Page 7 of Misconduct Zone

Lars

Dylon stretches out next to me on the plane and flashes me a grin that shows his dimple. We are on our way to our first preseason game, and his excitement is contagious. I’m relieved he’s back to his upbeat self.

Ever since the first practice, he’s been subdued and unsocial, not his everyday gregarious extrovert self.

As superstitious hockey players, we sit in the same seats we always do, and the leather molds to my body like an old friend.

Benz and Griffin are across the aisle, bickering about headphones. Dylon leans over me to get their attention. “Boys, pack separate go-bags so you don’t fight like Gray and Ace. Soon you’ll be theItcouple.”

His aftershave smells incredible, and his body heat warms my chest. I playfully shove him back. “Leave the kids alone.”

“What’s a go-bag?” Mason asks.

Gray kicks his seat from behind. “Don’t tell me you played college hockey and don’t have a go-bag. Kids these days.”

“Hey, rookie.” Mason leans forward to get Jamal’s attention in the seat ahead of me. “Do you know what a go-bag is?”

Jamal King twists in his seat with his jaw clenched as if he’s sure the question is an insult.

Mason waits patiently, and Jamal finally answers. “Are you for real? I’m not a dumbass.”

“Someone tell me.” Griff tugs at his tie.

King glances at me, and I shrug as if to say “He’s the idiot.”

“It’s a bag packed with your travel essentials so you’re ready to go at a moment’s notice,” King says slowly, like he’s still not sure if it’s a joke.

Griffin flops back, rocking his seat. “You didn’t know, right?” he asks Benz.

“Didn’t your dad teach you anything?” Dylon asks, and I cringe.

Mason and his famous father don’t have a good relationship. His dad played for Montreal and holds the record for most shutouts as a goalie. He never won The Cup, but it’s unlikely his record will be broken.

Mason made it clear last season that the topic of his father is off-limits, but Dylon wasn’t allowed at practice or games during that time.

Mason’s mouth hangs open as his face gets red. Benz jumps in. “I should’ve explained it to him. I mean, he has a travel bag.”

“It is best to keep separate headphones and travel items in your bag that do not get unpacked. Then you will not forget things,” I offer. Mason nods and turns away from us. I am sure he wants to avoid the topic of his father.

Keeping my voice low, I lean in to speak directly into Dylon’s ear. “Mason’s father never visits, and I am not sure the last time Griff went back to Canada. We avoid bringing up his dad.”

“Nice of you to tell me.” He huffs and crosses his arms.

“Sorry,” I say truthfully. The story is not mine to tell, but I should have thought to warn Dylon.

His eyes sparkle with mischief. “I’m just kidding. Me and my big mouth need to think before we speak sometimes.”

“I can think of better things to do with your mouth,” I say and realize that sounds sexual, but as usual, Dylon does not notice, and I hold up my hard candy.

“Yummy.” He grabs a piece with a sly smile, then changes the subject. “What do you think of the lines this year?” Our heads are inches apart, so the team cannot hear us.

Ace paces the aisle and stops next to us. “You two look like you’re plotting world domination.”

“Oh, I’m all about domination,” Dylon quips.

Ace strokes his chin. “Stop trying to compete with us for best roommate duo. Next thing you know, you’ll be finishing each other’s sentences. Griff and Benz could give you a run for your money, but they’re too young to take the top.”

An inexcusable image of Dylon on top flashes in my mind, and I viciously swipe it out. None of this is remotely sexual, but my brain continually diverts to the base level.

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