Page 61 of Delay of Game

Zach’s face was doing something complicated, a flicker of some unclear emotion that he managed to tamp down. “Parents usually do, right?”

“Yeah,” Nate said, and added, “Do you want to go upstairs now?”

Zach looked up at Nate, and he was smiling in a way that he usually didn’t smile at Nate anymore, the fake, sparkly smile that he used for the media. “Well,” he said. “You know, actually, I think I need to go home and make sure the dogs are okay, actually. I’m really tired, so I might just nap at home afterward. Don’t wait up for me, okay? It’s cool.”

Nate frowned, trying to puzzle out the expression on Zach’s face, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t like Zach had been there for the conversation, but he was staring at Nate like he’d never seen him before, still smiling that horrible smile. The effect was disconcerting.

“I mean, I was going to nap too—you can stay if you want to.”

“Nah, bro,” Zach said breezily. “I think I’m just gonna go home, buddy.”

“Zach, what are you...? Are you okay?”

“Completely fine, buddy,” Zach said, smiling and smiling. “Okay, I gotta go, bud. See you.”

“Wait?” Nate started to say, but the door was closed again, and he was alone.

What the hell was that?

Later on, Zach would never be sure how he got through that awful, fucking horrible game.

He’d played with a broken hand before and this was worse by far.

He managed to mostly avoid Nate in the locker room, which was a feat in itself considering their stalls were next to each other and they spent almost all of their time together. He got to the rink incredibly early, even earlier then Nate usually got there, dressed and went out for the preskate. He didn’t have much of a choice during the game, since they were lineys, but he tried to concentrate solely on the game and not talk too much even when Nate looked at him with those confused, wounded blue eyes.

He couldn’t entirely describe how he felt. He felt numb, but also, nauseous. It was like having a stomach virus except everything stayed in. But he felt like puking.

His play had definitely suffered. He actually couldn’t remember a game he’d played that was worse. His passes weren’t connecting, he wasn’t able to make good decisions about where he needed to be, and just...ugh.

It was as though his years of experience had completely vanished, and he had no idea what he was doing. He felt like what he imagined most people felt like as rookies, people who didn’t win the Rookie of the Year Award and the Cup their first seasons.

“Mon chum, you okay?” Bee asked him during the first intermission. They were down three goals, goals that hadn’t really been Mäkelä’s fault at all, but were at least partially due to Zach’s sloppy turnovers. “You don’t look too good.”

But it’s not like we’re dating.

But it’s not like we’redating.

But it’s not like we’re DATING.

BUT IT’S NOT LIKE WE’RE—

Across the hall, Nate was doing an intermission interview with the in-stadium commentator. Zach couldn’t hear what he was saying, but he looked green around the red imprint the helmet had left on his forehead.

Bee took him by the shoulder and shook him. “Zachary!”

“What?”

“Get it together, man!”

“I’m sorry. I’ve gotta—yeah. I’m gonna get it together.”

Bee was staring at him. “What the hell is going on, Zachary?”

“Something I ate.”

Bee obviously didn’t believe him, but she granted him some semblance of mercy and didn’t question him further.

He took a deep breath, and told himself,get it together.

---