Page 18 of Overtime Goal
“I’ll order some breakfast, and then you can go to your room to change before we get on the bus.”
He looked at the door, then at me. “Think that’ll be okay? What if someone sees?”
“We’ve fallen asleep together before. Remember when Gabe saw me leaving your room and gave us shit for being lightweights who couldn’t stay awake long enough to watch a movie? Don’t get paranoid because of what we said last night.”
“You’re right.” He put on a crooked grin. “Besides, everyone’s so busy watching Holky and Dog’s every move, they wouldn’t think twice about what we’re doing.”
“Ornotdoing. Don’t sweat it, Riles.” I reached for the phone to call room service.
We beat the Chicago Ice and flew to Detroit for the last stop on our brutal roadie. Five games in six nights was no way to keep a team healthy. We’d been lucky to hold injuries to bruises, visor cuts, and a high stick in Edmonton requiring three stitches in Mason’s chin. Everyone was grumbling as we tromped down the tunnel to play the Huskies. They hadn’t had the best season, but they were always on fire to play against us.
The first period went as expected, heavy on chirping, cheap shots, and enough cross-checking to keep the refs busy. Early in the second, shit blew up. One of Detroit’s forwards leveled Dog as he was winding up for a shot, dropping him flat. Abby swooped in and drilled the Husky in the chest.
That should have been it, but one of Detroit’s D-men jumped Abby from the side and clocked him with a sucker punch. The crowd roared as Brody ditched his stick, grabbed the Husky blueliner’s jersey, and started swinging. Within seconds, every player on the ice was throwing punches except the goalies. It didn’t take long for the Huskies’ tender to skate out to center ice and start yelling at Gabe, who flipped him off. The guy pushed off, making a beeline for Gabe, but a linesman got to him in time to stop a goalie fight.
The refs handed out matching penalties, and everyone who’d fought landed in the sin bin. Criswell had no choice but tosend our line out for the resulting four-on-four. Holky won the faceoff, snapping the puck to me, and I charged toward the Huskies’ net. Their defense came in fast, so I fed a pass to Riley, who tapped it in for a 3–0 lead.
Near the end of the period, the first line was back on the ice. Dog got his revenge with a blistering slapper that lit the lamp. The payback was sweet, and our bench erupted in celebration. Even Criswell cracked a grin. We hit the second intermission up four-zip and rode our high into the third period. With both teams focused on play, we held onto our lead and closed the game with a 5–2 win.
Since we weren’t flying home until morning, Harpy decided we should go out. I would rather have gone back to the hotel and chilled with Riley, but before I could catch his eye, he’d already agreed to go.
He looked at me. “You’re in, right?”
So, I went. We bussed back to the hotel and walked to a bar we’d been to before. Since Riley and I were the last ones in, there were no chairs left beside each other. He ended up across the table, wedged between Blunt and Edwards, while I was sandwiched between Gabe and Mason. The place was so loud, there was no chance of talking to Riles.
It didn’t take long for a group of pro athletes in suits to draw attention. Women began orbiting, smiling and leaning in close, stopping long enough to be noticed. Blunt and Edwards lit up, and Riley followed their lead. He was all grin and sparkle as he bantered with the women, egged on by the other two as if they were back in junior hockey with something to prove.
I turned away. There was no way I could sit there like some aging wallflower while Riley held court as the straight boy king of the flirt parade. Gabe talked about a trip he and Brody were planning for the summer, and though I tried to listen, the wordsbarely registered. I nodded along and nursed my second beer, which fizzled uneasily in my stomach.
Eventually, Gabe turned to Harpy, and I made the mistake of looking back across the table. Fuck me. Blunt, Edwards, and Riley each had a girl on their lap. They were all laughing, and I couldn’t help seeing Riley’s girl twisting, apparently intent on delivering friction he wouldn’t be able to resist.
I was so bitter I could taste it. Since I had no fucking claim, it was pathetic. Only last night, we’d agreed to have no expectations. If anything happened between us, it wouldn’t mean more than what it was. So why did it feel like I was being gutted with a butter knife? I needed to take a leak, and when I got up, Riley didn’t even glance over.
While I was in the bathroom, I tried to get a grip. I hadn’t wanted to go out to begin with, and I wished I hadn’t. It was none of my business if Riley went back to the hotel with Blunt, Edwards, and all three girls. But if that was so, why was my jaw clenched so tight it made my head hurt?
When I made it back to the table, there was no girl on Riley’s lap. But another one was standing close, her fingers in his hair, leaning over and whispering in his ear.
I put a hand on Gabe’s shoulder. “I’m beat, so I’m heading out. See you tomorrow.”
Harpy leaned up so he could see around Gabe. “You sure? We won’t be here much longer.”
I couldn’t help glancing across the table again, and this time Riley looked up.
“I’m leaving,” I called over the music. “See you tomorrow.”
His eyes widened. “You’re going now?”
“Yeah. Have fun.” I turned to leave.
“Wait up, Logan!”
I stopped and looked back, surprised to see Riley hurrying around the table. As soon as he was beside me, he said, “I’m tired too. I’ll come with you.”
“You don’t have to. Looked like you were having a good time.”
He shook his head. “I was playing along, not enjoying myself.”
I nodded. “Suit yourself.”
