Page 2 of Hockey Bois
Score them goals, check those guys, do that hockey!
Nick laughed at his cousin’s message, pleased that she’d remembered he was playing tonight and that she’d even timed her little pep talk to reach him before he suited up.
Nick (9:03 p.m.)
i will do all the hockey, thanks
When Nick looked up after putting his phone away, he saw Brady eyeing him over his shoulder. Brady immediately looked away, turning down another hallway.
“So, new guy,” he said. “How long you been playing?”
Nick’s heart skipped a beat. He knew these questions were coming—knew everyone had a first game, and that he’d just have to have his as an adult instead of when he was a kid. The league commissioner had already made his situation perfectly clear to the team captain. All of that made it absolutely no easier to answer this question right here, right now.
“Well, uhm… I’ve been learning to skate the past few months… almost a year now, I guess… and I’ve been in this… this, uh… this class for beginning skaters who want to learn hockey. We did some scrimmages in the class and—oof!”
He’d been so preoccupied with his little memorized explanation that he’d nearly run into Brady, who’d come to a dead stop outside the locker room door.
“How many league games have you played?” Brady asked, eyes narrowed as he gave Nick a discerning once over.
“Can I count tonight?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake—” Brady rubbed a hand over his face and mouthed a silent prayer. He focused on Nick again before demanding, “You play D?”
Nick blinked in surprise and suppressed a laugh. Him? Play defense? Yikes.
Though he probably shouldn’t say “yikes” about his own play out loud, at least not to this guy.
“No. Winger. I mean, I’d like to play Center—I’m not bad at faceoffs—but I’m not fast enough to get back for the backcheck.”
Brady nodded approvingly, either at what Nick had actually said or how he’d said it. Nick admittedly was very new to playing hockey, but he was great at talking hockey. He’d been watching the Capitals all his life. He could talk gameplay and knew strategy… it was the physical implementation that he struggled with.
“Well, that’s something. Benns know all that?”
“Benns?” Nick squeaked, suddenly worried that he’d forgotten someone or something important.
“Benns. The captain. The commish told him about all that when you joined the league, right?”
Curtis Bennett, as Nick well knew from multiple emails back and forth with both the league commissioner and Curtis himself, was the captain of the Jagr Bombs. Now that he knew they were talking about the captain, he could see the connection and felt silly for not figuring it out on his own.
“Yeah, he knows. We’ve talked a bit—”
“Good.” That was all Brady said before turning to shoulder his way into the locker room with a grunt.
Nick looked up and down the empty hallway as though to say to the nonexistent crowd, Can you believe this guy?
His earlier nerves returned in full force, and Nick had a sinking feeling in his stomach. He’d been so worried about the actual mechanics of skating and playing that he’d overlooked the whole “team sport” part of the equation. Teams meant other people, which meant chemistry or, at the very least, being able to work with other people.
Him and Brady? So little chemistry they’d probably score on their own net if they were on a line together.
“Good thing I’m used to working with dicks,” he grumbled before following Brady into the locker room.
While Brady’s interpersonal skills were lacking, the rest of the team took Nick’s sudden appearance in stride. He was overwhelmed with more names than he could hope to learn in one night, given about a half-dozen enthusiastic handshakes and pep talks as he geared up, and then unceremoniously paired with an old dude named Gregg (with two G’s, as he was immediately told) and a young, lanky kid named Greg (with one G) who barely looked old enough to be in an adult league.
Nick (9:27 p.m.)
i am totally on the bottom line
He dumped his phone into his hockey bag after hitting “Send,” shaking his head and trying not to smile. He didn’t mind; he figured this was Curtis—Benns, he corrected himself—doing him a favor. Easing him into the game, not putting him on a line with high expectations, letting him get his feet wet. All of these things worked in his favor, and Nick was grateful.
