Page 39 of Hockey Bois
Brady stared at him. “Seriously?”
“Do I not look like I run?”
A firm hand patted him on the head from behind. “I’ve seen you gasping for air on the bench,” GG said as he passed by.
“Fuck off!” Nick called back. “I do distance, not sprints!” He turned to Brady. “Hockey is all sprints.”
His considering look made Nick nervous, though at least it didn’tfeellike he was blushing under the scrutiny. He loved and hated these moments when he had Brady’s complete, undivided attention, no hockey or teammates to dilute the power of those blue eyes.
“Yeah,” Brady said slowly. “I get that. I can skate but can’t run for shit.”
“Then I’d like to cordially invite you on a run so I can beat you terribly and know how you feel whenever we’re on the ice together.”
“Uh, hard pass on that. I promise, you skate better than I run.”
“You must run backward.”
“It’d be more productive.” Brady stood up. This time he didn’t stumble. “You know there’s stick-and-puck Sunday afternoon, too.”
“So you want me to compete in a race one day, and then go play hockey with you the next?”
“You’re competing?” Brady gave him an appraising look, almost like he was seeing Nick for the first time. “Like, for best time?”
“That is generally how a race works, yes.”
“I thought you were just running for fun.”
“I mean… kind of?” Nick said. “I’m not gonna place or anything, so in that sense I’m not trying to win. But I’ll do decent, so that’s fun. It’s always nice to pass someone on the course and work your way toward the front.”
Years ago, the story would’ve been different. He used to run to win, or to get as close to the top as he could. Then he graduated and moved on to college and work, and it was impossible to keep up that level of training. Now, he ran more for fun and fitness than with any expectation of winning, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try, and it didn’t mean he wouldn’t look at his time. If he didn’t finish within the top 10% of participants within his age bracket, he’d adjust and try harder the next time. It wasn’t a sustainable way of training as a casual runner, but he still held onto the high expectations of his youth even though, year after year, his times slipped and his interest waned.
Brady nodded like he understood completely. Hell, maybe he did. Maybe it was the same with him and hockey, trying to maintain the high expectations of his youth despite his body and his priorities changing over time.
“Well, good luck I guess,” Brady said. “Don’t get injured, and if your legs aren’t gassed on Sunday, text me about stick-and-puck.”
“Will do.”
*
The drive home from Frederick made it abundantly clear he was not going skating the next day, or the day after. The race had gone well, all things considered. He’d met his self-imposed 10% goal, but he’d really had to push himself to do it, and he needed a few days to recover. Maybe he really was getting too old to be a casual runner who still expected to beat his competition.
Maybe next time he should just run and let his time speak for itself without comparing it to others.
He wanted to break the bad news to Brady about no hockey this weekend, but he was still playing with the wording. The whole drive, he’d been drafting the text message in his head and hadn’t settled on anything except “no hockey.” It was always a delicate thing, balancing his unrequited crush with his desire to be friends.
He liked Brady. Beyond the crush and the attraction stuff. Brady was a good guy, and a little lonely, if he was reading things right. They could definitely be friends, assuming Nick could get his shit together.
Thus his difficulty now. Texting Brady as soon as he got home sent the wrong message, right? It wasn’t flirty, but not having the patience to wait until he’d at least showered was a bit much. It definitely gave off more of a “I missed you today and am sad we can’t hang out tomorrow” vibe rather than a “We’re hockey buddies and oh well sorry no hockey” vibe.
Ugh.
Nick deleted his most recent attempt and put his phone down with more force than necessary.
A shower, dinner, and maybe a beer would help clear his head.
He didn’t bother dressing after his shower, the towel slung low on his hips while he went to grab his phone.Should’ve charged it, he scolded himself. He did a quick notification check before plugging it in. Jenna and his dad would be checking in on his run, and sooner or later he’d get an update from his mom about Thanksgiving plans. He was also fairly certain he owed Terry a beer for finishing up his practicum.
2 Messages from Jensie from Hockey
