Page 48 of Drop the Gloves
Evan jumped, startled to see Dalton.He’d been so focused on Barczyk and Vassiliev, he hadn’t noticed anyone walk over.
“All yours,” he said with a forced smile.Which it shouldn’t be!Dalton had been his friend long before Evan had spoken a single word to Barczyk.He liked spending time with Dalton on flights, because Dalton was great at reading Evan’s moods and knowing when he wanted to veg out on his phone or when he needed a distraction.
Oh.Evan needed a distraction right now.That tracked.
Dalton plopped next to him and groaned as he settled into his seat.“Thanks, bro.Y’know Jennie?From the bar?”
Evan didn’t, but he nodded.“Of course.Jennie from the bar.”
“I took your advice that night and asked her out.We’ve gone out a few times.It’s going awesome.”
“Congrats,” Evan said.He only kind of remembered having a conversation with Dalton about some girl he was into, but he was happy he’d helped.He only wished he’d done it consciously and could take actual credit for it.“That’s great.She come to any games yet?”
Dalton beamed.“She was there when I scored against the Cougars.I only score like five goals a season, so I figured it’s a good sign I did it when she was there.”
“Maybe she’s your good luck charm.”
“She really is.”It was a five-hour flight, and Evan spent most of it listening to Dalton gush about his new girlfriend.He didn’t mind, though.Anything was better than agonizing over Barczyk.
* * *
Their schedule was packed once they touched down in Anaheim.There was a team-building hike, a dinner, and a strict curfew.As wound up as he was, Evan was asleep before he’d decided whether to message Barczyk.
They had practice the next day, along with video review with the coaches for not only the Orange County Mallards but also the Los Angeles Devils and the Bay Area Brawlers, the three teams they’d be facing in quick succession on this trip.There was no curfew that night, but he ended up at a mini-golf place a few blocks from the hotel with Dalton.His phone burned in his pocket, his fingers itching to grab it and text Barczyk, but he resisted the urge.
Not because he wasn’t friends with Barczyk.They were, sort of.It would be completely normal for them to hang out.But that moment in Pittsburgh when Barczyk had suggested they have more ‘lessons’ on the road...it had felt like a promise.Not a promise to act like things were the same; it was a promise to explore the ways they could be different.
So it might drive Evan crazy to keep his distance, but it was for the best.He’d get too riled up otherwise, too distracted.They had a game tomorrow, and he needed to focus.
Besides,he thought as he lined up his shot into the final hole of the course,anticipation makes it more fun.
* * *
The only real, unguarded interaction between Evan and Barczyk was their warm-up butt whacks.The whole thing had always seemed silly to Evan, but now there were undertones.They still did it because enough people had noticed it was Their Thing that it would be suspicious if they stopped, but Evan rushed through it.
“How efficient,” Barczyk drawled when it was over.“You've gotta learn to draw out the moment.Make it count.”
Evan shot Barczyk a look and skated away.He didnotwant to experience getting hard while wearing full gear.Add that to the list of reasons why this was stupidly reckless.
This probably wasn’t what Coach Jack meant when he said he wanted us to help each other…
With that sobering thought, Evan forced himself into game mode.
The Orange County Mallards were on a four-game win streak and came out strong, but once they went down two goals in the first, they seemed defeated.It should’ve been an easy game after that as both teams went through the motions.And it was easy.Easy enough that Evan, whose record was a nine-goal season, scored early in the third period.
He was pleased by the tally, knowing congratulatory texts would be waiting for him on his phone from his friends and family, and skated past the benches to fistbump the team.Unfortunately, the Mallards took offense to Evan’s goal, like he should’ve stopped trying just because they had.
“Insult to injury,” one of their centers said as they lined up for a face-off.“Having some bottom-liner like you score.”
Evan gritted his teeth.The Mallards weren’t putting up their best effort, but Evan had worked for his goal.It hadn’t been easy to get that shot off, and he’d still gotten the puck cleanly over the goalie’s blocker.It was a good goal, not some fluky deflection, and he resented the implication that he sucked too much to score when clearly it wasn’t the case.
“Play better defense,” he grumbled under his breath just before the ref dropped the puck.
Evan spent the rest of his shift eating those words.The center stayed on him like glue, no longer caring where the puck was or where the rest of the play was: where Evan went, he went, and he made sure Evan knew it.
After being pinned to the boards well after the puck had been sent up ice, Evan still couldn’t get the guy to let him go until a whistle sounded.
“Would you lay off?”Evan grumbled when he was free.He knew by all the unofficial rules of hockey, he was well within his rights to drop the gloves and fight this guy.But as far as he’d come with his fighting, he wasn’t ready to punch someone.
