Page 34 of Save the Game

“Thank you,” I say, immediately cracking it open and drinking half of it down. I’m parched.

“I’m sorry to hear about your friend,” she says solemnly.

“Yeah, me too.” I frown down at the business card. I’m the one who called him my friend, but that isn’t fucking right, is it? It doesn’t feel right—friend is a lesser version than what Max and I are. I can’t quite bring myself to use boyfriend, though, or even partner. I don’t know enough about serious dating to even know when those labels come into effect.

“Luke,” she says, drawing my eyes back to hers. “Unfortunately, there isn’t a brochure I can give you that will help with this. There isn’t a cut-and-dried way of healing—everybody is unique. Therefore, their interactions and the things they need are unique.”

I nod, giving her a self-depreciating smile. “I was hoping you’d be able to give me a list or something. Maybe a pamphlet.”

She returns the smile, kindly. “I know. But the most important thing to remember, Luke, is that there’s nothing wrong with your friend. He’s not broken, or different in any of the ways that matter. You can treat him the same as you usually do, while also being respectful of boundaries and listening when he tells you things.”

“Yeah, okay, that makes sense.”

“And consent is important,” she says, voice hard as she stares at me. “It’s important that you receive it at all stages, and that you understand it can be revoked at any point. It doesn’t matter if you’ve been together a week or five years, a no is a no, Luke.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I swallow, nodding.

“He doesn’t need you to try to save him, he just needs you to be there for him.”

“Okay. I can do that,” I reply confidently. Because that is something I know I can do. “Thank you.”

“Do you feel better?” She asks, and I laugh under my breath.

“Yeah, actually. I hadn’t even realized I was so…” I swirl my hand around in front of my stomach, trying to indicate the general feeling of queasiness. “I don’t want to do something wrong, that’s all.”

“You might,” she says, “but what’s important isn’t that a mistake is made, but how it’s fixed.”

“Right.” Nodding, I stand up and tuck her business card safely into my wallet. “Okay, thank you. Thank you so much.”

She smiles, kindly. “Of course. Anytime you, or your friend, need someone to talk to, I’m here. And that card has my personal number on it—I’m available any hour of the day.”

“Thank you,” I say, again, and gently close her office door behind me on the way out.

I feel…better about my decision to move forward with dating Max. Don’t treat him any differently is advice I can handle. I wish I could go see him right now; hell, I wish I could see him all the time. It’s unusual for me to become attached to men this quickly, or deeply, and I’m a little unsure of how to navigate this depth of feeling. I’ve always been a love ‘em and leave ‘em kind of guy, no matter how much I tried to be otherwise. But every time I’ve thought about not being with Max these past few days, I’m filled with a sick, sticky sense of dread.

I have a disturbingly caveman-esque voice in the back of my mind, chanting: Max Kuemper is mine, touch him and die. Ironic, really, given I was the one giving him shit about being possessive.

After changing into gym clothes, I head over to the rack of free-weights, catching the eye of one of my teammates in the wall mirrors. He nods at me and continues working at the leg press. After a few minutes, he joins me, grunting out the usual gym-bro greeting, and getting down to business. I end up doing a double workout, wanting to build up a good sweat before heading to work; Margot has plans tonight and Max has an away game, which means I’m on my own at the diner tonight—no special visitors.

After hitting the gym shower, I do a quick check of my bank account to make sure I’ve got enough funds to cover a smoothie from the bar. I’m fucking starving and a man can’t live off of greasy diner food alone. I send Max a good luck text just as I’m walking through the door of the diner, lifting my smoothie in a silent salute to Wendy, who’s near the door and assisting some customers.

“Is your boy coming tonight?” She asks as she joins me behind the counter, sliding the order through the window to Reggie, and leaning a hip against the wall.

“Nah, he’s got a game. I brought my laptop, though; do you mind if I set it up and watch?”

She waves a hand. “Do what you want, as long as the silverware gets wrapped and the customers get served.”

“You got it, Boss,” I say, grinning and saluting her.

Setting up the laptop, I get the livestream playing just in time to see Max score a goal. The camera zooms in on his smiling, sweaty face as the team converges on him in a mass of hugging and back-slapping bodies. I’m grinning like a fool, watching him skate the length of the bench, tapping the gloves of his teammates.

Propping an elbow on the counter, I lean my chin in my palm and enjoy a few minutes of uninterrupted watching. It’s impressive, the way Max moves like smoke through the opposing team, using footwork that shouldn’t be possible with skates on his feet. He’s got a look on his face that I’ve only seen once or twice; it’s almost peaceful, like stepping onto the ice aligns something in him that had been off-kilter before. I wish he could feel that comfortable all the time, and not feel he has to hide beneath too large clothes and a desire to be invisible.

I take the stairs at Max’s apartment building two at a time, arriving at his door and giving a quick series of knocks. I’m bouncing on my toes, unable to contain my excitement for the evening, until the door opens and I’m greeted by Marcos’ scowl. I barely hold myself back from rolling my eyes at the ceiling and groaning, but I manage it; honestly, I should be given an award for my impressive self-control.

“Hey,” he says, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame. It’s not lost on me that he’s effectively blocking me from gaining entrance to the apartment; ergo, no access to Max.

“Hey,” I respond, trying to keep the bite out of my tone. We’ve never exactly been friends, but up until now we’ve always been civil to each other at practice and school when we crossed paths. To say things have been tense since I’ve started going out with Max is an understatement.

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