Page 160 of Hockey Bois
He flicked the switch, and it lit up with red zeroes.
“How we doing this?” Brady asked.
“NHL rules? Three tries, best of the three is the speed you keep.”
“Puck or ball?”
“I was hoping for the puck, but I think we’d scratch my sticks on the pavement.”
Brady nodded. “Fair enough. We warming up first—?”
“So you can figure out the best way to use the radar gun? Fuck no. You’re up first, then I go, and so on.”
“You’re gonna lose anyway,” Brady said with a smirk. He grabbed a ball, stick-handled it a bit (frowning no doubt at the curve on Nick’s stick), and then took his first shot.
“Twenty-seven miles per hour. Not bad. I mean the pros score in the nineties, but—”
“Eat shit, Nicki,” Brady said. “Pros. On ice. With a puck. And a skating start. Do better and then you can talk.”
Nick followed suit, stick-handling to get a feel for the ball and the ground, then took a shot. The radar paused before showing a clear 29. He grinned widely as he handed the stick back to Brady.
“Best of three,” Brady reminded him, then effortlessly let the next ball rip. 35 mph.
Over his next two tries, Nick managed another 29 and a 32. Brady’s last one earned him a 34. And then for fun, they went several more rounds. Nick improved to tie Brady’s 35, but Brady slowly worked up to 42 mph.
“All right, you win,” Nick sighed. He was sweaty despite the slight chill in the night air.
“I don’t know what you expected. Defensemen always win hardest shot.”
“Once again, pointing out that Ovechkin has—”
“Didn’t your boy Carlson win and have a faster shot than Ovi? Like one year later, there he was, first All-Star game, and he outdoes his own captain?”
Nick stared at him, then a smile broke out on his face. “You know stuff about the Caps,” he accused playfully.
“It’s the All-Star game,” Brady said defensively. “I don’t have to watch Caps stuff to see that.”
“Yeah, but you watched and you remembered and you brought it up.” Nick slid into his personal space and wrapped arms around his waist. He was dying to kiss away Brady’s pout. “Andyou won. So… my place or yours?”
A flash of panic (or maybe it was fear, but it wassomething) went through Brady’s eyes. He rested his forehead against Nick’s, melting into the touch.
“Yours.”
Chapter Seventeen: September
Nick (8:28 p.m.)
did i do something wrong??
it’s just i haven’t heard from you in a while, kinda getting worried…
Brady (9:02 p.m.)
no you didn’t do anything wrong
Brady (9:17 p.m.)
i’m fine don’t worry
