Page 75 of Puck Shots
“Let Luka get his own boyfriend to make him origami,” I whine.
“I’ll just make him one you’ve already got later then,” he says, adding them both to the collection on the top shelf of my desk beside the crocheted Wooble snail Ferris made me. It’s even got a little lightning bolt stitched in his shell. He made one for Eli and the other new brothers in the house, too. Eli’s is an owl, because he’s smart, and he sewed on black stitching to look like it’s wearing round glasses just like his, too. I am constantly blown away by how creative some of the guys in the house are. I can’t even draw a stick figure properly. I am super happy though that now that I don’t have to hide that I’m collecting all his bottle label origami creations, I can have them on full display.
“Aww, they look good. Soon I’ll have enough for a full zoo,” I say, and he blushes slightly at the compliment. “Are you coming to watch me train tonight?”
“Sorry, I have to study. But we can watch a game or something when you get home. I should be done by then.”
“You want to watch a game?”
“Not really. But I love cuddling with you on the couch while you scream at the television like they’re actually tiny people inside the thing that can hear you.”
“What can I say, I’m a passionate guy.”
“And I wouldn’t want you any other way.”
“Good to know. See you tonight.”
“See you.”
***
“I’m dying. I might actually already be dead,” I wheeze next to Luka, who has his head between his knees, gasping for breath beside me against the wall of the ice rink.
“He’s trying to kill us. Why is he trying to kill us?”
The coach blows his whistle from center ice.
“Come on, break over, ten more. You need to be able to skate a full sixty at one hundred percent. You want to be the NCAA National Champion’s, don’t you? You want this to be your year, don’t you?”
I take a gulp of water, loving the slight relief it offers.
“You want us to actually be alive on Saturday, don’t you?” I mutter under my breath, though I suspect the coach has better hearing than I think given the side eye he’s throwing me right now.
I get the push for us to be our best. We’ve been playing amazingly this year; and we won our semifinal and are now prepping for the big one. The championship game. I’m trying not to be in my head about it, and I guess with my attention on trying not to throw up on the ice, Coach’s tactics might not be so crazy after all.
Luka grabs my arm and pulls himself up.
“Come on, the longer we make him wait, the more laps he’ll make us do.”
“Urgh, what’s the bet he’s waiting for one of us to puke?”
“Wait two minutes, you’ll find out.”
We shove off, rejoin the rest of the team skating laps around the rink like we’re in training to be speed skaters not hockey players. We’re also in full gear, so I stink now, dripping with sweat, on top of wanting to hurl. On the plus side, if I go home stinky, Eli can help make me all clean again. Except then we’ll use up all our date time in the shower, when he’s just offered to watch a game with me, despite him really not being all that into the sport, except for when I’m playing. He’s managed tofind a way to be at every home game this year, and when I’ve been playing the away games, I’ve been drawing on a matching lightning bolt for him to have a piece of me with him while I’m away. It’s corny but it’s us.
“Hit the showers, boys. Good hustle. Let’s bring the same determination to the finals on Saturday and we’ll whip those Sabers,” Coach calls, and just as we head towards the exit, Chang doubles over and hurls right over the center ice face-off circle.
Glad I’m not the one cleaning that up. I wonder how fast the barf freezes on ice. Will they have to scrape it off or chip it up with an ice pick?
***
Eli’s chest rises and falls in a slow rhythm as he sleeps against my side on the main living room couch. He fell asleep about ten minutes ago, and while I know he’ll be more comfortable in his bed, I like the feel of him cuddled at my side. I turn down the television so that the noise doesn’t wake him, and as hard as it was when Telemanski scored not to cheer and scream at the television, I kept my reaction to a raised fist in the air and a silent scream of joy.
My phone buzzes beside me, and I reach over to check the messages. It’s just a check in from Pedro.
PEDRO:
Just want you all to know, retirement is great. Totally not bored at all.
