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Inside the bathroom, Alec washes his hands for at least a solid two minutes, using more soap that I used this morning in my shower.
“What did you want to talk about?” I ask, assuming it’s either one of two things: some kind of warning about hockey or some kind of warning about Parker. Maybe both.
Alec tears off a piece of paper towel, then glances up at me with a smile. “Oh. You know what? I forgot. But while I’ve got you here, I did want to say I’m glad you came out tonight.”
Surprisingly, I am too. “Yeah,” I say, not sure what else to say.
“Hate to tell you, but you can’t be the resident one-word-answer guy. We’ve got one of those.”
“Nathan?”
“Yep. And Felix is a close runner up,” Alec says. “This is his first time out with us.”
“Really? Huh.”
“I think he’s got some kind of mystery girlfriend. We’ve never seen her, but he’s always talking about someone named Ivy. Anyway. Good to have you.”
I’m thinking about his words and his welcome. Alec, of all the guys on the team, is least likable, only because he’s very into Alec. That said, he’s surprisingly ego-less on the ice, which I can respect.
I sensed he was genuine when he said he’s glad I came out. And I’m still getting over my surprise that I’m glad too.
I’m so distracted that I miss Alec giving me the slip in the crowd. Only when I get back to the table do I realize that the guys have all gone—and left me with their bill.
* * *
I think that’s the end of it. The guys pretended not to give me a hard time about Parker, then stuck me with the bill. Not a big deal.
They’re normal in the locker room before practice. Joking, laughter, insults—nothing out of the ordinary. It lulls me into a false sense of safety.
But it all stops the moment we hit the ice.
“Watch it, Barnes.” The warning comes right before I’m slammed into the wall.
Which happens in practice. But it shouldn’t happen again ten seconds later. And then again a third time.
The guys are hitting me hard in a drill that’s no contact. Repeatedly. No smiles. No trash talk. Just narrowed, serious eyes and dirty hits.
When I’m not being knocked around, people are clipping my skates or slashing me with their sticks.
This isn’t just about me being the new guy or they would have been doing this my first few practices. Nope—I know exactly what this is about. And her name is Parker.
Too bad they don’t understand the situation, I think as Alec slams me into the wall, grinning as I wheeze out anoomph. I’d like to knock one of those perfect teeth out of his Disney prince smile.
They could have said something last night at the bar. I honestly expected them to interrogate me. But when I got back to the table after talking to Parker, nothing.
I did think it was a little odd, considering how protective I’ve seen them all act around her. Since I didn’t exactly want to explain about our date—Non-date? Fake date?—I happily let it go and thought nothing of it.
Clearly, I underestimated them. Their silence was more like the ocean pulling back before a tsunami wave.
“It’s not … what you think,” I grunt when Nathan and Eli come at me from opposite sides at the same time.
But they’re gone before I can say more. Then it’s Dumbo, followed by Tucker. No one’s really trying to injure me, but they’re definitely making it impossible for me to be effective on the ice.
Coach Davis barks at us to stop messing around, but he doesn’t actually do anything about it. Or seem to care. I even caught him smiling once before he schooled his features into a frown and pretended to look at his clipboard.
Doesheknow?
Truth be told, I knew I should say no to Parker. Saying yes even to get less screen time in videos is a bad idea. I have good reason not to muddy things between us with any kind of date, however platonic or fake she means it to be. Lots of good reasons actually.
