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Luke

C ampus is buzzing with life once again as the next semester begins. It’s been a rough week at practice getting the team adjusted to being back on a full schedule and the hard reality that their break is over. I don’t have high hopes for our game tonight with the shape our offense has been in, but maybe Jenna and Alice have some plan of attack they’re going to drop in this coaches’ meeting I’m heading to.

But first, I can’t help but find myself making a detour through the blustery wind toward the café to see Lennon, even if it’s just for a few minutes.

She spent more time at my apartment over winter break than she did at her own. I never thought I’d find snoring endearing, but I miss hearing it throughout the night from her side of the bed.

However, once Grace came back last weekend, she’s been back at her apartment, and I haven’t seen her except for at practice. A week without her all to myself and it already feels like I’m going through withdrawals. It’s not just the sex, either. I actually enjoy her company. She’s easy to open up to, and we’ve talked about everything from our childhoods, to our families, to movies, and of course, lots of hockey. We’ve been having fun making little bets on games and keeping a tally of who picks right more often.

The answer is me, of course.

I know it’s wrong, so fucking wrong, but it doesn’t feel like it. It feels like the first right thing I’ve had in my life since the incident, and as reckless as it is, I’m trying to hold on to that feeling she’s giving me with everything I have.

The hustle and bustle of campus dies down as I step into the library. With the semester just kicking off, not many students are in need of a quiet study space here just yet. The café is also relatively slow, but even if there was a crowd of people, they’d all fade into the background the moment I spot Lennon. She’s talking animatedly with her co-worker, and the two laugh louder than they probably should for being located in a designated quiet building.

But the sound tempers the chaffing our distance this week has created, and I stroll up to the counter with my hands tucked deep into my coat pockets. Her co-worker spies me first and turns toward the register. “What can I get started for you?”

Lennon busies herself wiping down one of the machines and is seemingly oblivious to my presence until I say, “I’ll have a medium black coffee, please.”

At the sound of my voice, her head jerks up, sending her ponytail over her shoulder. I suppress a smile at the surprise on her face and the immediate blush that blooms on her cheeks.

“L—Coach, hey,” she says, catching herself from almost calling me by my name. I quickly glance at her co-worker to see if she clocked the almost slip-up as Lennon steps toward the register. “What are you doing here?”

“Just grabbing a coffee before the coaches’ meeting before the game tonight.”

“That should be interesting.”

“You worried?” I hand over my card, and her co-worker swipes it before going to get my drink.

“Aren’t you?” Lennon cocks a hip against the counter. Her tan apron brings out the brown flecks in her eyes. “The first game back after winter break is always a rough one.”

“You can’t have a losing attitude heading into it. Every game matters as we get closer to the tournament.”

She holds her hands up. “I know. I’m just worried about the second line. Jordyn is, too.”

“Let that line worry about themselves. Focus on your own game.”

She leans forward, planting her hands on the counter. “You’re right, I know. My focus has just been a little…shaken the last few weeks.” She smirks at me, and the side of me that is just Luke with her is pleased to hear that, but the side of me that’s her coach hates it.

Her co-worker returns with my drink, and I thank her. She looks between the two of us, and Lennon says, “Krista, this is my coach. Coach, this is my boss, Krista. You both get the pleasure of always telling me what to do.”

Krista bats her arm playfully. “As if I ever lord my title over you.” She then turns her attention to me. “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard plenty about you.”

An alarm triggers in the back of my mind, and I dart my eyes to Lennon. We talked about how we’re not telling anyone about us. There’s no way she broke that already, right?

Lennon senses my panic and is quick to butt in. “I like to lament about your hyperfixation on pull-ups and step-ups. She listens to me complain.”

Crisis averted, but it doesn’t stop the itchiness under my skin. I’m now sitting here overthinking every single look Lennon has given me since I walked in here. The way she’s standing with her body leaned toward me, the soft look in her eye as we talk, the way I probably look the same back to her.

We’ve been keeping a respectable distance in practice, but for some reason in this different setting, it feels more dangerous. Lines feel more blurred because our title of coach and athlete aren’t as prevalent. Lennon was talking about her focus slipping, but maybe I’m the one who needs to watch out for that myself.

I twist the sleeve protector around the warm coffee cup and back up a few steps. “Well, I’ll let you gripe about me in private.”

Lennon’s face falls at my quick exit, but she recovers quickly. “See you at the game.”

I raise my coffee in response and tuck my jacket in tight as I step back outside. The wind is a cold slap in the face, but maybe it’s just what I needed.

The meeting with Alice and Jenna is a good distraction as we prep for the game tonight. Lennon is right; the second line has been sloppy and lacking communication since we came back from break. All week they’ve been trying to get on the same page, but it’s like they’re all in completely different books.

Alice makes the decision to bump Jordyn down from the first line to the second, hoping her steadiness will bring cohesion to the second. It’s a risk to do it without giving them time in practice to test it out, but it’s worth a shot. The team is definitely in play-off contention, but every point matters.

After the meeting breaks, I still have a few hours to kill before the team will start arriving for warm-ups. I head to my office and kill the overhead lighting that’s giving me a headache. I slump back in my chair and let out a long breath. There’s probably enough time for a quick nap if I wanted to.

But that’s cut off as my phone rattles against my desk, and I see my old teammate is calling me.

“Hey, Decker,” I answer the phone. “Two phone calls in one year. I didn’t realize you missed me that much.”

“There’s that cocky bastard attitude I’ve missed!” He barks out a laugh loud enough that I briefly pull the phone away from my ear. “And technically, it’s a new year so we’re only at one call so far.”

“Fair enough,” I chuckle.

“Hey, listen I gotta make this quick because Tash and I are getting dinner with her parents in a few, but I wanted to give you a few more details about the engagement party. Season is looking like shit, I don’t know if you’ve seen.”

I cringe. “Yeah, sorry about that, man.”

“It is what it is this year. But with that, playoffs are looking like a pipe dream, so we’re going to move forward with planning the party at the end of May.”

“And if you guys suddenly turn the season around and make it?”

“Then Tash will have my balls, and it’ll be the greatest comeback story in history.” He snorts. “But since I doubt that’s gonna happen, keep your calendar blocked the last weekend of May, alright? And she’s looking to get a headcount, so I wanted to double check and see if you still didn’t need a plus one?”

I rub my forehead and stare up at the ceiling. My immediate response is to say no, I actually would like a plus one. I like the idea of taking Lennon to New York City and showing her all my old favorite spots and braving seeing my old teammates with her by my side.

But it’s not that simple. And it never will be with her. Not while we’re just starting to navigate this new phase we’re in. Keeping everything a secret from everyone because if it came out, both our lives would implode. But is there ever going to be a time when we could be together freely? Even once she graduates, could we actually make a go of this?

Jesus Christ. Now, the pounding in my head has nothing to do with the lighting and everything to do with the mess I’ve gotten myself into.

“Ah, I don’t know about that right now,” I hedge. “Can you give me a bit of time to think about that? When do you need the headcount?”

“No shit,” Decker says. “You’re seeing someone?”

“It’s complicated.”

He whistles on the other end of the line. “Alright, man. I’m gonna need to be filled in on that, but really gotta run to dinner. Try to let me know in the next month or so, okay?”

“Sure thing, man. Have a good dinner with the in-laws.”

We hang up and I sit in silence, all of the things I’ve pushed to the side while enjoying winter break with Lennon flooding to the surface.

I wish I had something stronger than coffee right now.

For being a home game, the arena is fairly empty compared to other games this season. Maybe it’ll be a good thing for the team to be able to ease back into the swing of things without the added pressure of a huge student section tonight.

The team skates around the ice, our powder-blue home jerseys coming alive under the rink lights. Lennon finishes carving up the crease and glides over the bench to grab her water bottle. She pauses when she sees me standing at the end of it and meanders over.

“Did you enjoy your coffee this morning?” She leans against the board and pops her mask on top of her head.

“It was black coffee,” I answer and scan the rink.

“I didn’t expect to see you there. You should stop by more often.”

I don’t respond and instead continue looking anywhere but at her. Alice talks with one of the refs, and Grace stretches out at center ice.

Not catching on, Lennon says, “Krista thought you were hot. She couldn’t believe that you’re who I get to spend all my time with.” She laughs lightly. “She made a joke about us doing a different kind of workout than the ones I complain to her about, but don’t worry, I shot that down.”

“Good. As you should.”

Lennon shifts in my periphery. “Is everything alright?”

“Fine.”

“Clearly not because you won’t even look at me.”

The ref blows his whistle and calls the two captains forward. The rest of the team finishes up their warm-ups, and it’s only a matter of moments before they flood the bench.

“Get in the goal, Kilcrease,” I tell her. “It’s game time.”

“Not until you just tell me what’s wrong,” she demands but does slide her mask back in place.

I finally meet her eye. “You’re not the one who gets to give orders here. I am your coach, and in this space, don’t talk to me like I’m anything more.” Hurt flashes behind her mask, but I can’t allow space for that to dig into my chest right now. “Focus on the game. If you can’t do that, if you can’t separate personal matters from the sport, then I’ll put Miller in the goal right now. What’s your choice?”

If looks could kill I would be bleeding out all over this bench right now. A mix of anger and hurt swirl in her eyes and pull the corners of her full lips down as she snatches her water bottle from the boards and skates to the crease. But I need to get it through her head that on the ice, it’s never going to be the place for us to talk about anything other than hockey.

As the game kicks off, Lennon seems to be fueled by her emotions, and even if it hurt me to speak like that to her in the moment, it’s paying off. She moves around the crease sharply, each movement purposeful and with deadly precision. She knocks away a shot with her stick, sending it flying into the boards to the left. It ricochets loudly, and I don’t know if anyone else can tell, but I can practically feel her anger radiating off of her. All of it directed toward me, but it’s honing her into the game.

If she needs to be pissed off at me in order to focus, then I’ll take it. I can’t be a distraction to her end goal.

Toward the end of the first period, Aubrey takes a penalty for cross-checking. Alice seethes quietly beside me as she goes into the penalty box. Aubrey has a hard time keeping her temper in check and easily gets baited into trash talking. UPU knows this and clearly used it to their advantage.

They end up scoring on the power play, and Lennon slams her stick against the ice after the fact. She skates the line of the crease back and forth, head down, shaking it slightly as UPU celebrates.

The buzzer sounds, and when the team files to the locker room, I hang back to catch Lennon and gauge where her head is after it. But the moment she steps off the ice and our eyes meet, I know talking to me is the last thing she needs right now.

So I just say, “Shake it off. You couldn’t have stopped it.” I don’t think I even would’ve been able to at my prime. When the puck gets redirected in the air that close to the goal, it’s nearly impossible.

Lennon nods her head once and continues past me. I give her space and let Alice do the talking back in the locker room.

We score twice in the second period, and Lennon holds UPU to only their one goal for the rest of the game, bringing home a win for us. The lines still need some work with Alice’s adjustments, but I’ll take the win. Anything to get us closer to the playoffs.

Thank god it was a home game tonight, and I have a quick drive back to my apartment. My arms are heavy with exhaustion as I shower, but I know I won’t be able to sleep without talking to Lennon. It would’ve been hypocritical of me to have told her to keep our personal business off the ice and then approach her after the game. So as soon as I collapse into bed, I pull out my phone and text her.

Me: You played well tonight

It takes her a few minutes to respond.

32: thanks

Me: I know you’re pissed at me but I also know you know I’m right. When we’re at the rink I can’t be anything more than your coach

32: You didn’t have to be a dick about it

Me: I thought you liked that about me

32: …

Me: Look I’m sorry. I could’ve delivered the message nicer

32: You could’ve

32: But I get it. And you’re right. It’s just hard to adjust how I feel about you outside of hockey with how I’m allowed to feel about you inside of hockey

Me: It’s not easy for me either

32: Do you still want this?

I shouldn’t. I really fucking shouldn’t. But yet…

Me: Yes. Do you?

32: Yes. I promise I won’t talk to you about anything personal again while at practice or a game. Keep it strictly professional

Me: I don’t think we’ve ever been professional. If we were, you wouldn’t be back talking me all the time

32: Well that’s on you for being a jackass and not knowing how to conduct yourself half the time

Me: I’m very professional

32: If that’s what helps you sleep at night

Me: Well it sure isn’t listening to your snoring that’s for damn sure

32: Don’t use that against me!!! I can’t help it it’s genetic

Me: Excuses excuses…get some sleep. You earned it. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon at practice

32: Sleep good

Me: You too