Page 27 of Scoring Zone
Austin has his plastic smile plastered on his face, and I’m worried. Without alarming anyone, I drag him down the hall into the office/workout room.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, shutting the door.
“The darkness is here.” He collapses into Trevor’s desk chair.
I kneel before him. “Okay. Tell me what happened.”
“It was fun. I was having fun. Although you shoulda told me I can’t dance,” he deflects with a forced laugh.
“You can dance. It’s just that you dance to a different beat.” I place my hands on his knees. “It was fun until…” I give him time to finish the sentence.
“I like your hands on me.” His eyes fixate on the carpet next to me.
“Is that bad?” My heart forgets how to beat.
“No. Yes. Maybe.” He grimaces.
“Do you think you shouldn’t like my hands on you?” I ask, and resist the urge to move my hands.
“What do you mean? It’s not a matter of should.” His eyes meet mine, then drift back to the carpet.
“Tinny…” I pause. “A lot of what you do is because you think it’s expected of you and you should do it.” It’s difficult to express without sounding demeaning or like he did something wrong. “Sometimes it’s easy, and it comes naturally. Like when a teammate struggles, you automatically seek them out and try to help. You think you should do it as captain, but you also want to do it as their friend.”
Austin finally meets my eyes.
“But sometimes it’s harder. Like when you’re furious about the ref’s calls and think your players are being targeted, but you have to remain upbeat and keep everyone positive. Some days, I know you’d choose to cuss the ref out if you could. But you don’t because you shouldn’t.” I play it safe with hockey references.
“Everyone has to do things like that. It’s part of life.”
“It is,” I agree. “But not everyone has to deal with a darkness that sucks the joy from the room. Tell me what the darkness took from you in that moment.” I won’t force him to face things he’s not ready for, so perhaps this is a compromise.
He stands and paces.
“I just wanted to be normal. That’s not too much to ask, is it?”
“Of course not.” I scan the room and wish Liska had a punching bag, but I spot a foam roller and scoop it up. We use them to stretch and prevent soreness, but I have another use in mind. “Hit the roller like it’s the darkness, and tell it to fuck off.” It helps that the foam is black instead of a cheery color.
“What if I break it or hurt you?” He stands by the treadmill, looking lost.
“Worst-case scenario, you break it, and we buy Liska a new one. Or you hit me on accident, and I need to ice my wound and get to tell the guys you beat me up,” I tease, and his worry slips away. The best-case scenario is him working off some pent-up tension and regaining control of his feelings. I hope I’m doing the right thing.
“Remember, you asked for this.” He gets into a boxing stance.
Chapter 13
Austin
Hitting Liska’s foam roller seems ridiculous, but Grayson wants to help, and since the darkness deprived me of a fun night with the team, I could use a stress release.
That’s a massive understatement.
I got lost in his body behind mine, craving his touch and how we fit together. For a second, I forgot about the team, and it was us, me and Gray. As soon as the thought to spin around and grind on him popped into my head—boom. The darkness closed in.
Gray readies himself as he holds the roller out in front of him.
I bounce on my toes and hit it. This room has the underlying pungent sweat of Liska which keeps my focus off Grayson.
“You hit a puck like that, and you’ll never score,” he taunts me.
