Page 81 of Puck Shots
My brothers and Rachel hug me on my way past them, and then I’m led by an usher up through the aisle towards the stage. Cameras flash, and people I don’t know call my name, drawing my attention for a moment here and there, but then I spot Luka standing a few rows down and jog to meet him at the side.
“You’ll be next, brother,” I say, and he grabs my hand and gives me our signature bro hug.
“You bet I will. Now get the hell up there already.”
I’m ushered along, up the stairs to where the team rep of the Boston Basilisk is waiting, jersey in hand to greet me.
“Welcome to the team,” he says, shaking my hand and passing me the black, white, and purple jersey. I pull it on, loving the way the thick fabric hugs my body. I look down at the intimidating logo of a basilisk biting down on a hockey puck on my chest, the sound of the crowd an incoherent hum in the background.
“Congrats, son,” the commissioner says, drawing my attention and handing me the cap with the same colors and logo on the front. I tilt my head back, the giant screen behind me lit up with an enormous jersey with my name and number on it.
“Thank you, sir,” I say, pulling the cap on and turning to wave to the crowd.
I stand there, taking in every second of this moment. I told everyone I’d make it here, that this is where I belonged and that this was my future. But until right now, this moment, standing here with it actually a reality in my life, I’m not sure I honestly believed it would happen. I catch Eli’s gaze in the crowd, his smile like a beacon in the night. He knew. He never doubted I’d get here. He never doubted me, but I also know that if I didn’tmake it, he’d still be there, in my corner, loving me for exactly who I am, with or without hockey.
But I did get here.
Holy fuck. I’m actually drafted to the NHL.
Epilogue
Cosmo
Two years later
“The game replay is starting,” Eli yells out just as I close our apartment door behind me. “Oh, and welcome home.”
I call it our place, even though Eli hasn’t officially moved in yet, but he spends at least three nights a week here instead of at the frat house, and I’m hoping the second he graduates, he’ll spend every night forever here with me.
“Thanks, I’ll just be one second,” I call back and kick off my shoes, leaving them in the pile that sits by the door. Luka bought me an organizer thing, but it’s full, so the floor is good enough. I’ll be putting those shoes on again tomorrow, anyway. I hadn’t seen Luka in weeks until today. He plays for Philly now, while I’m still contracted to Boston, and tonight we played our first game against each other. Fuck, it was weird not being able to shoot him the puck. We can still read each other’s moves pretty well, too, which meant he knew when to block me and I knewwhen he was going to take a shot. Our ability to read each other is probably why our coaches kept us on the ice at the same time. Though if he can just get traded back here, we can put that best friend’s intuition to better use playing together.
“Did you win? Is Luka okay?”
I jog up the narrow hallway, sliding the last three feet on my socks into the living room where Eli is sitting on our brown leather couch, nursing a bowl of popcorn in his lap.
“You haven’t seen the score yet?” I ask, and he responds with a headshake.
“I haven’t long gotten home myself. I still can’t believe I had to miss your home game. I swear once I graduate, I’ll be at every single one.”
“It’s okay, besides, this way I get to watch you watch me.”
“Did you invite Luka over?”
“He had to get back to Philly, but he said to say hi. How were classes and work?” I ask, plonking down beside him.
“Classes were full on, and it’s an internship, so not really work, but it was good. Also, your move,” he says, nodding to the ongoing chess game in the middle of our coffee table. It’s his set, though I have contributed to a few upgrades of the pieces, finding some really cool things on our walks together along the woods behind the frat house every night when I was still there.
I move my rook to F3 to defend against his attack, then lean back on the couch, throw my arm over his shoulder, and pull him in, kissing the top of his head as he snuggles in close. He’s been interning at Oskar Performance Labs in between his classes for the past year. It’s a high-tech facility that has him continuing his athletic analysis program to implement it in multiple sports. He retains the patent for it, but the company has invested in the development for a percentage of the future profits and some kind of non-exclusive license to use it while he’s interning attheir facility. I wasn’t so sure if he was getting a good deal or not, but he’s happy, and that’s what matters to me.
“Are you really not going to tell me if you won or not?”
“Nope,” I reply, grabbing a handful of popcorn and shoving it into my mouth, mumbling. “Can’t talk. Eating.”
“Well, you’re in pretty good mood, so I’d say you did alright.”
He laughs, shrugging my way, then turns back to the television. The puck is dropped, and the game is off to a pretty shitty start for me.
“Come on, Lewis, he was right there,” I yell.
