Page 40 of Date With Skates

Me: Thanks. Now I’m warm.

I send it and open up social media to scroll. Nico is everywhere, of course. Photos and videos of his performance. Him holding the gold medal. The interviews. There’s even a few of him and I, and some with him and his team.

I’m happy for him, but also maybe a little jealous. And not just about the attention, but the fact that he is someone. He’s doing something with his life.

A text comes in from Connor, so I close out of the app to check the text.

Hockey Boy: Looks good on you.

Me: Does that mean I can keep it forever?

Hockey Boy: It’ll cost you.

I bite my lip and smile as I decide how to respond back.

Me: Cost me what?

Hockey Boy: Whatever you think it’s worth.

I inhale deeply, my eyes falling closed. I hug myself a little tighter. The inside is so warm, and the material is soft, not only because of what it’s made of, but because it’s well-used. This is something that Connor uses all the time—something he might miss.

Me: Something sexual doesn’t seem fitting.

Hockey Boy: No? How come?

Me: This means something to you, and sex is…

Me: Superficial.

I stare at the screen, waiting for a response to come in.

Hockey Boy: It’s the sweatshirt I bought my first year on the Diamonds.

Wow. I had a feeling it was special, but I didn’t think it was that special. There is no way I can keep this.

Me: Nothing I can give you will equal that. You should take it back.

I send the text even though I don’t want to give it back. I love it already. It’s comfortable, and I can imagine myself sleeping in this every night. Even in the summer. I’ll just set the air conditioner colder.

Hockey Boy: I want you to have it.

Me: Why?

I don’t understand why he wants me to have something that means so much to him. He doesn’t even know me.

Hockey Boy: Maybe it’ll remind you of me.

Hockey Boy: And maybe it’ll eventually mean as much to you too…

“Mon Dieu…”

What am I supposed to say to that? He’s giving it to me because he wants me to have something to remember him by.

No, not just remember him by, but torture me with.

Because he’s right. I will remember him every single time I see this, put it on, touch it. This will never not remind me of him and our time together.

Normally, I’d throw it in the trash. But I only hold it tighter.