Page 14 of Don't Puck His Best Friend
“That’s exactly what blind means, you moron.”
Sirus rolls his eyes. “Look, it’s low pressure. She’s normal. She’s not in hockey circles, so she won’t spend the whole night asking if you know Sidney Crosby. You’ll probably never see her again after Friday. Just one evening of being charming, which I know you can do when you’re not being a grumpy hermit.”
Sirus’s not wrong about my hermit tendencies, but there’s a reason I keep my dating life separate from hockey. Too many girls see the jersey before they see the person, and I got tired of being treated like a novelty instead of an actual human being. I leave those girls for Liam. He eats that up.
“Come on,” Sirus continues, sensing weakness. “I’m asking as a teammate. Help me score.”
“That’s possibly the worst phrasing you could have chosen.”
“You know what I mean.”
I do know what he means, and despite my better judgment, I’m actually considering it. Sirus’s a good kid, even if he does have the emotional intelligence of a hockey puck sometimes. And it’s not like I have anything better to do Friday night besides homework and Netflix.
“I’ll think about it,” I say finally.
His face lights up like I’ve just promised him a Stanley Cup ring. “Really?”
“I said I’ll think about it. That’s not a yes.”
But he’s already bouncing on his toes like an overgrown puppy. “You’re the best, man. I owe you big time.”
“I haven’t said yes yet.”
Liam comes around the corner and says, “Cole is the best. What do you owe him for?”
Great. Now Liam’s going to give me shit.
Sirus lights up. “My man is going to come on a double date with me this Friday.”
Liam grabs my shoulders and laughs. “You got this nerd to agree to that?” He lowers his voice and mocks, “Little Cole needs someone to set him up on dates with?”
I push him off. “Fuck off.” I laugh.
Liam laughs, running a hand through his hair. “If he bails, I’ll step in.”
“He would,” I say to Sirus.
Sirus just laughs and says, “Nah, it has to be Cole.”
The contrast between me and Liam is obvious, and I hate the look on Liam’s face right now because he knows it.
“Alrighty then,” Liam says. “Have fun on your boring ass date.”
He leaves the locker room, and I follow behind. We walk in silence to our cars.
By the time I get home that evening, I’m already regretting my moment of weakness. My townhouse is quiet when I walk in, and I immediately feel my shoulders relax. This place is mine in a way that nowhere else has ever been. Clean lines, warm lighting, a mix of thrift store finds and the black-and-white photography prints I’ve been collecting since sophomore year.
I don’t live with Liam, which surprises people sometimes. We’re best friends, but we learned freshman year that when we dormed together that we wanted our own places. His version of organization is shoving everything into whatever drawer happens to be closest; mine involves actual systems that make sense.
Besides, I like having a roommate who isn’t on the team. Finn works downtown at some tech startup, keeps normal hours, and doesn’t feel the need to dissect every play from practice over dinner. He’s also got the best-behaved golden retriever on the planet, who comes prancing over the second I walk through the door.
“Hey, Rex,” I say, scratching behind his ears as he tries to climb into my lap despite being roughly the size of a small horse. “Miss me?”
Rex’s answer is to try to lick my face off, which I take as a yes.
The evening routine is feed Rex, shower off the day’s sweat, cook something that doesn’t come from a delivery app. While the chicken’s cooking, I settle at the kitchen table with my laptop and dive into the business management assignment that’s been staring at me accusingly all weekend while I was sick.
Most people don’t know I’m working toward a degree in something other than “professional hockey player.” Hell, most of my teammates think planning for life after hockey is admitting defeat. But I watched my dad’s construction company nearly go under when I was playing juniors, saw him work eighteen-hour days just to keep the lights on, and I promised myself I’d be ready when my time on the ice was over.
