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“Well, that explains it. I’m about 90 percent sure that woman probably flicks her shit thinkin’ about your abs. You knew what you were doing.”
“Maybe a little.” He skated over to the bench and dumped a bucket of pucks onto the ice.
“You guys still not talking?”
He snatched a puck and dragged it back and forth on the ice in front of him. “We haven’t really, just small talk. But I avoid that too, if I can. I’ve been…I’ve been doing some writing, actually.”
“Yeah?” Hayes stole the puck from Ryan and took off with it, running the first drill. He waited for Ryan to skate in a circle, then moved the puck out to the face-off dot, and transitioned backward while maintaining control. He passed it to Ryan, who took crossovers to the blue line, inside to outside, working his lateral movement, and then cranked it at the net.
“Not bad, but try to keep your feet movin’. You hesitated. You gotta speed up, fast as you can. Push past your comfort zone. Let’s go again.”
They ran it two more times and skated over to the bench for some water. “So, what’ve you been writing about? I didn’t even know you could write.”
Ryan squirted him in the face with his bottle. “Dick.”
“You’ve been writing about dick? Is it one of those smutty hockey romances? Some of that shit’s actually pretty good.”
“I don’t even wanna know why you know that. Nah. Just…my thoughts, getting everything down that I’m thinking. How I’m feeling, what’s been triggering my panic attacks. It’s…my therapist recommended it, and it’s kinda, what’s the word? Cathesis? Carthetic?”
Hayes stared at him blankly. “I look like a fuckin’ dictionary to you? So, a therapist, huh?”
“Yeah, she’s…I meet with her twice a week, all online. I’m learning a lot about myself. I’m mostly doing it for my anxiety, but we talk a lot about the sex stuff, too.”
“Oh, you mean how you’ll fuck literally anything that isn’t nailed to the floor?”
“And some things that are, if the mood strikes just right.”
“There’s my Rook!” Hayes hugged him. “I like hearin’ you joke around again, man. So, what’s she have to say about it?”
“It’s a direct result of my anxiety. I can’t control that, I couldn’t control my dad’s death, but sex and how I react to it is something I can control. The fact that I write girls off after I fuck ‘em is me trying to get control of something because I feel like I don’t have control over anything else in my life.”
“Well, that’s fuckin’ depressing, eh? Hey, at least it’s not just because you’re a filthy piece of street trash.”
“Yeah, at least. She also suggested I apologize to as many of them as I can. Not sure where I’d even start. I mean, we’re talking hundreds, and way too many that I don’t even remember.”
“Hundreds? I’m sorry, did you say hundreds?”
“Hookups included? I’m in the fives, no doubt.”
“Oh, Rook. You really are a disgusting whore.”
“I know. It’s not something I’m proud of. I’m working on it.”
“Rook. Hundreds?”
“Why? Is it that bad? What’s your body count?”
“Let me think.” Hayes paused for a minute. “I think I’m at 43.”
“Get the fuck outta here!”
“Or it’s…44, now.”
“Yeah. Let’s not talk about that one,” Ryan skated away, and Hayes followed him. Ryan flipped around backward with the puck as Hayes tried to steal it.
“I think you should talk to her, Rook.”
“Why? There’s nothing to say.”
