Page 6 of Puck Your Feelings
"I said youtalkedlike a hockey textbook. There's a difference."
"Not a meaningful one."
The smile breaks through fully now, and it transforms his entire face from sharp and defensive to something almost friendly. "Fair point."
My phone buzzes again—Dad, no doubt—but I ignore it.
"So," Becker says, standing up and stretching his arms above his head in a way that makes his hoodie ride up and reveal a strip of skin above his jeans. I very deliberately look anywhere else. "I guess we're doing this."
"Guess so."
"Three weeks of forced bonding in the wilderness with no wifi and probably terrible coffee."
"I brought my own coffee," I say. "French press."
Becker's eyebrows shoot up. "You brought a French press to training camp?"
"I like good coffee."
"Oh my god." He's grinning now, and it's deeply annoying. "You're one ofthoseguys. Let me guess—you alphabetize your protein powder collection and fold your underwear?"
"I organize by nutritional content, actually," I say before I can stop myself.
Becker stares at me for a long moment, then laughs. "This is going to be the longest three weeks of my life."
"Likewise."
He heads for the door, then pauses. "For what it's worth? The tax form thing was a low blow. You're more like... a really boring instruction manual. For something nobody wants to buy."
"That's not better."
"Wasn't trying to be." He pulls open the door, and I can see other players milling around in the hallway beyond. "See you on the bus, roomie."
The door closes, leaving me alone in the conference room with my phone full of ignored messages and a growing sense that I've made a terrible mistake accepting this transfer.
I pull up my messages.
Dad:Call me. Now.
Instead, I open the team's official app and navigate to the roster page. Riley Becker: defenseman, five seasons with the Wolves, 2.1 points per game average, known for "solid defensive play and team leadership."
There's a small note at the bottom:Host of "Ice Cold Takes" podcast.
I pull up the podcast page against my better judgment. The latest episode—uploaded approximately two hours ago—is titled "LIVE: Training Camp Chaos (ft. Unexpected Guest Appearance)."
It has 85,000 views.
I click play.
"—and another thing about Gatorade..."
I listen to the whole thing. All thirty-seven minutes of it, including the part where I interrupted, the part where we traded insults, and the part afterward where Becker signs off with: "Well, folks, I think I just committed career suicide, but at least we got it on tape. Subscribe for more disasters, apparently that's my brand now."
The comments are a mix of people praising the "entertainment value" and people concerned about "workplace hostility."
One comment catches my eye:These two are either gonna kill each other or fall in love. No in-between.
I close the app so violently my phone momentarily freezes.
