Page 7 of Unmasking Love
"Have you never been distracted by a pretty girl?"
Iwakefrommyafternoon nap to another link from the realtor. I feel bad. The poor girl has sent me ten different homes in the last month and I haven't responded once. I don't know how to tell her not to bother. I feel like she'd tell Felix and he’d try to change my mind. Who knows what antics doing so would involve?
It's bad enough he bought a bike and showed up to take a ride with me. And he invited me to his friend's engagement party a few weeks ago. I wasn't able to get out of it because Bryson organized a car to get us there together.
We traveled for preseason games over the last two weekends. I got some playing time and it felt good. As soon as my skates hit the ice in a game scenario, I forget all about the pressure. I just play hockey; the sport I have dedicated my life to, even though it hasn’t been as devoted to me.
I read the message from Harper and pocket my phone. Each team has a different take on gameday mornings so sometimes I’d have to be at the arena for a skate, or meetings, or both. D.C. has an optional skate but a mandatory meeting at 10:30 am. After we can have lunch at the facility or head home to eat. I make myself a large meal at noon, nap from 2-3 and then do a quick at-home body weight circuit to get my blood pumping.
Today, I did a forty five minute full-body blitz from my favorite trainer on the GeerSHFT app, Cole M. Then I took a quick shower and got dressed. I found a company that makes suit pants, shirts, and jackets outof performance material. It allows me to ride my bike to the arena comfortably. With a plant based protein shake in hand, I grab my reflective vest to throw over my suit coat. The ride home after the game is always dark; safety first.
I learned to slick back my hair with a little gel before leaving for the game. When I was in Seattle the social media team started posting slow-mo videos of all the players walking into the arena on game day and fans fired off comments about my helmet hair.
Since I wasn’t playing often, I figured the least I could do was contribute positively to the team’s connection with the fans.
Today, the sun warms my skin through my clothes as I hit the trail that runs towards the arena. The wind whips at my face and as I fall into the pedal stroke rhythm, my mind transitions to game mode.
I track the movement of my left leg as it pushes down the pedal and then pulls it up. I feel my heartbeat and breath with every rotation of my legs. It becomes a meditation even as the hills undulate under me. I keep the steady metronome going in my head. It’s like a second pulse that I focus on during the game. When I first got back on the ice after everything, I needed to center myself in a way I hadn't before and cycling became the physical force I rely on.
I also developed my mantra.
Breath in.
Focus.
Follow the puck.
Breathe out.
Focus.
Stop the puck.
With my mantra on repeat in cadence with my pedal strokes, the twenty minutes between my apartment and the Kofee Center pass quickly. The team lets me leave my bike in the underground players lot so I roll downthe ramp with a wave to the security guard. When I finish locking it up I see Crosby is waiting for me.
"Young Gun! You ready for the home opener?" He asks as I reach him. He slings an arm around my shoulder in a hug and I reciprocate with a pat to his back.
"Ah yeah, it'll feel good to see the building full."
"Oh, it's the best. The Renegades have such an amazing opening video sequence! It gets me pumped up instantly. And the staff puts pictures of goals we've scored against the opposing team along the tunnel so we can feel the domination as we walk out onto the ice." He swirls his iced coffee and takes a sip. "And, a few other teams have copied this but we were the first.” He leans towards me with a hand covering his mouth. “ We put our ice girls in the opponent's tunnel so they're distracted by pretty girls before they play."
I laugh, "You really think that works?"
"Have you never been distracted by a pretty girl?" He raises an eyebrow at me and I shake my head. Now isn't the time to get into why I don't even let myself look at girls in the first place. Lack of object permanence and all. "Well, when it happens you'll know how much of an advantage that can give us."
We make our way down the tunnel and answer the social media team's question of the day. Today it's a vote between pumpkin spice or apple flavored treats. When I answer apple Crosby gives me a look of shock and shakes his head.
That's fine, I'm not trying to bond or make meaningful connections with these guys anyways. If he likes pumpkin spice and I prefer the much superior caramel apple, so be it.
Twenty minutes later I’m in half my gear when Felix comes and sits down on the seat next to me at my locker. He’s crowding me off my own damn bench.
"Young Gun, how come you haven't texted my girl, Harper, yet? She said she hasn't heard from you even though she's sent you ten different listings."
Oh, the real estate agent. Right. How do I explain to him I'm not going to tie up a bunch of money in a mortgage when I'll likely be moving before the season is out. Rent might be a waste of equity but it's liquid.
"I'm not sure I'm gonna buy a home I guess, I didn't want to waste her time."
Felix narrows his eyes at me before nodding slowly. "Fine, but at least meet with her to let her down. I set this up for both of you but if you're not buying you've gotta be the one to tell her."
