Page 46 of Drop the Gloves
Two days hadn’t helped Evan get his head on straight (har har), but with practice and then a game before traveling out west for a week, he didn’t have much choice: he had to show up at the rink and hope for the best.
A lot of the team participated in No-Shave November to raise awareness for men’s health, and Evan was no exception.He took his razor out of his travel bag and prepared to look about ten years older within the next few days.He might be one of the youngest on the team, but Evan had no trouble growing a beard.
He’d noticed a lot more stubble going into the end of October.Barczyk, for example, hadn’t looked like he’d shaved in a few days (though Evan hadn’t noticed until that stubble was rubbing against his bare skin…) and he knew Lawson liked to grow out a proper long beard so he’d gotten a head start.By the time they showed up to practice on November 1st, it was already apparent which of their teammates did have trouble.
“Dalty, your face is a crime against humanity,” Turner teased as Dalton came into the locker room.His beard was…well, patchy was a generous description.
Dalton went crimson.“Shut up,” he mumbled.“It just takes a couple of weeks to come in.”
“Fuck, seeing that almost makes me hope we don’t make the playoffs,” Moreau chirped.“Hate to see that eyesore all post-season.”
“You think he’s bad,” Antonov said with a conspiratorial grin.“You should see Barzy.”
Evan couldn’t help it; he perked up.Barczyk looked bad with a beard?That would be kinda great, actually.If he could see an unattractive version of Barczyk, it might solve some of his problems.
The truth was much worse.When Barczyk walked into the locker room moments later, he wasn’t sporting a pathetic or shaggy beard.He had a mustache.And not a normal mustache.It was curled up slightly at the ends, like some old-timey cartoon villain.It wasn’t much now, but if he kept this up the whole month, it would be ridiculous.
“Oh my God.”Lawson cackled.“You look like such a douchebag, Barzy!”
“You look like you’re about to rob a train,” Doyle agreed.
“You ain’t getting laid this month with a mug like that,” Kates said, almost like he was trying to warn Barczyk.
“Wrong, wrong,” he pointed to Lawson, then Doyle, and then Kates, “and double wrong.I look fantastic, and you know it.Everyone digs a man who can pull off a mustache.”
Evan was inclined to disagree—he’d never gotten the appeal and would rather never grow a beard again than have a moustache—but Barczyk did not look as awful as Evan had hoped.It was like his missing tooth or his mohawk or the gold chain: they were just so Barczyk that you knew what you were getting before he said anything.It would’ve grated on Evan’s nerves back in the summer; now he thought it was endearing.
He gulped.He really was in trouble, wasn’t he?
“Keep dreaming, Barzy,” Lawson drawled.Then he nudged Doyle and stage-whispered, “At least he looks better than Dalty.”
The secondhand embarrassment was getting to Evan.Poor Dalton, who didn’t have the confidence or swagger Barczyk did to pull off a bad beard (because while Barczyk looked ridiculous, the mustache suited him, and Evan was 95% sure it was because he’d convinced himself he looked good).Not that Evan knew what to say or do to make up for the teasing?—
“Don’t listen to them, Dalty,” Barczyk said.“You look awesome, and you’re hot enough you make it work.Not like this dipshit”—he jerked a thumb at Doyle—“who’s got a full beard and still can’t find a date.”
Doyle looked affronted as the whole locker room burst into laughter at his expense.His dating history corroborated Barczyk’s jab—he was one of those guys who was married to the game—so he couldn’t do more than weakly protest, “What the fuck?”
Dalton looked relieved to have the attention drawn away from his beard.Evan watched Barczyk carefully.At the start of the season, he would’ve assumed Barczyk had done it because he was such an attention hog.It came second nature to steal the spotlight away from others, whether they appreciated it or not; Dalton being relieved would’ve been a happy coincidence.
Except…except there had been a glint in Barczyk’s eyes.The same one that showed he was about to drop his gloves or get in someone’s face, that was how he’d looked defending Dalton.That warning that you were about to mess with the wrong person, and he’d make you pay for it.
Barczyk caught Evan staring, and before Evan could look away, he smiled and twirled the end of his moustache.“Whatcha think, Abs?Hot or not?”
Evan choked on air, his face burning all the way down to his neck.“Doyle’s right,” he said, his throat tight, but luckily his voice sounded normal.“You look like Boris from Rocky and Bullwinkle.”
“What is a Bullwinkle?”Vassiliev asked at the same time that Lawson and Doyle burst out laughing.
“He does!”Doyle said.“Spot on, Abs.”
Instead of being as flustered or off-kilter as Evan felt, Barczyk scoffed.“C’mon, Abs.I’m clearly more of a Natasha.”
That only made the locker room louder until some of the coaches poked their heads in.The ruckus died down after that, leaving them all pretending to mind their own business as they got dressed for practice.
A few minutes later, most of the team had filed out of the locker room to warm up.Evan was one of the stragglers—flexing his feet in his skates before lacing up—when a shadow stood in front of him.He knew exactly who it was from the messy tape job around the socks, and it wasn’t easy to ignore Barczyk watching him.
“You did me dirty with that one,” Barczyk said, voice low; goosebumps prickled along Evan’s arms.“I ain’t no Pottsylvania baddie.”
Evan looked up with an eyebrow raised.“Pottsylvania?”
