Page 87 of Slapshot
“Good luck,” she calls after me.
I hurry down and take my place in the tunnel. The guys are vibrating with excitement and anticipation. Lex shifts from foot to foot, eyes straight ahead.
“All right, boys. Everybody ready?” Coach Garfunkle asks.
A series of cheers and grunts echo from the group of guys. My guys.
I watch them pass by, inspecting their gear and then running through my checklist. I follow them out and then double-check the bench.
“Stand still, Dalager, you’re making me nervous,” Coach Keller says. He loosens his tie.
“Sorry. I keep thinking I forgot something.”
He scans the bench. “Looks good. Try to relax. We’re going to need you to stay loose and ready.” Then he winks. Maybe Coach Keller has a soft side after all.
“Kirk, what in God’s green earth are you doing? Get out there and warm up,” Coach growls at our goalie.
Then again, maybe not.
* * *
Good things, like bad, seem to come in pairs. Lex not only gets a chance to play with the second line, he scores the game-winning goal.
We head to the Biscuit after the game. I don’t bother changing out of my new hockey jersey. I guess I’m one of them now. At their usual table, I sit in a chair wedged in next to Lex, and someone pushes a beer in front of me.
He drapes an arm around my shoulders as he accepts congrats from the server on his goal tonight. “Thanks, I had my lucky charm.”
My stomach flutters as he winks at me. “What’d I tell you about luck?”
“That I hold my own.” He wraps both arms around me. “Get it? Hold my own?”
“Oh brother,” Patrick groans. “This the kind of shit we have to look forward to? I need new friends.”
“At least you don’t have to live with him,” Ash says. “I need to find someone to help me drown out the noise of you two.” He sits tall and looks around the tables. Two girls are vying for spots on his lap before he’s done a full sweep of the place.
“As easy as snapping your fingers.” I roll my eyes.
“Where’s Vivian tonight?” Lex asks. “I was kind of looking forward to seeing her sitting around a table of hockey players.”
“She wouldn’t be caught dead at this table.”
“Look who’s talking.” He pulls on my jersey and drops a kiss to my lips.
“Vonne,” someone calls his name and reluctantly I break the kiss. This is his night. He should enjoy every second of the attention.
And he’s good at taking the praise. Humble and appreciative.
“Looks like he finally got what he wanted,” Pax says with a nudge from my other side. “Rookie gets to talk about his hockey game all night.”
“I heard that,” Lex says, leaning around me. He hasn’t stopped touching me, even as he’s been pulled in a million different conversations.
“You earned it,” Pax says and lifts his glass to him.
“Thanks, man. I appreciate it.” Lex looks to me. “Are you bored to tears? Do you want to leave?”
“And miss out on everyone talking about how great my boyfriend is? Fat chance.”
We close down the place. The guys start to grab sober rides, but Lex and I decide to walk back.
