Page 82 of I Blame the Alcohol

Hunter gives me a dirty look before running to join the back of the line. I’ve had the team doing drills for the last hour, trying to get as much technical training as possible before tournament season kicks off again.

“Cap, you’ve got to let some of the guys make it past the defense line. I’m falling asleep over here.”

I turn to see our goaltender lounging on the ground, using his lacrosse stick as an uncomfortable pillow. Nico’s helmet is pushed onto his forehead, and unlike the rest of the team, there isn’t a drop of perspiration on it.

“The man’s got a new boo, he’s feeling lucky.” Mason gives me a shit-eating grin from his position on the defense line. The rest of the team is lined up near the massive tiger mural on the wall, Taber’s mascot growling at every player who has tried and failed to take a shot on net today.

“More like he’s been getting lucky.” Nico says the unhelpful comment loud enough for the rest of the rookies to hear, drawing hoots and cheers from the lineup.

I ignore them and wave for the next person to go. Wes charges forward, his speed considerably faster than it was at the start of the year, and almost manages to make it past me with a quick deke to the right. I catch the swerve just in time, knocking him off-balance with a shoulder check before stealing the ball and passing it to Mason. Wes grunts and returns to the line while Nico makes a show of yawning behind me.

“Can I check out early? I’ve got a hot date to get ready for tonight.”

I glance at the clock on the wall, “What time is your date?”

“Nine-thirty. But prep starts at six.” Nico shoots me a wink, “Not all of us can roll out of bed looking sexy as hell.”

Mason glances at the rookie, “I don’t know man, you always look good to me.”

“Aw babe, you’re making me blush.”

I pointedly look at the clock again, “Your prep time is three hours away.”

“That gives me just enough time to finish visualizing. Got to be in the right mindset to score some goals if ya know what I mean.”

I shake my head, wishing I could cut practice short so I could have my own hot date. It’s been three days since I last saw Stella, and every minute we’ve been apart is a minute she’s been weighing on my mind.

“If I’m stuck here, so are you. Next!”

STELLA: My first appointment is Friday 4PM. Think I could swing by your place after?

ME: Of course, but I don’t want you to drive.

My phone rings the second I hit send, and I grin as Stella’s aggravated voice comes down the line.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I am fully capable of driving myself to therapy.”

“It’s not about being capable, Stel. It’s going to be an emotional experience for you, and I don’t want you to be at risk because you’re distracted.”

Stella goes silent and I can hear the counter arguments forming in her head.

Finally, she sighs, “Fine. Can you drop me off and pick me up then?”

I smile, “Don’t sound so disappointed. At least we’ll get to see each other.” Quickening my pace to a jog, I run through the empty corridors of the university, my night class having started five minutes ago.

“Yeah.” Stella exhales through the phone, “I miss you.”

The pang in my chest feels dangerously close to homesickness that’s associated with a person.

“I miss you too. I knew not seeing you was going to be difficult but…”

“It’s difficult.” She laughs, finishing my sentence and just the sound of it makes my day seem a whole lot brighter.

“And it’s only been three days. Imagine what tournament season is going to be like.”

I hate being the one to voice concern, but it’s a concern that has been bothering me for a while now. It has only been 72 hours since I woke up beside Stella and gave her a goodbye kiss, but that feels like an eternity ago. We live in the same city and yet our schedules make it feel like we’re two boats passing in the night. Even our gym routine from first semester has been thrown off with additional lacrosse practices.

“Times three.”

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