Page 71 of Burner Account

Tanner

For each teamin the playoffs, a series ended in one of two ways. The best-case scenario was, of course, a win. All the tension and stress and fighting for every goal culminated in the indescribable elation of victory. Sometimes it was a slow build in the final game—a strong lead, held for long minutes until it finally became clear the other team wasn’t going to make a comeback. More often than not, it seemed, it came down to a split-second transition between“oh shit, oh shit, oh shit”and“holy fuck, we won!”Sudden death overtime, gotta love it—there was no high in the universe like winning an elimination game in OT.

The flipside of that, of course, was that the losing team either steadily watched their hope of victory dim as time wound down, or they wound up in OT. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit”followed immediately by“…well, fuck.”

We were on top of the world when we knocked New York out of the first round in double overtime.

And a week and a half later, we filed off the ice and the bench in somber silence while Detroit celebrated their advancement to the Eastern Conference championship.

I’m not too proud to say there were tears. Always were after a loss like that. It sucked, working that hard for months and getting that far, only to have a single OT goal cut the whole season short.

Later that night, we boarded our charter jet to head back to Pittsburgh. The whole plane was silent, as if we were already in the air with half the team sound asleep. We were all still awake for the moment. Just… bummed out.

After we were in the air, I took my phone out of airplane mode and logged into the WiFi. I was about to go through the usual motions of checking email and social media—and maybe getting spicy on my burner account just for grins—but first things first, I had a bunch of texts.

I groaned quietly enough it wouldn’t carry over the noise of the aircraft. I didn’t even have to look to know I had messages from my parents, siblings, grandparents, friends, acquaintances, old teammates, and anyone else who’d been watching. I was exhausted just thinking about slogging through and responding to all of them. People meant well, and I loved them. I just wasn’t in the right state of mind for a pep talk, an insistence that we were robbed, or reassurance there was always next year.

Can’t I just mope in peace for a while?

When I opened the text app, though, my eyes went right to one of the many names on the list: Isaiah.

I tapped his name, and the message came up:

Isaiah:Is it bad that I’m sad you guys lost, but looking forward to seeing you more?

I laughed almost soundlessly,which felt so fucking good after the evening’s funk.

Tanner:No, it’s not. I’m looking forward to it too.

I hesitated,then sent a second text.

Tanner:Bummed AF about losing, but seeing you again is a hell of a silver lining.

My face heatedas the message sent. It got even hotter whenReadappeared under the text. Was it too much? Too sappy? God, I was so bad at this.

Isaiah:Well,I’m pretty sure I can distract you if nothing else.(grinning devil emoji)

Tanner:Ooh, I like the sound of that. Just let me shave off this damn beard first.

Isaiah:What? But you look sexy with a beard.

Tanner:I barely have one.

I absently scratched at it;my teammates thought it was hilarious that I couldn’t grow much of one. Not even during the playoffs.

Tanner:It would look much better if it actually came in completely. Blech.

Isaiah:LOL Nah, you’re cute with a beard. But I won’t bitch if you shave it.

Tanner:So you do hate it?

Isaiah:No. I just LOVE how you look cleanshaven. (heart eyes emoji)

I squirmed in my seat,smiling so much my face hurt.

Tanner:I’ll definitely shave, then.

Another message came through,but it wasn’t Isaiah this time. It was Bens, and it was sent to the team’s group chat.

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