Page 67 of Fresh Ice
“Babe, what are youdoingin there?” Levy whined.
Alonso huffed, staring at his reflection. Levy had taken to calling him ‘babe’ and ‘baby’ constantly. Alonso felt thrilled and terrified and warm about it. “I’m going, I’m going.”
Alonso stepped out of the bathroom with a final glare aimed at his hair. The humidity made it fizzy and insufferable, and he’d eventually had to give in and tie it up in a bun, a few strands loose at the nape of his neck.
Levy’s face did something weird when he saw Alonso, going a little dumb and blank. Alonso raised his eyebrows. “What?”
“Nothing.” Levy coughed. “You never put your hair up like that.”
“Yeah, I do, at the gym and stuff. Sometimes,” Alonso countered. He knew Levy wasn’t being mocking because that wasn’t something Levy did to him, but Alonso still felt the urge to undo his hair and go as his normal self.
“No, you usually use a band because the strands fall out of a bun, remember? And you said it’s annoying.”
Alonso shook his head in disbelief. How did Levy even remember that? “Oh, yeah. Does it look stupid?”
“No. It looks great—you look great.”
Alonso felt himself flush. “Thanks. Uhm, you too.”
Levy grinned. “Thanks, babe. You ready to go?”
Alonso nodded, following Levy out of the apartment. He was actually excited about the bonfire they were headed to—there would be drinks and darkness and Levy, so it’d be easy to hide if things got overwhelming.
The party was exactly what Alonso expected when they arrived. A massive fire had been constructed next to the lake, people milling out of its reach like moths. It was hot, and the lake filled with forms dappled in flickering shadows.
They went to get drinks, finding Charlie talking with some of Levy’s other friends.
“There they are,” Charlie crowed when he saw them, he and Levy devolving into their intricate, ridiculous handshake. He turned to Alonso when they were done, face glowing with a wide smile. “We have to teach you the handshake, man. You’re one of us, now.”
Alonso tried to play it cool even as delight coursed through him at the invitation and the way Levy was nodding enthusiastically. “Sure.”
Levy groaned theatrically. “I should have thought of that. How didn’t I think of that?”
Charlie snorted. “Probably because the two of you aren’t apart long enough to need a handshake.”
“You know what? Fair,” Levy conceded.
Alonso let himself drift in the flow of the night. He let himself be manhandled through the handshake until he had it down, accepted the drinks given to him, joined the conversations he was pulled into. He listened to someone talk about their frog, and how scary snapping turtles could be, and how cool snails were. Listened to another person tell him about a boat accident they’d had as a kid, how she’d fallen into a bed of jellyfish but none of them had stung her.
He shared a story about Levy in the locker room, how he’d been dared to snort a wasabi pea and almost died. Answered questions about his first goal, about what it was like playing on the Hounds.
Playing with Levy.
He shooed Levy away to play beer pong, feeling comfortable where he was. It wasn’t long until he let himself be cajoled into getting in the lake with Charlie, the water a balm from the heat of the fire and laughter and drink and summer itself.
“Let’s play some chicken,” Charlie said. Everybody was tipsy enough for that to seem like the best idea anybody had ever had, even though Alonso was surprised nobody had drowned yet.
It probably explained all the paramedics chilling by a few ambulances, watching the crowd. Alonso couldn’t imagine this being sanctioned by the town, but it was probably one of those things that people were going to do with permission or without it.
“Alonso,” Charlie ordered, “you’re with me.”
“Hey, I’m not that small. I’m six feet!”
“And I’m six-five and double your weight. I could bench-press you,” Charlie boasted. He definitely hadn’t been left out of the NHL because of his size—the guy was a monster.
“I could bench-pressyou,” Alonso shot back, but it was a lost cause.
Charlie crouched underwater as Alonso scrambled onto his shoulders, making what was decidedlynota squeaking noise when Charlie got up.
