Page 44 of Shots on Net

In the end, Coach keeps me in for the last period. We lose 3-6, which ends up being our worst loss of the season thus far. It’s also our last game of the season before Christmas break. Pissed off and ashamed of myself, I keep my head down and don’t talk to anyone in the locker room. I know that it’s not up to the netminder alone to win games—I know this—but that doesn’t make losses like this any easier to handle. Vas tries to talk to me, but I cut him off.

“Not now, Vas,” I snap. I’m not in the mood for platitudes. He closes his mouth and nods, eyes downcast with hurt. Fantastic. Now I have something else to feel bad about. He moves across the room to his stall, putting his back to me before I can apologize.

I take a window seat on the team bus and watch as my teammates file past me silently. Vas sits down next to me without speaking, tucking his backpack under the seat in front of him. I nudge him with my elbow and he looks at me, warily.

“Sorry about earlier. Didn’t mean to yell at you,” I tell him, fidgeting. Vas is my only friend, and he’s a good one. I shouldn’t be snapping at him when he hasn’t done anything to deserve it.

“That is alright,” he says, smiling. “We had a bad night, but it is not the end. Plenty of season left, yes?”

“Yeah,” I agree, turning away. My phone buzzes in my pocket. Leaning against the cool window, I watch my breath fog the glass. Vas nudges me.

“Perhaps that is your Zeke,” he says, about my phone. He’s probably right; nobody else texts me. I slide the phone out of my pocket and check it.

Zeke: Hey, Carter.

Carter: Hi.

Zeke: I’m sorry about the game.

Carter: Thanks.

Zeke: Did you know that ostriches have the biggest eyes of any land animal?

I stare down at my phone and let out a surprised laugh. Beside me, Vas chuckles softly and leans his head back against the seat, closing his eyes. Some of my bad mood dissipates. I read Zeke’s message again and shake my head in disbelief. I’m so glad he answered my ad for a roommate.

Carter: Bigger eyes than you?

Zeke: I refuse to take that as anything but a compliment. Have you ever heard of ostriches burying their head in the sand?

Carter: Yes. Everyone has heard that.

Zeke: MYTH! Ostriches don’t bury their heads. They do eat rocks, though.

Carter: Hockey pucks are frozen before games. Helps minimize bouncing.

Zeke: Ohhhh hockey facts!! What else you got? Hit me, baby.

Carter: The Stanley Cup has been stolen twice. Once in the 70s and once in…2018? I think.

Zeke: What the hell is a Stanley Cup? I thought cups were something you wore to protect your…you know.

He follows that up with a series of eggplant emojis. I have to put the phone down for a second and lean my head against the window to keep from laughing. I wish the bus ride home wasn’t so long.

Carter: It’s a giant cup that’s engraved with all the playoff winners. It’s badass. Definitely not used to protect our junk.

Carter: Thanks for texting me.

Zeke: Figured you needed a distraction. Want me to wait up for you?

Carter: No. It’s going to be super late and you have early classes tomorrow.

Zeke: What time do you think you’ll be back? I’ll set an alarm to wake up to make sure you got home okay.

I stare down at my phone in silence, an uncomfortable burn in my chest. Nobody has ever done something like that for me, and here he is offering it up like it’s not the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. My thumbs hover over the keyboard as I war with the desire to say something flippant or something sincere. I like him so much; it’s starting to freak me out. We haven’t even kissed yet, for fuck’s sake.

Carter: Probably not until 3am. Maybe later. I don’t want to wake you up, though. We can just catch up in the morning.

Zeke: See you at 3am!

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