Page 15 of O Goalie Night
Foster: Only thirty-two? I need to restock.
Beth: You’re weird
Foster: Thanks
I close my eyes and start the pregame breathing exercises I do before every game.
The phone buzzes again, but I don’t check it immediately. When the second text comes in, I give in and reach for it.
Beth: omg I just used it and it’s amazing
Beth: It’s like washing your hands in a pina colada!
Foster: Told you so
I set the phone aside again, grinning. Having a roommate isn’t half-bad.
My ears are still ringingfrom the sound of outraged Panthers fans on my ride to the airport late that night. We stomped the home team three to nil, ending the losing streak in the most satisfying way.
I close my eyes, wanting nothing more than quiet as I decompress from the game, but I’m far from alone on a bus full of guys, unfortunately.
“Dude,” Ben says from his seat beside me.
“What?” My eyelids remain closed.
“Did you see Valentina’s Instagram?”
I’m not on Instagram or any other social media platform for that matter. He knows this.
When I don’t reply, he nudges me and I begrudgingly turn my head and look at him. On his phone is a post of who I have to assume is his girlfriend. Only her eyes and the top of her head are visible, the rest of her is obscured by a massive bouquet of red roses.
“She used the hashtags ‘best boyfriend ever,’ ‘keeper,’ and ‘couple goals.’ Am I nailing this relationship or what?”
“That’s great,” I say without feeling and Ben’s eyes flash to mine.
“What?”
“Nothing, man. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy if you’re happy. I just have never seen you with the same girl twice. Seems kind of sudden is all.”
A muscle in his jaw ticks before his lopsided grin returns. “I’m just ready to settle down, is all, and when you know, you know.”
“That’s great,” I say again, with more conviction this time. “Tell me about her.”
His brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
I thought the question was self-explanatory, but I elaborate further. “I mean, what’s she like? Funny? Smart? Sweet?” Why am I spoon-feeding him personality characteristics?
“Ohh. I gotcha. She’s smart, I guess. Really cultured and career focused. And, like, so hot, obviously.” He doesn’t continue.
Right.
“Cool,” is all I can think to say, but it seems to work because he happily goes back to his phone.
It’s not like I was expecting him to come up with a sonnet on why she’s the one, but I was expecting more of an endorsement for the woman he’s claimed he’ll marry.
As someone who’s spent most of their life solely focused on hockey, marriage is something I’ve never given much thought to. I’m not opposed to having a family, I just have a hard time imagining myself with one. Most of the women I’ve met since signing with the Otters seem more interested in my bank account than in actually getting to know me.
I check my own phone and see I have a new text from Beth.
