Page 53 of Interference

In turn, I told him about the time my unit was doing some training out in the field, and before we’d even started putting up our tents, our commander had ordered all of us to roll in this giant mud puddle.

“Why the hell would he do that?” Anthony asked.

“So we’d stop trying to stay dry.” I rolled my eyes. “His philosophy was that you were going to get wet, cold, and uncomfortable sooner or later, and you were better off just getting used to it than wasting all your energy staying dry.”

Anthony’s eyebrows climbed as I spoke. “That… sounds like you just spent all your energy being wet, cold, and uncomfortable.”

“We did.” I huffed sharply. “I think he just got a kick out of being able to tell a bunch of privates to roll in the mud.”

“Nice guy.”

“Not at that rank.”

When we got into comparing the specs of a couple of tents, or figuring out which first aid kit struck the right balance of complete, compact, and lightweight, or when I was trying on some parkas, Anthony offered his opinions but never tried to override me. He really did follow my lead, and he accepted that I knew what I needed. He even reminded me a few times that it was okay to get something I liked.

“As long as both options keep you warm and dry,” he said as I tried on some sturdy, arctic-grade boots, “there’s no reason you can’t go with something that looks good too.”

He made a valid point, and he didn’t say a word when I chose the slightly more expensive boots over the equally well-made but retina-searing green-and-yellow pair.

As much as I hated needing all the things we were getting today, I actually enjoyed spending this time with Anthony. It was a nice balance of irreverent conversation and serious discussions of the pros and cons of particular products. One minute, I was laughing my head off as Anthony flamboyantly modeled a bright pink parka and a pair of neon yellow-framed sunglasses. The next, he was suggesting a different brand of insulated undershirts than the one I’d picked out.

“Those are probably fine.” He plucked another off the hanger. “But this is the same company that makes my base layer. The stuff I wear under my hockey gear.” He inspected the fabric and rubbed it between his fingers. “Feels like the same material, too.” Handing it to me, he added, “It’s seriously comfortable, and it’ll keep you warm or cool, depending on the situation.”

“Really?” I took the shirt from him and touched the smooth material. “So this is what you wear when you play?”

“More or less, yeah.” He gestured at it. “I used to wear a different kind, but it would bunch up and wrinkle in the worst places. That one—I don’t know if it’s how it’s sewn together, the material itself, or what, but it doesn’t ride up or bunch.”

That was testimony enough for me, so I tried on one of the shirts. True to his word, it was incredibly comfortable. Obviously the real test would be when I was out in the elements, but if an ice hockey player could vouch for them helping to keep him from getting too hot or cold, then that was enough for me.

I ended up getting three of the shirts, and as I put them into the cart, I said, “I never thought much about what you guys wear. Just looks like a bunch of pads under a jersey.”

Anthony laughed. “There’s a lot to it. And that time I tore up my arm mountain biking?” He tapped a knuckle against the center of his chest. “Lucky me, I was wearing my chest protector.”

“Like, the one you wear to play hockey?”

He nodded. “It was broken in and it fit me well, so I figured, why not? Good thing, too.” He grimaced. “I landed on a rock. Knocked the wind out of me, but it could’ve been a lot worse.”

I blinked. “Do I even want to know how you got the rest of the way down the mountain like that?”

“On my bike,” he said with a shrug.

“On your… With your arm bleeding and after you had the wind knocked out of you?”

“Well, yeah. My knee was scraped and bruised all to hell, too, so I wasn’t going to walk down.” He snorted. “That would’ve hurt.”

“So you… rode down.” I cocked a brow. “Why do I feel like you didn’t take it slow or easy on the way down?”

He grinned, all teeth and mischief. “The faster we went, the sooner I didn’t have to ride anymore.”

“Oh my God,” I said on a laugh, and I rolled my eyes as we kept walking. “I feel like you and my Army buddies would’ve gotten along really well.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you kidding? These are the same dumbasses who took an undercar roller—you know, the flatbed thing you use to get under a vehicle and work on it? They stood on it, held a piece of rope like they were waterskiing, and let a Humvee pull them around.”

“Ooh, that sounds fun!” Anthony’s eyes lit up. “A skateboard would be even better. Oh! Or one of those hoverboards!”

I facepalmed. “Jesus Christ.”

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