Page 108 of Pucking Matt
“Are you coming out tonight?” Harvey hollers.
I shake my head. “Not tonight. I’ll be gone all weekend.”
The guys say good night as I leave.
As soon as I enter my room, I dig through my drawer for my bottle of ibuprofen. I should have left sooner to take medicine because my cheek is fucking throbbing. I swallow the pills and lay in bed.
When I wake up, it’s because I rolled onto my cheek and it’s hurting like a motherfucker. I check the time on my phone and see I’ve missed a text from Amber.
Amber: I saw you get hit. Are you okay?
Hmm, she didn’t bother to text me more than that. That’s a first from a girl. Usually, it’s text after text. I like her style. Only one text to keep it simple.
It’s past midnight, but I write back anyway.
Matt: I’m good. Pick you up at 8
I swallow the medicine, drink water from my flask, and take a hot shower. When I look in the mirror, the bandage is soaked in blood. The gash is oozing blood, and my face is bruising. Shit. I switch out the bandage.
Dylan: (TikTok)
Dylan: Why is it so hot when hockey players fight
Dylan: I would let him fight like that for me
Matt: Find a new victim
I lay in bed, but this time I don’t fall asleep as easy. By the time my alarm clock goes off, I’ve barely had any shut-eye time. I drag myself out of bed and grab the bag I packed a few days ago for the weekend. And I don’t forget to pack a bottle of ibuprofen and my emergency kit that has a few bandages. One must always be prepared as a hockey player. I grab my iPad, my phone charger, my toothbrush, and my deodorant. I think that’s it. I change out the bandage again, noticing that it’s still bleeding bright red. It’s sensitive too.
Matt: I’m heading over to your house now
Amber: Ok
When I pull up to Amber’s house a little before 8 AM, I text to let her know I’m outside. I scroll on my phone, watching the guy’s posts from last night. It looks like they had a good time celebrating our win.
The passenger door opens. “Hi,” Amber says, meeting my eyes. And then she glances at my cheek. Seeing her face this morning is what I needed. I finally relax.
“Hi,” I say as she gets in. She puts her bag in the backseat and leans in.
“That looks…big. Can I tap it?” she asks.
I tilt my chin up to look at her.
“I’m just kidding,” she says, sitting in her seat and putting on her seatbelt. “It’s a good thing you can take a hit.”
“Are you ready?” I ask, enjoying her teasing.
She nods, looking into my eyes. “Ready.”
“So, you came to the game last night?” I ask, pulling away from her house and onto the street.
“Mhm,” she hums. “It was good until I started cheering you on to kick that guy’s ass.”
“You saw that,” I state as I focus on driving. I need to get on the freeway from here and then it’s an hour away. It could be longer with Saturday traffic.
“Do you have beef with him?” she asks.
“Yeah, he hit my face with his stick.”
