Page 2 of Game Winner
Layne grabs my hand as they close in on the Stallions goalie, passing with precision and so much speed.
Fittingly, Gio gets his stick on the puck, and with a shot, sends it sailing over the goalie’s shoulder and into the net.
“Goal!” Layne jumps up, pulling me to standing as the arena explodes with fans celebrating, and throws his arms around me. “Happy Birthday to me!”
Laughing, I pat his back then exchange high-fives with Gavin and Everett. “We’re up two to one. Hope we can keep the lead.”
“We have to.” Layne grabs his phone and turns so the rink is at his back. He takes a photo of himself, pointing at the scoreboard. “Whenever I’d come to games around my birthday with my dad, they’d win.”
And that’s one of the reasons I want a Slash win tonight. Layne’s had a tough year, losing his dad. I wasn’t sure he’d want to continue the tradition of seeing the Slash for his birthday, but when he mentioned missing his dad more than usual because he always looked forward to sharing Layne’s “birthday game” with him, I knew we needed to do something to make tonight special. So, I talked to Sage, and he came through.
There’s a minute left on the game clock, so we take our seats. I keep an eye on Layne and an eye on Soren, and barely pay attention to the action on the ice until the buzzer sounds, ending the period.
Soren turns my way, pushes up his helmet, and skates behind his net, pausing to nod at me before following his teammates toward the bench. I watch him go, admiring the strength in his form and the way sweat curls his hair at the back of his neck.
I wonder if he’s coming to the pub after the game tonight. We’re meeting Sage and a few of his hockey player friends to celebrate Layne’s birthday. If so, I hope we’ll have a chance to talk.
Layne smacks my forearm. “We should try to get Sage backstage passes for Winter Fest as a thank you for the tickets. I want us to debut a new song there. Two months is enough time to polish one of the ones we’ve been working on.”
“We can try for the passes. I’ll reach out to the organizers tomorrow.” I’m not surprised his mind is on the music, even while watching the game. He’s always inband mode, and his attention jumps from one thing to the next. At this point, I’m used to how his mind works. We’ve been friends since he moved next door the summer before third grade. At fifteen, we started a band, and what began as a lot of talk and little skill turned into eleven years of creating music, various band iterations, and chaos. But always, friendship. When we formed Flame Shade with Everett and Gavin, I wasn’t sure if things would last becausethe four of us are too alike in ways that have sunk other bands, but we gel like I never expected.
Everett leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees to join the conversation. “I like the one we were working on yesterday. It’s fast and loud and completely us.”
“Good idea,” Gavin says. Layne stares at the Zamboni entering the opposite end of the ice. Anyone who doesn’t know him would think he isn’t paying any attention, but in reality he has at least a hundred tabs open in his brain at any one time. Gavin keeps talking, “We should throw in a ballad to switch things up. Layne, the one you showed us the other day, the lyrics really hit me.”
“I’m fine with including a few new songs, but we should start and end with fan favorites.” I pull up the notes app on my phone to review the set list we’ve been batting around. “We’re not the headliners, so we have to be mindful of the time we have on stage.”
Layne drags his attention from the Zamboni’s slow laps around the rink. His pale blue glance is withering, and he’s clearly annoyed that I’m trying to reign things in. “I know we’ll have to narrow down our choices when we find out the length of the set.”
“Last year, we had thirty minutes and lower billing than this year.” Gavin’s head shoots around Everett, and he pins Layne and me with a glare that screams he’s not in the mood for our bickering. “We didn’t get the set length until two weeks before the show, so can we not argue about this yet, please?”
I shove my phone back in my pocket and hold up my hands in surrender. “Sorry. Anyone want a beer?”
“Hell, yeah.” Layne jumps up from his seat. “I can get it.”
“No. You’re the birthday boy. Drinks are on me.” It’s a tiny apology, but he smiles so I know I’m forgiven. After climbing over Layne, I head up the steps with Gavin at my side.
The concourse is crowded and perfumed with the scents of pizza, pretzels, fries, and nachos. I find what might be the only kiosk selling coffee along with beer on this level and wait in line for it as Gavin joins the line for fries.
When I join him with the coffee and beers, he tucks his phone in his pocket. “Do you think Layne will be mad if I skip the pub after the game?”
We both know the answer to that. “Mad? No. Hurt? Yes. Can you join us for one drink, celebrate him turning twenty-six, and head out after that?”
“I guess so.” Sighing, he rubs his hands over his eyes. “I had a long day of doing inventory at the store, and I have to be in early again tomorrow.”
I feel that. After giving tours all day at the museum, band practice, and keeping up with laundry, groceries, and the basics of life, all I want to do is fall into bed and sleep for a week. “One drink, toast Layne, then make your goodbyes. I’ll even make them for you if things get crowded, so you can sneak away.”
“Thanks.” Stifling a yawn, he claims the boxes of fries from the counter. “I kind of hoped we’d make it big enough that I could quit the day job. Maybe someday… Can I have some of your coffee?”
“I got you one.” I adjust the tray so he can see the small cup of espresso nestled between the other brews.
“You’re my hero.” He stifles another yawn. “Hey, do you think it’s possible to fall asleep at a hockey game?”
“Knowing you, yes. Just try not to snore.” Smirking at him, I dodge two kids wearing jerseys with Gio and Sage’s numbers on the back.
I’ve been tempted to buy a jersey of my own. But doing so and getting Soren’s number feels like I’d be staking a claim on something—someone—when I don’t have a right. Plus, the guys would just tease me about my “crush.”
We return to our seats and pass out the snacks. On the video board over center ice, a list of fan names and the sections they’re sitting in scrolls over a screen filled with balloons and confetti, and the Birthday Song plays.
