Page 60 of Penalty Shot

“Feral? Exaggerate much?”

“Fans are throwing themselves at the players’ cars as they try to drive away. I reserve the term for those willing to get run over for an autograph.”

“It’s not the players’ fault if they’re the focus of unwanted attention. You should feel sorry for them, not call them bastards.”

“You’re not seeing what I’m seeing.”

Something about her tone of voice dips in a way I’ve come to recognize as reluctance.

“You’re right, it’s stupid. I can’t wait to see you next week!” The chirpiness sounds forced, but I let it go. We say our goodbyes.

I check my phone to confirm that there’s no text from Randall. That’s not unusual. However, hearing Lily talk about the team piqued my interest. A weird desire to see Randall after his victory takes over me.

I do what I’ve never done before: search for Mavericks tags on Insta.

There are adorable pictures of the team celebrating on the ice and one particularly heartwarming post of them smiling with kids wearing Mavericks shirts and holding banners.

There are the reels Lily was talking about: cars weaving their way through a crowd of fans screaming player names. A few guys roll their windows down for a picture or autograph. None of these posts feature Randall.

I remember the hashtag Lily found when I first met the goaltender at the bar. #RandallHaughland reveals a wealth of posts, updates, and fan pages dedicated to him. There’s a recent reel that makes me pause.

It’s a video of him from inside his car, taken by the passenger. I recognize Randall’s manly profile. His right hand over the gear shift is large and confident, just like I remember it. He’s focused on the fans outside, a smile playing on his lips even as he’sfighting off a wince when a woman presses herself against his window.

The passenger taking the video screeches in surprise before laughing. It’s a woman’s voice, confirmed when her phone camera tilts down to reveal feminine thighs encased in dark jeans.

The video ends and the caption reads: “Celebrating Mavericks win and Randi’s shutout with fans! #Maverickslife #RandallHaughland #FanLove #HockeyPlayoffs”

My stomach drops like it does when I ride those pendulum swinging ships at an amusement park. At the height of its swing, the ship pauses before falling in a stomach-churning sensation of weightlessness. It takes my breath away before it makes me nauseous.

What is wrong with me? I’m being ridiculous. So what if Randall brings home another woman? Maybe they won’t even make it home; there’s a stash of condoms in the glove compartment, after all.

Why wouldn’t a single man like him sleep around? It took me by surprise, is all. Not that he owes me a narrative about his dating life.

The phone pings, and I drop it like a hot potato.

Randall:Thanks for watching the game! Are you awake? Can I call you?

Is he seriously cramming in a phone call before he sleeps with another woman? I can’t stand the thought. I’m going to bed without answering this text. Tomorrow, when I’m not under this toxic muddle of fatigue and surprise and uncertainty, I’ll reach out.

My finger lingers over the “do not disturb” button when I see his name on the screen. I endure four rings before giving in to my perverse curiosity.

Why is he calling menow?

“Hey, what’s up,” I answer casually.

“Thanks for watching the game.”

I don’t point out that he already said that in the text.

“You stopped all the goals tonight. Even better than when I watched you live. Congrats, Randall.”

“I thought about what you said. To play like I’m imagining you wearing my jersey. To play like I want everyone to know my name. Thank you. I couldn’t wait to tell you that it made a difference.Youmade a difference.” He says it quietly like he isn’t sure if he’s allowed to say it at all.

I’m touched by his sweet words. These glimpses at Randall’s vulnerability, especially after such a public accomplishment, feel like a private, precious gift. To a friend.

I quell my unease at the realization that Randall could be with a different woman on any given night. I should remember that he has a life outside our friendship. In fact, my reaction to the video is unwarranted. Randall can celebrate whichever way he wants. There’s no reason to feel anything but pride for him.

“I’m glad I could help, although I’m not the one who came through for your team. You deserve this victory.”