Page 10 of What It Means To Be Found

…I mildly wondered what his laugh would sound like, considering I hadn’t ever heard it before and his voice box wasn’t in the best shape.

The play started again, fans cheered, and hockey players skittered around each other all over the rink. Lots of stick slapping took place. Lots of shoves and body checks happened as well. Another of Logan’s teammates had gotten the puck and had started skating away from our end of the rink where the goal was, and I found myself scooting closer and closer to the edge of my seat. Suddenly, they lost the puck. The other team sped towards it at an alarming rate, successfully stealing it from the Ducks. I found myself clutching the armrest of the chair in angst, before realizing I was actually into the game.

Suddenly, everyone was over on our end of the rink as the opposing team shot and scored a goal. Number eighteen was the one who made the shot, and he decided to do a quick lap right past our group, spreading his fingers and licking his tongue in between them as he eyeballed Courtney and me on his pass.

“Eww,” I grumbled.

“What the fuck?” Courtney gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth in surprise. Josh’s face turned to stone as he glared at the player, who gave him a gross smile before he turned to skate away.

However, Logan body-slammed him up against the boards in front of us, halting his attempt.

They were fighting less than a foot away—they probably would have pummeled right into us had the rink wall and plexiglass not been there. By the way their fists were flying and their bodies were cracking against the plexiglass, I was surprised it stayed intact at all.

“Oh my god!” I gasped and stood up, not sure what my plan was because it wasn’t like I was able to do anything about the fight. Josh and Courtney stood up too, except Courtney was pulling Josh back because he was cussing at number eighteen for the gesture that he made toward us.

Logan looked furious.

Their helmets and gloves had flown off at some point, and the look on Logan’s face was pure rage. His dark eyes were somehow narrow while still being able to view the whites of them. His teeth clenched as he blocked one fist from number eighteen and quickly returned the gesture by planting his fist in his opponent’s jaw. He was heaving his breath, the muscles in his neck straining as he fought the other player.

“Logan!” I cried, banging my fists on the glass. Logan had a busted lip, but number eighteen looked worse. Eventually, one more fist to the face and number eighteen had collapsed to the ground, making Logan finally let up on the brawl. The refs' whistles screeched as other players finally swarmed the two and put distance between them. Logan was already skating away, ignoring the refs calling towards him as he went towards the time-out box.

“That’s at least a five-minute penalty, if not more,” Josh grumbled, frowning at number eighteen as he stood up and shook off his teammate’s assistance. It looked like number eighteen was also headed for the time-out box.

“Oh my god,” I was still standing at the plexiglass, remembering to use my legs and step back into my seat as I folded my fingers over each other. “Can Logan get kicked off the team for that?”

“What? No. It’s just a fight,” Josh explained, his lips twitching a little bit.

“What do you mean, it’s just a fight?” I asked. The others seemed interested in this conversation as well, if the way that they leaned forward in their seats meant anything.

“Fighting is allowed in hockey,” Courtney explained, “It’s how players solve issues between themselves.”

I just blinked at her. “Are you messing with me?”

Courtney and Josh both laughed at my reaction. “Nope.”

“They can hurt themselves! Logan’s lip was bleeding!” I gestured vaguely to the side where I knew Logan was sitting in time-out. I even glanced over at him, just to make sure I hadn’t imagined the whole thing. His helmet was off as he glared at the timer at the bottom of the Jumbo-Tron, mindlessly wiping at his lip which was only bleeding a little bit now. His curly dark hair was wet with sweat as he brushed a few curls off of his forehead to glare properly at the screen holding him hostage.

“Yeah, that’s why the fight has to end as soon as there is blood, or a player hits the ice.” Josh continued the conversation as if this sport was sane.

“Okay,” I could feel the sarcasm dripping from my voice, “What happens when there are both? Logan’s lip was bleeding, but he kept throwing punches until that guy hit the ice.”

“I have no idea,” Josh shrugged, “Again, I don’t actually care about the sport that much. I only know the gist.”

“Oh my god,” I pinched the bridge of my nose, “This sport is so toxic.”

“I mean,” Courtney shrugged, “You’re not wrong.”

“That was crazy to witness,” Beck mumbled from behind me. I nodded with her, agreeing.

“…Anyone else get kind of turned on by the fight?” Taylor asked, finally joining the conversation. Josh raised his hand and pointed directly at himself, and then at Courtney, who nodded her confirmation.

“You all are nuts!” I gasped, a hysterical giggle escaping my lips.

“Oh please, like you didn’t feel anything watching Logan beat the shit out of some punk for your honor.” Courtney leaned forward to give me a disbelieving look across Josh’s lap.

“What are you talking about?” I widened my eyes at her. She was the biggest feminist I knew. I couldn’t handle the fact that she of all people was genuinely turned on by a guy going out of his way to harm another person.

“Logan saw number eighteen do that gross thing with his hand, and he didn’t hesitate to step in. I’m not saying fighting was the way to go, but watching Logan react that instinctively to defend his friends was kind of hot,” Courtney explained. Taylor started snapping their fingers in agreement with her. I rolled my eyes hard, glaring at all of them as I still couldn’t believe my ears.

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