told Luca as they moved behind the house. “I ruined that shot.”

“It wasn’t my best,” Luca said.

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