Page 27 of Interference

“Apparently.” I eased myself down on the couch, leaving some comfortable distance between us. “I watched the game tonight. I don’t quite understand how it works yet, but it was definitely entertaining.”

Anthony’s laugh was halfhearted at best. “They’re usually better than this one. Tonight’s game was…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

I studied him. He had looked pretty frustrated whenever I’d seen him on-camera. There’d been a moment when he’d been smiling brilliantly and hugging his teammates as they celebrated a goal—one scored by his boyfriend, no less—but the rest of the game, he’d just seemed… off. I hadn’t watched him play enough to know if that was normal for him, but the commentators had even said he wasn’t himself tonight.

“I don’t know what’s going on with number twelve tonight, Eric,” I recalled one of them saying as Anthony had skated to the penalty box the second or third time. “Not just the penalties, but the turnovers. I’ve never seen Aussie struggle this much to control the puck.”

“This has not been a good season for him,” the other commentator had remarked. “He’s been inconsistent since the preseason. Turning over the puck, taking penalties, allowing rushes—I don’t know what’s changed, but this is not the same defenseman we’ve seen the past few seasons.”

I turned to Anthony. “Can I ask you a question about…” I gestured at the TV. “The game?”

He studied me warily, as if he thought I might ask about everything the commentators had been saying about him. “Um. Sure. Go ahead.”

“I guess I’m just curious—why do they call you Aussie?”

He laughed, sounding relieved as if he’d thought I was going to ask about his penalties or something. “Oh, that. My last name is Austin, so that’s what guys have called me since my youth days.”

“Ooh, okay. I guess that seems obvious now.” I gestured over my shoulder. “I saw your name on your jersey and everything, but I wasn’t sure, you know? And you don’t exactly sound Australian.”

Anthony snorted. “No, and I won’t torment you with my terrible Australian accent, either.”

“Can’t be any worse than mine, but I’ll take your word for it.” I nodded toward the TV again. “I’ve never actually watched hockey before. It was, um… It was interesting.”

“Yeah?” He raised his eyebrows. “In a good way?”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely. I just don’t understand a lot of it.”

He was nodding as I spoke. “I’ve heard it’s a little weird for people at first.”

“It wasn’t for you?”

“I’ve been playing since I was like four, so…” He half-shrugged. “I was internalizing all the rules before I learned how to write my name.”

I whistled. “I couldn’t even in-line skate when I was a kid. You were playing hockey at four?”

“A lot of us start young.” He twisted toward me and rested his arm on the back of the couch. “One of these nights, we can watch a game, and I can explain some of it. It’s a little late tonight to start one, though.”

“Yeah, I’m not going to last much longer tonight. That does sound like fun, though.”

His eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Sure.” I shrugged. “I’m curious about it. Like I said, it was fun to watch.” I paused. “But while we’re on the subject—what the fuck is offside?”

Anthony laughed. “That one trips everyone up at first. Trust me.”

“So it’s not just me?”

“No, definitely not.” He leaned forward and put his glass on a coaster. “Okay, so the ice is divided into three zones…”

I jolted awake and flinched away from the light, but I didn’t flinch very far. A heavy, familiar weight on my chest kept me mostly still, and as I exhaled and relaxed onto the mattress, I let my hands settle on Lily. She licked under my chin, and I realized she’d been doing that when I awoke.

“Fuck,” I whispered into the stillness. I wiped a sweaty, shaky hand over my face, then petted her. “Good girl.”

Over the thumping of my heart, I realized there was another sound. Another rhythmic thumping that was getting louder.

Footsteps, my brain decided, and a second later, there was a tap at my door.

“Wyatt?” Anthony sounded worried. “You okay?”

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