Page 64 of Two Guys One Puck
Ktytor: Do you have to ask?
Seaborn: answer the question.
Ktytor: Yes.
My heart stops for a single moment.
Ktytor: I won’t even make you wager, unless you want to.
Seaborn: Maybe I want both.
Ktytor: Good.
It’s going to be a really long month.
TWENTY-ONE
KTYTOR
One month later
We don’t talk every day, but there are messages, and I see him watching my stories. Not every day, but he’s there, smiling in his profile photo like every fucking American. It’s almost endearing how happy they pretend to be. It used to drive me mental, but after years living here, I’m used to it, and with him, I find it cute. Which clearly means I’m losing my mind and need to go home and touch some grass.
Culture shock is real. But all in the pursuit of the NHL. It’s what I have to do. One day, I’ll be able to go home to my grandparents’ farm and never leave. Until then, I’m woken by all the noise at an ungodly hour.
“How does anyone sleep through all this shit?” I rub my temples as my suite mate and I get out the door for practice.
“Huh?” Sleepy asks, never fully awake until we’re on the ice, no matter the time of day.
I’m used to his non-comprehension by now. How he gets through his classes, I’ll never know. “Doesn’t matter. Keep drinking your coffee.”
Sleepy nods, and we approach Grumpy at the door to the arena.
“Morning, K-pop.” Grumpy is what I call our team captain, but only in my head, even though he calls me K-pop like the rest of the team.
“Morning, Boondock,” I say, using his team-sanctioned nickname. Something about him being large, catholic, and from Boston made them refer to him as the movie? I don’t really understand. Most hockey players aren’t exactly Shakespeare with their nicknames.
I like my names better. I call my line the seven dwarfs because each guy on it resembles one of their personalities.
“Ready for the game?” Bashful asks when we get in the locker room.
“Do you doubt me?” I ask.
He sizes me up but shakes his head. “Never.”
“Good. I’d never forgive you.”
Bashful’s gaze flashes up to meet mine, and I laugh. “Oh, you’re joking.”
“I love how innocent you are.”
He immediately breaks the eye contact. I know it’s hard for him, and I’d never give him shit for it. He’s the youngest on the team, but he’s already a great wing.
Dopey, our goalie, is naked, as per usual, lying under the skylight. He claims something about sunbathing and vitamin D helping his game. I don’t have the heart to tell him what he thinks is a skylight is an LED screen mounted on the ceiling to make the locker room less like a dungeon.
“Why don’t you ever sun your back, Dopey?” Happy asks before I can stop him.
Dopey picks up his head. “You think I’m just going to give you all a free show of my chocolate starfish? We have to have some boundaries with each other.”
