Page 91 of Drop the Gloves
Riley snapped his fingers and pointed at Evan.“Cheerleading.You’d be a great cheerleader.The one who throws and catches people.”
When they got back to the hotel after being crammed together in a too-small Uber, they went their separate ways.It didn’t feel as much like a date when he ended up alone without so much as a kiss goodnight, but it also felt like the best first date he’d ever had.
38
“I getto hit you this time, right?”Riley asked.“You got me both games in Pittsburgh.”
He swung his stick towards Evan’s torso; Evan caught it before it hit him.“Not the front,” he scolded.The only thing worse than having a pre-game superstition was doing it wrong.
“Is it reverse good luck if we do it backwards?”Riley grumbled but moved so he was behind Evan.
“Reverse good luck?You mean bad luck?”
Riley drew the blade of his stick down Evan’s body, starting at his head and following his spine down, then across his ass before a light tap.Why the hell was this so sensual?Illegal.Mostly because it was really uncomfortable to be half-hard while wearing a cup.
“No,” Riley said.“Reverse good luck.Big difference.”Riley deemed seven swings enough to avoid ‘reverse bad luck’ and skated away with a look over his shoulder that made Evan want to follow him.
He didn’t, though.
Instead, he did some stickhandling while studying the Albuquerque Turkeys.The Turkeys had been a great team...over a decade ago.They’d had some ups and downs recently, including two big ones in the same season: a few years ago they’d made it to the Stanley Cup Finals after years of not even making the playoffs, only to lose to the Ohio Otters.Evan couldn’t imagine that kind of emotional atomic bomb going off in his life.He was disappointed whenever the Riveters lost in the playoffs, but it was somehow easier when it was a first or second round exit.A Conference Finals loss would be heartbreaking.
A Game Seven Cup Final?Fucking devastating.
The Turkeys had rebounded somewhat since then.Last year they’d made a respectable playoff push, losing in the second round; this year they were on track to make the playoffs again.They were scrappy, especially since they were in the midst of a losing streak at home.On the road they did fine, but in Albuquerque they’d lost five of their last six.That always made Evan wary; teams didn’t like to lose in front of their own fans.
Of course, teams never liked to lose.No one got this far in their career without having a competitive streak a mile wide.Evan had always used his to push himself forward.Strive to do better and contribute where he could.The Turkeys seemed to have more of a collective mindset; they used it to fuel theirteammoving forward.There’d be no easy shifts, no weak spots to exploit, just a determined team that was going to play hard from whistle to whistle.
When Evan glanced over at the Riveters, he worried Coach Jack had been wrong to give them so much freedom last night.They were ready to play, sure, but they weren’t ready to fight for a win.He saw it in the lazy, disorganized way they warmed up.There was always a point in the season where the switch flipped, and you went from playing game by game, getting your feet under you, to digging in to earn as much ground as you could before playoffs.The Turkeys had made the change already; the Riveters hadn’t.
* * *
Most of them hadn’t locked, Evan was forced to amend during the game.There were a few among them who had.Doyle was having a great game.Their backup goalie Reese was bailing them out of some sloppy defensive zone plays.Moreau had won most of his face-offs.
And then there was Riley, hitting everything that moved.
It wasn’t as out of control as it’d been in Quebec.This was more his usual style, throwing his body and running his mouth in equal measure.Tonight he seemed to remember they were trying to win a hockey game, and he was making great plays too.Evan and Vassiliev weren’t having spectacular games (okay, Evan was sub par but Vassiliev was doing fine), but Riley seemed determined and able to carry their line.He got three scoring chances just in the first period, and that was with only about three minutes of ice time.
“Much better,” Coach Jack praised him several times throughout the night.“That’s what I want to see, Barczyk!Play hard, but control it!”
“You’re having a good night,” Vassiliev said in the locker room.“You want to share some of that luck with the rest of us?”
“I already did,” he said, looking Evan right in the eye before turning to Vassiliev.“Not my fault you can’t hit an empty net.”
“I hit the post!”Vassiliev said.“I’ll get the next one!”
The game was going so well that Evan was still having fun despite his own mediocre performance.He had Riley joking on the bench again, and the tension from Quebec was gone.Thiswas what Evan wanted: he wanted to get along with his linemates and enjoy hockey and win games.They were up 3-2, so if they buckled down during the third period, they’d be good.
And that was when Riley took out Luc-Henre Baptiste, star center of the Turkeys.
In Riley’s defense—and crazy that Evan was the one making that defense in his head—it looked like an accident.Just an unfortunate play where they collided awkwardly along the boards.It looked eerily like when Riley had done that to Evan last season, or at least how Evan imagined it had gone (he’d never worked up the nerve to watch the replays).They hit the boards.They both went down.Riley got up and kept playing.Baptiste didn’t.
Once they realized he was hurt, the refs blew the whistle and trainers went onto the ice to check on Baptiste.They all stood there watching, but Evan turned to watch Riley instead.It was like they’d been transported back in time to that night in Philly almost a year ago, the one where Evan had been on the ice worrying about his shoulder and his career and his future, and Riley had been...doing what?
Standing there expressionless, apparently.Riley leaned on his stick, his eyes fixed on Baptiste but otherwise showing no emotion.He didn’t look happy about the injury, but he didn’t look upset about it, either.No worries for Baptiste and no remorse for having caused it.
This was the Riley Barczyk that Evan hated.He’d never gone anywhere.He’d just been hiding behind toothless smiles and grabbable curls and offers to help Evan.Help Evan what?Become a player like this?Just admiring his handiwork after potentially ending someone’s season?
Evan turned away and went to the bench.He wasn’t sure he could stand to look at any of it anymore.
