Page 120 of Friendzone Hockey
January
Calgary in January is for the polar bears and penguins only. Seriously. I’m not planning to leave the hotel room other than for the game, but even looking at the snow from the window sends a shudder down my spine. Vancouverites aren’t snow people. The only exception being when we head up to Whistler-Blackcomb for a ski or snowboard day. Snow belongs on mountains, end of story.
“There you are. Come out with me tonight. I need to stick it to Sutter,” Casey says.
“Isn’t he your serious boyfriend now?” I can’t keep up with them. If they haven’t declared themselves official after the way they were at Christmas, someone needs to do it for them.
“What does our relationship status have to do with sticking it to Sutter? That never ends.” I think he’s honestly baffled that I thought it would end. “But while I do want to stick it to Sutter, I’m also your personal intervention. You don’t smile anymore, dude. Come out and quit being a cheerless motherfucker.”
Don’t I? Am I a cheerless motherfucker? Guess that tracks. My insides ached for a long time, so I turned down the thermostat on all emotions. I exist to play hockey now, and that’s it.
“I’ll be fine.”
“I know you don’t want to talk about it but?—”
“I don’t.”
“Tell him. I’m begging you, Stacey. Tell him before it’s too late.”
“It already is.”
“It’s not.”
“They’re talking about getting a dog together during the off-season,” I say.
“You’re right, wow. Once they do that, they can never break up again.” He rolls his eyes.
“Point is, they’re serious. I’m not breaking up something serious.”
“Dash has a right to know how you feel. He’d want to know. Of all people, you should fucking know that.”
I do, which means that’s the point that lands. But it’s only a seed planted. Nothing sprouts. “You can’t be sure of that.”
“I’ll prove it.”
“How?”
A sly smile takes over his face. “Leave it to me, Stace.”
It’s written into my top five rules of life: Never leave it to Casey. Especially not when he smiles like a fox about to pounce. But I don’t have any fight in me. How much trouble can he get into with Dash when Dash is thousands of miles away?
The game’s tonight, so no practice this morning. Gives me time to leisurely drink First Coffee. Casey’s up before me. Well, that’s never good. He’s demurely leaning over the counter, forearms down, occupied by the phone in his hands.
He’s smiling, chuckling. He’s chuckle-smiling. Wait, is that…?
“What are you doing with my phone?”
“I’m having the best chat with Dash right now.”
“Frommyfucking phone?” I’ll kill him.
Casey chooses to ignore the rage I’m blasting his way. “You’re right. Sorry.You’rehaving the best chat with Dash right now.”
“Case—”
“How have you never noticed how jealous he gets? It might be worse, or at least as much as, me and Sutter.”
He does? Since the damage has been done anyway … “Lemme see.”
