Page 18

JULIAN

I drop onto the bench during the second intermission and close my eyes. We’re well on our way to losing by another shutout. We can’t seem to get out of our own way.

There are days we can say the refs are making shitty calls. That’s true of nearly every game. They don’t call shit that should be called and call stupid crap that shouldn’t be bothered with. There are four sets of eyes on the ice too, so it’s truly unnecessary.

Tonight isn’t one of the bad nights. If anything, I think the refs are calling crap that are in our favor and we still can’t get on the fucking board.

Worst yet, we’re losing to Anaheim. It’s fucking pathetic.

They’ve become such a nasty team, though tonight they feel almost subdued since the last time we played them.

They’ve been on a downward spiral to becoming as hostile as Tampa and the New York Gulls.

Last season, they were giving those two teams a run for their money on who could be the nastiest on the ice.

I watched highlights from a game between Tampa and Anaheim last year… It was the worst thing I’d ever seen.

Growing up, there’s a lot of hype about how fans love the fights but to be honest, it gets old pretty quickly.

The constant game stops. The unnecessary penalties.

By the time I hit college, I was over the fighting on ice and just wanted to play the game.

I wanted to watch a game from start to finish without having to stop every two minutes because someone needed to measure their dicks.

Tonight hasn’t been bad except for our play. I look around the locker room and can feel the lackluster in my teammates. We’re already defeated. We’ve already lost the game. We could walk out right now and be fine with it.

We’ve been sitting there for a few minutes when Coach Taylor steps into the locker room and looks around.

I can feel his frown, even if it’s not pointed at me.

But why shouldn’t it be? I haven’t scored tonight either.

Fuck, unless I grab the puck myself, I’ve barely had the puck.

Our teamwork isn’t just breaking down. It’s simply nonexistent tonight.

“No more goals in the net,” Coach says. “I’d really like to see you make a goal tonight, but I’ll be satisfied if you stop letting goals in. Can you do that?”

I think he’s talking to Patrik, but when I glance up, he’s looking around the room at everyone.

“This is a team sport and for some reason, you feel incredibly disjointed tonight. What’s up?” Coach asks. “Why aren’t we passing more? Where are our attempts on goal? You’ve had three power plays and still couldn’t keep the puck. Tell me what the problem is.”

I shake my head. I’ve been asking myself this question for the last couple of months now. There’s definitely a breakdown somewhere. But I’m not sure where it is.

No one answers. Coach shakes his head. “No more goals, boys. You have another period to turn this around. I think you can do it. But what I think isn’t going to do you any good is if you’ve already decided you’ve lost.”

He leaves the locker room. Someone’s stick falls.

Someone huffs loudly. I absently wonder how many of my teammates pray for a trade at the end of the season.

I haven’t gotten to that point yet. Not quite yet.

My prayers are all about getting this team to turn itself around and scrape together some damn effort so we can pick our dignity up off the ground.

I allow my mind to wander, which is something I never do during a game. But it seems we’ve all checked out, and it’s impossible to be the only one who cares. Then again, maybe my mind isn’t wandering so much as it is wondering what Arush is doing right now.

Watching this disaster of a game, probably. The worst part of tonight isn’t going to be our loss. It’s going to be going to the hotel room and Arush not being there. With a few minutes left of the intermission, I get to my feet and stretch. My phone is flashing with a message.

It’s rare that I even touch my phone during breaks, but I pick it up and a grin covers my face when I see that it’s a text from Arush. He’s never texted me during a game before. I pull it down on the screen so I can see the whole thing.

Arush

OMG, that save was awesome. Did you see it? Your goalie did so good!

Sorry, I shouldn’t have messaged during your game. Good luck. I think you can make a difference tonight!

My head tilts to the side. I think you can make a difference tonight. Can I? I glance around the locker room and decide that maybe I can. But not in my current capacity. I can’t keep fighting for the puck with no help. That’s not getting us anywhere tonight.

Maybe I can help Patrik instead. Make a more concentrated effort to protect the goal with him since our defense seems to be falling short. I don’t think I’ve seen a single one of them where they needed to be tonight.

We file back out, and I commit to my plan. Losing in a shutout sucks. There’s very little that sucks more than that. Except losing in a shutout when the other team has scored a significant number of goals against you.

Maybe I can make a difference by trying my hand at defense. To be fair, I’m not a huge guy. The reason I stuck with offense growing up was because I was quick and agile. It made for a good wingman or center. But there’s no reason I can’t still be an obstacle, right?

I skate around the ice to warm up again with Arush’s text running through my mind. I think you can make a difference tonight . Maybe I only want to make a difference because I know he’s watching, and he believes in me.

The teams square up as we get ready for puck drop.

Anaheim gains possession. Shocking, right?

I follow quickly and instead of joining the huddle at the wall, I position myself at the side of the goal.

While I’m not sure if this is where I’m supposed to be if I were a defenseman, it feels like a good position.

It’s funny. I know where they’re supposed to be by visual cues. But putting myself in that position gives me a different perspective that leaves me a little unsure. However, I have no time to ask questions, so I commit to what I’m doing and watch the puck as the teams battle it out.

A whistle blows and we’re moved to the faceoff circle, which means I need to go back to my own position. When the puck drops, Chicago miraculously takes off down the other end of the ice. I follow as quickly as I can, meeting Carter.

He passes to me and I take a shot. I’m not quite wide open, but open enough.

It passes through the bodies but hits the goalie’s leg guard and bounces off.

Seems someone above is giving me a second chance since the fumbling with the puck ends up sending it right back at me. I adjust my angle and try again.

The goalie hits it with his stick and it bounces off the goal post, not going in.

I groan and then dig my skates into the ice to follow the puck down to our end.

I’m planting myself as a barrier between the rink and Patrik when the puck comes flying at us.

I dive for it and feel the impact on my stick.

It ricochets away and everyone chases it to the other end again.

That’s all I can manage right now, though. I’m winded and need a rest. With my stick in the air, I adjust my trajectory to swap out and take a seat on the bench, watching the game as I spray water into my mouth.

We don’t get on the board. I manage one more attempt at goal and my teammates make a handful more as well. It’s sad to say that we spent most of the last period in our own zone, trying to keep the puck from the net.

I’m happy to report that I think maybe I did make a difference during this game.

I feel like I stopped the puck from getting to Patrik several times.

We lose 4-0 but at least we maintained that score throughout the last period.

There’s no argument that we could have done better, but we certainly could have done worse.

Patrik shoves me playfully when we get into the locker room. He grins big when I meet his eyes. If no one else noticed where I’d been playing tonight, he did. I smile in return.

I’m half stripped of my gear when Coach comes in. “MVP mention tonight,” he says, and everyone turns their attention to him. “Way to step up and adjust your gameplay tonight, White. Good job.”

I smile, bowing my head. Okay, Coach noticed too.

“Bus leaves in forty. Back on the bus tomorrow morning at ten. We’ll review the game on the plane. Get some rest.” With that, he leaves.

Carter shoves me a little harder than Patrik. “You have some defenseman in you, Julian?”

I shrug. There’s a lot I want to say. Like I wouldn’t have tried my hand at defense if our own defensemen were doing better. Or that I might have concentrated more on my own position if passing the puck was still a thing with this team between more than just Carter and I.

Instead, I shrug. “Their goalie was a concrete wall tonight. I chose to put my effort where it might benefit us all instead.”

Carter laughs. “Good for you.”

“Good for us,” someone else mutters.

The room is filled with people stripping from their gear and showers turning on. I lose myself in the background noise and move through my end-of-game routine. My headphones go in on the bus. I stare at Arush’s message on my phone the entire ride.

When I’m finally in my room, I strip from my suit and climb onto the hotel bed in the dark. As soon as I fall back on the bed, I pull my phone out and call Arush. At last. I get to hear his voice.

“Hi,” he says, sounding somewhat breathless. “Are you okay?”

His question makes me smile. It’s always the same question when I call. Every time. As if that’s the only reason I’d call him. “Yes. Are you?”

He sighs. “I’m fine. That game was… interesting.”

“Even you, still learning the game, saw how awful it was. That’s great.”

Arush laughs. “You did really well in the last part, though. I didn’t know you could get in the way like that.”

I chuckle. “It was clear during the first two periods that I simply wasn’t getting cooperation from my teammates tonight, so in an effort to keep us from losing by more, I thought I’d change my strategy for the rest of the game.”

“Was your team okay with that?”

“I didn’t tell them what I was doing. I just did it. Coach seemed pleased after. Patrik was happy for the support. I don’t really care what the others think, to be honest.”

Arush sighs.

“You know what really helped to motivate me in the last period?” I ask.

“What?”

“Your text message. I rarely pick up my phone during intermission, but for some reason, I did tonight. I really needed your text. Thank you.”

“I thought I was bothering you by texting you during the game,” Arush says, his voice sounding sheepish.

“Not at all. As long as you understand I won’t answer during the game and you won’t be upset about it.”

“Oh no. I knew you weren’t going to see it. I guess I just wanted you to know I was cheering for you.”

I close my eyes, a smile lingering on my lips. Warmth spreads through me. “Thanks. I love that.” A quiet moment passes. “You can call me when I’m away, you know. You don’t ever have to wait for me to call you.”

“I never know when you’re busy.”

“If I’m busy, I won’t answer, and I’ll call you back when I can.”

“Oh. I guess I didn’t know if you’d want me to.”

“I love to hear your voice,” I confide. “I miss you when I’m away.”

Arush sighs. “I miss you, too.”

“Are you in bed?” I ask.

“Yeah. I’m in your bed. Is that still okay?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“Are you in bed too?”

“Yes, and it’s not anywhere near as comfortable as mine.”

He laughs quietly. “This is a really comfortable bed,” he agrees. “It needs some color, but it’s comfortable.”

“Color?” I ask, my eyebrows knitting together. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing, really. We just come from two very different cultures. In India, our homes are bright with patterns and colors and warmth. It seems Americans like the cool, neutral, empty colors.”

“Empty colors,” I repeat, laughing.

“Yeah. Your walls are gray,” he says. “That’s an empty color. It’s like gray skies and dull feelings.”

“Wow,” I say, still chuckling.

“I don’t hate it,” Arush says. “I’m mostly just teasing. Teasing with the truth but still only teasing. I like your condo.”

“If you want to bring some India in, you can do that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Definitely.”

Arush hums. “I think I might if you really don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind. Have fun. I lease the furniture so don’t dye it or anything drastic.”

“Why do you lease it?”

“Three moves in three years. It’s a hassle constantly having to move furniture around so the only things I truly move with me are my kitchen, clothes, and bed.”

“Ah. I can see how that can be inconvenient. I’ll keep it in mind. I don’t really need to make permanent changes to bring the spice of India into Chicago, anyway.”

I grin and climb up the bed. A yawn overtakes me.

“I can go if you want to sleep,” Arush says.

I hum in acknowledgement. “It’s okay. I’m not quite ready to fall asleep yet, but if you want to go to bed, we can get off the phone.”

“No,” Arush says. “I like this. It’s nice. It’s so quiet here when you’re gone.”

I huff. “I know that feeling. I’m sorry. I wish there was a way that you weren’t alone so often.”

“It’s okay.”

“Hockey’s almost over,” I assure him. “Less than a month.”

“Then what?”

“I have a hockey thing a couple days after the last game at a local school. Otherwise, there’s not much going on. We can do whatever we want.”

“That sounds fun,” Arush says.

It does. I think I’m suggesting some ideas but as I drift off to sleep, my last thought is that I don’t think I was actually saying them out loud.