Page 102 of Drop the Gloves
Riley stared at him as if he’d spoken in Swedish.“You talking to me?”
“No, I’m talking to fucking Farrsy in net,” Evan snapped, some of his frustration leaking through.He took a deep breath, reeled it in, and said, “Yes, I’m talking to you.Next offensive zone face-off, be a little toward the top of the circle, and I’ll win it to you.”
Riley just stared at him, chewing his mouthguard.As much as Evan wanted to turn away, he didn’t; he stared right back.Riley looked away first.
They didn’t get a chance for Evan to make good on his promise until their last shift of the first period.They finally got their offensive zone draw to the right of the goalie, perfect for Riley as the right wing to take a shot right after the face-off.Assuming Evan could win it.He checked over his shoulder to make sure his teammates were in position, then squared up at the dot.As he looked the other center in the eye, he saw something.It was another third-liner, just like him, but younger.He looked so determined, so into it, like everything hinged on this one stupid face-off.
Evan had lived that way for years until he got his contract.So intent on making every play count.
...so easy to throw off.
“Don’t fuck up,” Evan said as the ref dropped the puck.The other center blinked, and Evan won the face-off.
Right to Riley, waiting exactly where Evan had told him to.Evan pushed the other center to clear more of the path to the net.Riley shot, the puck whizzing past Evan before it hit the goalie.The goalie, not expecting a shot so soon, fumbled it and dropped it right into the net.
Evan threw his arms up, pushing away from the poor rookie to throw himself at Riley, who looked stunned that he’d actually scored.He didn’t have time to brace himself as he was crushed between both Evan and Vassiliev, then Riley whooped loudly.
“Fuck yeah!”he screamed and head-butted Evan, a feat only possible because Evan was hugging him so hard he’d pulled Riley into the air.“Let’s get another one!”
“You greedy bastard,” Vassiliev said, tapping both of them on the heads.“But I agree.Two more at least!”
And suddenly, it was back.That spark that had driven them on the ice for months was rekindled.All Evan had wanted was a tiny bit of what they’d had before, a reminder to Riley of how good things could be if they were on the same page.What he got was an inferno.They went on a rampage in the second period, driving play and spending their entire shifts in the offensive zone.They did so well that Coach Jack gave them extra minutes.Every time they were on the ice, it felt like they were about to score.
At the start of the third, they did.
It was the dumbest way they could’ve scored.After all they’d done this game, it was another stupid bounce that went in.Riley was in front of the crease, being a menace as usual, while Vassiliev and Evan passed back and forth, trying to open something up.Frustrated and tired, Evan took a shot.A weak shot, one he barely got any of his stick on.He’d be embarrassed by that shot most days, except when it got to the crease, it deflected off of Riley’s skate into the back of the net.
It was such an ugly, stupid goal.
The goal horn went off, and the arena erupted.Evan threw open his arms and cheered, expecting nothing more than to enjoy the view of Riley celebrating.Instead he got an armful of Riley, who squeezed him so tight Evan couldn’t breathe.When he let go enough for Evan to draw in some air, he lost it immediately: Riley pulled him down and kissed him hard on the cheek.
“Let’s fucking go!”Riley screamed and head-butted him again, as though their heads knocking together could somehow undo havingkissedhim.In the middle of a fucking game!All Evan wanted to do was reach out and kiss him back.He couldn’t, but his heart thundered with the possibility that maybe he’d be able to again soon.
He was hyper-aware of Riley the rest of the night, something he didn’t know was possible.He thought he wasalwaysthat aware of where Riley was, what he was doing or saying.Riley had wormed his way into Evan’s brain months ago, but it turned out there were spaces he hadn’t quite gotten to yet.
Although the Riveters tried their best, they couldn’t get Riley the hat trick on the night.When the other team pulled their goalie in the last few minutes of the third period, Coach Jack sent Riley out and everyone, even Farrell, gave him the puck every chance they got.If it’d been Evan out there, desperate for his first career hat trick, he’d be flinging the puck down the ice every chance he got.Riley, either not selfish enough or more level-headed than he was given credit for, made the smart play every time: whether it was a pass or a clear, he only tried for the empty net twice, one time hitting the post and the other time icing it.
No one was surprised when he got the first star of the night, and Evan watched in the locker room with everyone else as he was interviewed on the ice.
“What a great performance tonight!”the reporter gushed.“Those were two great goals tonight.”
“Thanks,” Riley said.He was breathing a little heavily, and his face was red, but he glowed with happiness.It looked like the Riley he’d seen in a dozen hotel beds.
“Were you worried when they reviewed your second goal to see if it was a kick?”
“I mean, I didn’t kick it, so no.I've got plenty to say to the refs most games, but they’re usually right when they have time to review footage.”
“Usually?”
Riley shrugged.“No one’s perfect.Not even me.”He winked, and the reporter laughed.“But in all seriousness, I owe both those goals to Abs.He made the play both times, and I just got to cash in.Probably why I never got that third one, since he wasn’t on the ice with me anymore.”
“Is that why you, uh, showed your appreciation to him after that second goal?”
“You mean when I laid a big wet one on him?Yeah, I've gotta be careful.No one’s gonna pass to me anymore if I keep doing that, right?”
The locker room lost it at that, and Evan couldn’t hear the rest of the interview as his teammates threw tape balls at him and made kissy faces.When it died down, Vassiliev put a hand on Evan’s shoulder and said very solemnly, “I won’t kiss you unless it’s the Cup-winning goal.”
“Thanks, Vassy,” he said, matching his tone.“I appreciate that.”
