Page 46 of Riding Pine
“Good job, Piney. I think they believe in you,” he whispers.
“Good. I hate this part. The waiting between periods or before a game is too much time to get in my head, you know?”
“Yeah, I know. Sometimes it gets to me, too. That’s why I like to read.”
Turning my head to him, he holds up a paperback. “Sarah made the cover for me. The first time I brought a book into the locker room, I was teased for days. This way I can cover up what’s on the front if it’s…too revealing.”
He peels off the plain black leather covering the paperback to reveal an image of a man in hockey gear kissing a woman.
“You’re reading romance?”
“Yeah. I like it. She gives me all these sports romances to read, and it’s refreshing to read about hockey players who aren’t toxic assholes.” He shrugs. "The sex scenes don't hurt either."
Burnsy returns his attention to the book in hand with the fake cover he slips over it. Honestly, I’m impressed he can read in this environment, but I hate that he has to hide what he’s reading. With some of the intimate details shared in locker rooms, I’d think a romance novel would be a solid manual for some of these men on how to treat their partners better.
“I’m going to check on the bench,” I say, standing.
“Is it going somewhere?”
“Haha. I just…I’ll be back.”
Without another word, I exit and walk the rubber walkway to the team bench. The Zamboni is just finishing the resurfacing, and there are more people in the seats, an excited thrum in the air.
Then I see him.
Slappy, aka Ben, is working the crowd across the rink and playing with a few kids. A smile forms on my lips without thought as I watch him slap his tail around with the children. The adults laugh, and he looks like he’s comfortable. Like he’s made to entertain, just like he said.
Ben had nerves before he left this afternoon for lunch with his friend James and because we couldn’t show up at the rink together. I want this to go smoothly for him, just like I want us to win. Lingering for longer than I should, I watch him a little longer before walking back down the hallway to the dressing room.
When I enter the room, everyone is on their feet, ready to get to the ice and play. They’re just waiting for their cue.
After slapping my helmet on, I glance at my teammates. Everyone stills, except for the few who have to fidget while in their zone. “Let’s kick some ass!” I shout.
We march down the tunnel and, once spotted, the voice of the rink takes over.
“Please welcome your Bloomburg Aspens!” The lights dim, and our team’s music sounds as we all step onto the ice. A spotlight highlights us as we skate laps, and the crowd cheers. It’s louder than I expected, but I won’t allow myself to scan the crowd just yet.
Since it’s the home opener, we all stand at the blue line in order of our numbers, and they introduce us. I’m the exception, though, along with my two assistant captains. We’re announced last, and when it’s my turn, my skin breaks out with little goosebumps.
“Your captain for the season, wearing number thirty-three in your programs but number one in your hearts,Lukkkkaaasss Piiiiinnnne!” The announcer draws out my name, and I skate forward with a wave to the crowd. My gaze catches on the little girl from our signing at the mall, and I give her an extra wave before standing back in my space.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please rise if you are able for the national anthems.”
One of my favourite parts of the pregame is standing in the quiet song of national anthems. Playing hockey is something I never take for granted. I may not be a big-league pro, but I’m only a step away, and it sure beats sitting at a desk every day.
After the anthem, they don’t immediately remove the carpet and instead coach points for me to skate over.
“Hi, Lukas.” The man who runs the game off the ice motions towards the carpet. “We’re doing a special puck drop with the mascot tonight.”
I’m aware of Ben’s presence and smell the soap he uses before I see him. It’s a distinct smell, like honey and lilacs, and when hesteps on the carpet, the announcer introduces him to a chorus of cheers and laughter.
When he reaches me and the opposing captain, he shakes the visitor’s hand and pretends to eat his stick, which gets him some laughs, and I’m one of those laughing. He turns to me and shakes my hand in the most formal way. He then turns his tail my way, and we do a high-five with it, this time with me not smacking his ass.
Slappy drops the puck, and I scoop it up and shake the other captain’s hand before he skates off.
“You’re a natural, Slappy. Great job earlier.”
I speak low and don’t want him to say anything, but softly I hear, “Thanks, Lukas. Kick ass tonight. I’m watching.”
