Page 10 of Unlovable Player

“And don’t worry, I’m not checking any of you out, you’re all butt-ugly.”Except maybe Captain Donoghue.

I get a couple of snickers at that, but when I look at Captain, his face is like thunder again.

I workmy ass off in practise, and every time Donoghue comes near me, he averts his eyes. Jesus Christ, is he that uncomfortable being on a team with a gay guy? I would try to mess with him like I usually do, but it just doesn’t feel as fun like this.

Coach Wilson has us doing bag skates at the end of practise, and by the time we come off the ice, everyone’s too exhausted to keep up the bullshit.

I finish showering first and head back into the locker room with my towel, keeping my eyes on my cubby as I change.

Coach comes in and sees me there alone. “Huntington, everything alright?”

“Yes Coach.”

The others start to trickle in from their showers, nodding to Coach on their way to their cubbies.

"Come speak to me in my office when you’re dressed,” Coach says.

Shit, am I in trouble already?

He’s alone in his office this time when I step inside.

“Take a seat,” he says. His desk is pretty organized for a hockey coach. I note the framed photographs of his daughters. No wife. No wedding band. He’s wearing a nice, but not ostentatious or overly expensive suit. His thinning hair neatly combed over.

“How are you getting on?” he asks.

“Good, thank you.”

He looks down at the desk and his ears get red as he speaks. “I heard you had a little trouble at Yale.”

Coach is a pretty softly-spoken guy. From what I remember of our games against his team, he wasn’t the kind to shout a lot from the sidelines. But his voice is even quieter now.

A wave of shame washes through me and I keep my gaze trained on my knees.

“You don’t have to say anything, I just want you to know if you ever need to talk, I’m your coach now, and… well, my door is always open if you need it.”

“Oh.”Well fuck, what do I say to that?“Thanks Coach.”

I want to ask him how much he knows about my ‘trouble’ at Yale. And is he telling me this because he’s scared my dad will sue him if I make accusations?

“But I’m fine, honestly, all that’s in the past now and I’m just here to play hockey, and not cause any trouble.”

He sighs and his entire body seems to relax.

“I think we can make that work,” he says, coming round the desk to pat me on the shoulder. So he’s not scared to touch me then?

On my way out, I catch Austin and a few of the other guys leaving.

The one whose sister I insulted asks me if I want to grab lunch with them at the cafeteria. Is this some weird hazing thing? Coach is still standing there, watching us, so I don’t have much choice but to say yes.

“What do you feel like?” One of the guys asks.

“How about bagels?” Austin suggests. He says it likebegels. Cute, but I’m still kind of pissed with him.

We all agree onbegelsand Captain leads the way to a cafeteria on the third floor of the business school building just around the corner from the arena. It’s nothing like the draughty dining experience at Yale. The long tables like something from a Tudor drama. With the house flags and ornate awnings. Probably reminiscent of a lot of the students’ parents’ highland castles.

We get our bagels in the modern, diner-like cafeteria and take up a booth. A group of tall, bulky guys draw attention, and I’m reminded of how much this is a hockey-oriented school by how everyone seems to know these guys. Like they’re local celebrities. It wasn’t really like that at Yale. Now the football team… that was a different story. Those guys would walk into the dining hall and panties, (and some boxer briefs), would drop in unison.

“So Donno,” one of the guys I’ve now realized is Gray says. “We goin’ out tonight or what?”

---