Page 126 of Lucky Shot
This entire week has been a dream. The kind that can only happen under the pressure of a ticking time clock. I’m leaving Sunday and every day the anticipation and impending heartbreak increase tenfold. We haven’t talked about it, but there’s an unspoken agreement to enjoy every second before it ends.
“Okay. That’s enough, you two. Have some sympathy for the single folks,” Travis says.
Nick’s mouth pulls away from my neck, but he keeps his arms around me.
“Are we that annoying couple who makes everyone else uncomfortable?” I ask Nick.
“Hopefully. Fuck knows he’s made out with enough people in front of me.”
“I heard that,” Travis says. “And I don’t do that. You’re confusing me with D-Low.”
“Where is Danny?” I ask.
“He went to visit his family this week. He’ll be back tomorrow,” Conrad says.
“He’ll be at your going away party,” Travis adds.
Nick’s body tenses.
“My what?”
“Trav!” Conrad and Penn say at the same time.
Trav’s smile twists into a remorseful sort of smirk. “Oops.”
“The guys want to have a little thing tomorrow night,” Nick explains. His voice is quiet and clipped.
“You don’t have to do that,” I say, feeling at once a little closer to heartbreak and touched by their thoughtfulness.
“Of course we do,” Travis says.
“He just wants an excuse to party.” Penn’s goalie mask is lifted, and he squeezes water into his mouth from a purple bottle.
“But it’s poker night,” is all I manage to get out as my throat tightens.
“So, we’ll play some cards too,” Travis says, then points. “You’re on my team this time.”
Nick growls, which has the tightness in my chest loosening.
Once we’re finished with the game, we say goodbye to the guys and then Nick and I take a few laps around the rink.
“I’m going to miss this,” I say to him.
He squeezes my hand. “I’m sure there are rinks in Arizona.”
“Yeah, but who will keep me upright?”
“You don’t need it anymore.” He lifts our hands and kisses my knuckles.
“Debatable.” I haven’t fallen the last couple days, but I’m not exactly graceful yet.
I breathe in the cool air and force myself to catalog it all. The chill on my face, the sound of our skates moving across the ice, and Nick’s warm hand engulfing mine.
Nick’s phone pings as we’re skating by the bench.
“Do you need to get that?” I ask him.
“Nah.” He pulls me along and we do another lap, but as we’re coming around again, his mouth is pulled into a tight line.
