Page 146 of Hockey Bois
“Truth or dare?”
“Truth,” Nick said. “Not sure why we’re keeping the pretense of the game at this—”
“What do you like about your job?”
If Nick thoughthisquestions were loaded and came out of nowhere, they had nothing on this one. He instinctively went on the defensive. “I make good money and I’ve got good benefits, plus the vacation time—”
“That you’re not allowed to use in June,” Brady interrupted, causing Nick to lose his rhythm.
“I get to do a lot of complicated work with numbers, and I like that,” he finished, arms crossed in front of his chest as if that somehow helped make his point.
Brady stared, the blue of his eyes lost in the darkness but not their intensity. “Are those good enough reasons to—?”
“Why don’t you play in a higher league?” Nick challenged. “You’re good enough.” This wasn’t part of his plan, not one of the questions he’d carefully thought out, but he felt like Brady was stirring up his shit and he wanted to return the favor.
“I’m not that good,” Brady said evenly.
The jerk didn’t even look upset by the question, and his apparent calm riled Nick up more. While Nick didn’t know anything about rating hockey talent, he knew Brady was too good for the team. He was a ringer, or at least he could be on any given night when he felt like it, and Nick didn’t get why he played down most of the time.
“You’re better than D4. You randomly decide you’re going to get a goal, and you get a goal. You decide you’re going to make someone look stupid, and you make them look stupid. Your hockey sense is amazing—the way you read other players and other teams. You skate circles around everyone. I don’t get why you’re slumming it with us when you could be a couple divisions up.”
Brady thought for a moment. “Guy’s as good as I am.”
“He’s very good,” Nick agreed. “But I’m askingyou.”
“You’re not going to let this one go, are you?”
Nick shrugged. “Not likely.”
It was only half true. If Brady asked him to shut up about it, he would. He wanted to hear the answer—he really did—but it wasn’t his goal tonight. He was more invested in the other questions he had, and he’d let this one go in a second if he thought it’d get him answers to those. Brady, however, didn’t seem that upset by the question; his reaction was almost an invitation to keep digging.
“You’re a pain,” Brady muttered more to the stars than to Nick. He stared at the sky a while before turning to face Nick. “Hockey’s supposed to be fun. You get high up, and everyone’s too competitive. It’s all about someone’s ego, and it makes people act like dicks. I just want to get my time on the ice, play with people who don’t take themselves too seriously, and go home knowing I had some fun.”
“So you admit you could play a higher division.”
“I got the skills, maybe,” Brady conceded. “I don’t got the grit.”
“What does that evenmean?” He’d heard similar things from friends on other teams in high school. Things coaches had told them, or maybe teammates, but it was this weird ideology that didn’t mean anything to Nick. Maybe he’d been more fortunate with the mentors he’d had for track. It made him queasy to consider how Brady had gotten this idea that he wasn’t good enough to pursue hockey more freely.
“It means I don’t want to break anything or anyone to get to the top,” Brady said, interrupting Nick’s thoughts. “I just wanna play.” He offered Nick a smile and reached over to squeeze his hand where it clutched at the armrest of his chair. “You trying to kick me off the team or something?”
“No!” Nick all but shouted. “No, I just… wondered, is all.”
“Cool.” Brady took his hand away. “My turn, right?”
“Yeah, guess so.”
“Do you really hate Pittsburgh?”
Nick was a little taken aback. There was a flash of real concern before Brady closed it off, his face perfectly neutral. “Uhh…” He took a deep breath. It was calledtruthor dare for a reason, right? “I don’t know what I think about the actual city. I’ve never been there, so I’ve got no basis for an opinion. Sports, though? I don’t want the Steelers to win. They’ve won plenty, and we’re rivals. Do I care if they win? Not really? They’re a good team, and they keep the Ravens good because we’ve gotta play them twice a year. Hockey?” He hesitated a minute, but Brady nudged his chair with his knee, so he kept going. “I don’t like the Pens. Yeah, they’re good, but there’s nothing redeemable about our rivalry. It’s designed to do nothing but hurt the Caps. I’ve had commentators and fans tear us apart over that rivalry for a decade plus. When it comes to hockey, I’m never going to like Pittsburgh.”
He saw the telltale signs of Brady shutting down.
“Hey,” he said quickly and grabbed Brady’s hand. He squeezed and waited until Brady met his eye. “We only play Pittsburgh, like, three times a year. Seriously, I don’t even care that much when we do. We win, awesome, we lose, oh well. Besides, it’s the offseason right now, we didn’t play each other in the postseason, and neither of us won the Cup. This is literally the best time of year for a Caps fan and Pens fan to bang.”
It was a gamble, but it paid off. A smile, small only because Brady was trying so damn hard not to let it shine through, pulled at his lips. “So I’m going to kiss you, and it’s completely unrelated to what you just said.”
“I’m not going to complain.”
