Page 117 of Wrong Pucking Jersey

“You don’t need to change yourself for another. He’s supposed to accept you as you are,” I huff in anger.

“I realize.” He turns to face me before patting my shoulders.

“I’m glad you and Maddox are back together, though.”

“Wait, really?” I’m surprised by that confession. “Why?”

“You probably don’t see it, but the way he looks at you… I don’t think he stopped loving you, Mikay. He probably tried during the time you two were apart, but even before he came on the ice to join his team on the first day, he stood in his spot for a long time, just admiring you.”

“Really?” I can barely speak, and my cheeks grow hot.

“Frozen in place, eyes all on you. I know we haven’t had much time to be around them with all the back-and-forth cancellations, but that man breathes for you. When you two are together, neither of you realizes how similar you guys act. You become in sync when together, to the point you guys breathe at the same time.”

“W-We do not!!”

“You do.” The way he grins makes me narrow my eyes.

“Pass the goods.” I need proof.

“Go on TikTok,” he encourages and winks at me. “Got a whole hashtag, MadMickey trending, when they caught a clip of you and Maddox standing on the side near the benches before a game. Literally breathing at the same time, moving your heads from left and right before you look at each other, smile, and look back to watch the staff set shit up on the rink. Got ten million views.”

I’m speechless as my jaw drops.

“You’re… fucking… lying.”

“Pucking,” he corrects.

“Wait.” I shake my head and lean into whisper. “Did Dimitri Maxwell Champion just wink at me?”

He rolls his eyes in return.

“Time to call Dr. Bridgett,” he hums in hopes of changing the subject.

“I like this side of you,” I voice. “It’s like you’re opening up more.”

“Only for you,” he admits. “It’s nice to have a friend to talk to without being judged.”

“I agree,” I sigh in relief. “I only had Mack for that, but we had to take a break because of school. We still kept in touch whenever we could, but still.”

“I get it.” He pulls out his phone and leans against the car once more. “I think you two will last this time.”

I’m staring at him as he types on his screen.

“You’re not going to let the wants you yearned for in the past be ignored and neglected in the present, right?”

When I don’t answer, I’m meeting his eyes with uncertainty.

“What if I’m scared?”

“It’s normal to be scared when you’re doing something that’s going to make you happy,” he answers with knowledgeable eyes. “Becoming nurses was scary, but we pushed through our fears and anxieties and did it. Getting this internship had to be a bit nerve-wracking, but we did it because we knew it would make us happy when we were team nurses helping our players who needed our aid. Deciding to be loved and to offer your heart to more than one is hard. It’s frightening because of the stigma our world lays upon our shoulders, but does the world’s opinions of us make us happy or sad?”

“Sad,” I whisper.

“When we give the world what is right and normal, we’re stagnant in self-hate. When we want to be ourselves, everyone criticizes us like we’re repulsive for loving ourselves. At the end of the day, you have to choose to suffer in silence around fake friends and compliant family members or be happy and be around those who want nothing but for you to be free and satisfied with life.” He reaches out to grasp my hand and squeeze it.

“In the end, when we stare upward and take our last breaths in this world, what do you want to feel? A bunch of regret for not being who you wished to be or filled with relief because you were loved and true to yourself?”

He’s right. I know he’s right.

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