Page 43

43

LANE

W e’re going to the fucking Frozen Four.

The win against Northeastern was a nailbiter, but the second round against Michigan was a blowout. They’re a great team, but they fell apart last night, and we secured a 4-0 win.

Only two games left. Two games left playing with the Brumehill Black Bears. Two games left in my career as a college hockey player, the thing that’s defined me for the last four years.

Two wins left to win the championship, the goal I’ve been obsessed with for four seasons. The thing we came so damn close to last year, before my broken leg sent it slipping through our fingers.

We have a week and a half until we head out to Minneapolis to play the two most important games of our entire lives up to now. Soon, we’ll all have to be razor-focused, dedicated to making sure we’re in top mental and physical shape, living and breathing strategy and preparation.

Soon, but not tonight.

Because on the bus ride home, Monday on the day after our win over Michigan, we got news that Brumehill is cancelling classes tomorrow due to an issue in one of the buildings.

So, since we weren’t allowed to properly celebrate our win Sunday night, we’re doing so now. Rhys, Tuck, Hudson, Sebastian, Carter, Jamie, and I are all out at Loser’s Luck Tavern, and we’re throwing back the drinks.

We know that we have to abstain after this; we also know that next time we’re drinking, we’ll either be celebrating the championship, or most of us will be mourning ending our college career without ever grasping it.

To commemorate the moment, we decided to just make this a guys’ night. Even the single guys among us are politely fending off any female attention from the girls at the bar. We’re just celebrating together, downing beers, and we’ve fallen into a round of reminiscing.

“Remember how we used to get into prank wars with UVM?” Carter asks.

“And Tuck got shoved into a trashcan?” Rhys continues.

Hudson quirks an eyebrow. “Uh, I don’t remember that.”

“This was before your time, Huddy,” Tuck proclaims, getting ready to tell the story with a triumphant air about him, as if a tale that ends with him being stuck in a trashcan makes him a great hero.

He begins, “One of the University of Vermont guys snuck over and drew a giant dick on Rhys’s motorcycle, so I wanted to get back at them. I ordered an actual full-body black bear costume, dressed up in it, and hid behind a tree near the team’s house in Burlington to jump out and scare them at night as they walked past. And I did. Got an incredible jump scare out of them. I mean, imagine, you’re walking down the street, and a fucking bear jumps out of nowhere and roars at you.”

“Yeah, except after about three seconds, they were able to tell the difference between a bear and a guy in a cheap bear suit,” I say with a laugh.

“First of all, the suit wasn’t cheap,” Tuck replies. “But yeah, when they realized it was just me in a costume, they chased after me, caught me, then stuffed me in a trash can. Because of the suit, I couldn’t even move to get myself out. It was at night, so it took two hours before someone passed me who I could sweet talk into giving me a hand.”

Hudson’s shaking his head, but there’s a rare smile twitching on his lips. “Somehow none of this surprises me.”

“Remember when Tuck had that crazy allergic reaction to Hudson’s cat?” Sebastian brings up, drawing another round of laughs as we remember his puffy, red face.

“Uh, can we reminisce about something that I’m not the butt of?” Tuck says.

“Remember when Hudson first transferred in and he was an asshole?” Rhys says, directing a sly grin at the grumpy goalie.

“Hmm, remember when Hudson was an asshole?” Tuck ponders, rubbing his chin. “Yeah, I can remember yesterday.”

Hudson holds up his middle finger at his improbable best friend, who just smiles.

Carter nods to Sebastian. “Remember when you had to fork over two hundred dollars for that bet we made?”

“What bet?” Jamie asks.

Sebastian gives Rhys a sidelong glance. “I bet Carter that Rhys and Maddie would get together before New Year’s last year, but this slow-moving doofus was too stupid to get his ass in gear and cost me.”

“You guys are making bets about my love life now?” Rhys asks.

“Yes, and it taught me a valuable lesson about giving people the benefit of the doubt when it comes to understanding their own hearts,” Sebastian barbs.

Jamie hoots a laugh. “Oh man, look who’s talking.”

Sebastian narrows his gaze at Jamie. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jamie just wiggles his eyebrows in response, the group of us sharing a knowing moment.

Sebastian takes a draw of his beer. “Remember the last time Jamie got laid?” He pauses a beat. “Oh, wait.”

Jamie rolls his eyes and directs his middle finger at Sebastian.

I’m definitely drunk. If I weren’t, this idea would never pop into my head.

But as a wistful feeling wraps through me, walking down memory lane with these guys who have become like family to me, and knowing that this is all going to end in just a week and a half, and that two months from now we’ll all be graduated and going our separate ways …

“We should get tattoos,” I blurt out.

The eyes of all the guys turn to me.

“Huh?” Carter asks.

“Yeah, we should all get a tattoo. Like, of a black bear. On our shoulders or something,” I say, feeling the tipsiness flood to my head.

I wouldn’t be surprised if my teammates dismiss my drunken idea, and maybe it would be best if they did, but …

Hudson pats his shoulder. “I’m sure I can find some space on here to fit one.”

Rhys says, “I’m always down for another.”

Not surprising from those two ink freaks, but then Sebastian chimes in, “Break my tattoo cherry? Fuck it. Why not? This team’s worth it.”

“Damn right,” Tuck echoes.

“I’m down,” Carter declares.

A shadow of doubt passes on Jamie’s expression—he hasn’t actually drunk tonight despite his fake ID, sticking to sodas as usual—but then he shakes his head and says, “What the hell? I’m in, too.”

Hopped up on adrenaline, alcohol, and comradery, we march to the local tattoo shop that probably makes its living on groups of college students getting spur-of-the-moment tattoos decided on over way too many drinks.

A little while later, we all have sore left shoulders as the Brumehill Black Bears logo is permanently inked on them.

Rhys and Hudson, tattoo veterans, are laughing at how the rest of us winced in the chair while the artists worked on us as we file out of the parlor.

Jamie, Carter, and Hudson go their separate ways back to their houses while the rest of us continue home. When we get there, instead of falling face-first into my bed, I knock gently on Scarlett’s door. It’s late, so I don’t want to wake her if she’s asleep.

I mean, I do want to. But I won’t.

“Yeah?” she says from behind the door. It doesn’t sound like I woke her up, either, so excitement laces through me. I step inside.

“Still up?” I ask, shutting the door behind me. My blood thickens seeing her in her bed.

“Yeah. I got caught up watching stupid videos online instead of going to sleep.” She closes her laptop and sets it on the table beside her bed. “Have a nice night out with the boys?”

I point to my shoulder. “We got tattoos.”

Her eyebrows shoot up, and I laugh while telling her the story. She laughs at me when I tell her how sore my shoulder still is.

“Well, if you come to bed, I promise to be gentle with you,” she says with a coy glimmer in her eyes.

She doesn’t exactly keep her promise, but I sure as hell don’t complain.