Page 57 of Lucky Sucker

“You’re nervous about letting me in.” That seemed like the fact. “Well, don’t be nervous about that. You are this beacon of light and I’m basically using as much of that light as you will give me so that I can be a better player.”

He giggled. “No you’re not.”

“I am. I think about you, a lot.” It was the first time exploring a relationship, and the first time experiencing most of these emotions. It was nice, I wasn’t going to lie about that, it was very nice, but it was scary too. “I read something last night that might help, actually.”

“Was it mine?” he asked in a panic.

“You haven’t let me, except your stuff for the paper. But no, this was about some littles, they make these worry dolls, and some of them make them in clay, others in yarn, like you, and then they destroy them with all their worries in. Kinda something similar we do on the ice, we get these face masks done and place them on those large mannequin guards and we take shots at them, usually with them protecting the goal.”

“Ok. How do I do it?” he asked.

“First, you make something, and then you can tell it your worries, or fears, and once you’re sure it’s not going to spill your secrets, you can burn it, rip it up, or bury it. I think that’s what the website said.” It was something I’d thought of mentioning to him but for a different reason. I wanted to make something that was covered in his loving in whispers, and my whispers back for him. That way we could have always each other on each other.

“I’ll do that and see how I feel,” he said. “I just wish I could come over and cuddle.”

“Or I’ll come over there,” I said.

“No, no, you can’t. You’ve got to be up early to train. I know it’s not possible. And I’mnota distraction,” he said. “So, I’ll just pretend you’re with me.”

I gave him a kiss down the phone, hoping he received it quickly.

This was the first time I was doing the boyfriend thing for real. I know in the past people had called me their boyfriend because they wanted tickets to games, or just for social clout, but this was the first time I was reciprocating it back.

“Also, the octopus just told me to tell you to sleep tight.” The octopus had been laid on one of my spare pillows, undisturbed it just watched me almost. “I’m gonna go, but I’ll see you tomorrow, and I would like one big hug. Like, I want to lift you off the ground type of hug.”

Wren giggled down the line. “That’s a promise.”

“Promise. Love you. Good night.”

“Love you,” his soft, sing-song voice replied.

* * *

Nobody could’ve prepared me for the feeling of love I had for another person. It wasn’t a love like I had for family, this was actual admiration, and the idea that this was happening at such a young age in my life almost caused my heartache from feeling like there was an inevitably that it wouldn’t work out.

It was away day. We took the team bus over to New Hampshire. It could fit around forty people on it, which accounted for the entire team, some members of staff, and of course, my sweet Wren.

We’d had a pep talk before boarding, all cheering to the team work we were about to put into the game, and a little smack talk about how they were about to fall flat on their faces. I tried to keep them away from being too aggressive, which was not possible, but coach was adamant on having a clean season, even though part of the entertainment people came for was the brawls.

Wren sat at the window and I sat beside him, unable to keep my eyes off him.

The bus was quiet, everyone was locked in on their goals, and the freshmen were praying they’d get a chance to play. I know that’s what they were doing because it was the exact position I’d been in as a freshmen as well.

“I think I might run out of yarn,” Wren whispered in the quiet as the only sound was the low thrum of the bus engine. He’d been crocheting up a storm, and most of it was done without even watching what his fingers were doing.

“What are you making?”

“A scarf,” he said. “It’s an easy one. I’m thinking of adding our initials into it as well. But don’t look, it might be your birthday present.”

I playfully screwed my eyes shut. “My birthday isn’t until November, we’ve got a little while yet.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s November 30th, you’re a Sagittarius.”

“Oh, am I?”

“Yep. And when’s mine?”

This should’ve been easy for me, we were talking about it. He’s born in the summer. “May,” I began, seeing his head nod. “Twenty—”