Page 45

Xander, May 13th

A familiar jingle rings in my ears. I can’t help but grin and look at my boyfriend sitting next to me. The headphones that felt so large three years ago fit much better now. Additionally, they have wised up and tried to sit us as far apart as possible. I have to stretch my leg all the way out to nudge Nicko’s foot with my own.

He raises his brows at me, then taps back.

“I hope you all survived your finals and are now looking forward to your well-deserved summer break!” The host looks between us, seemingly waiting to be interrupted. He’s new, and I wonder if we’re his first live guests. When neither Nicko nor I say anything, he continues, voice shaking under the fake cheer.

“We’re happy to send you into your vacations with one last Slice of Campus Life ! Three years ago, they were here, had just started their college journey, fresh faced and innocent, and now they are about to leave us to go on and become big NHL stars. Welcome back, Alexander Hart and Na–”

“Nicko!” Nicko and I both interrupt him, then grin at each other. I lean back in my chair.

“It’s Nicko van der Hoff.”

“Of course!” The host shuffles a couple of papers around, his ears turning red.

“Oh, everyone’s allowed to confuse one twin for the other at least once, right?” I throw in, earning myself a glare from Nicko and a short kick against my leg. I only snicker, planning to make it up to him later.

“How have you been since the last time you were here? Do you feel prepared to tackle the big league?”

“Do you want to take this one?” Nicko turns to me, tilting his head.

“Sure. I feel as prepared as can be,” I say cheerfully, thinking back to a month ago: How my hand shook when I signed that contract. How Nicko and I just laid on his bed for the whole night after he got off the phone with the Rebels’ management. Although the conversation between them helped settle his anxiety, there was a lot more to be done. Thus, the past weeks have been stressful, with Nicko going to New York thrice for additional health checks, worrying before and after every appointment. He played a stellar season, but the team wanted to be extra sure.

All the time there were rumors floating around about other teams trying to sign him. Utah and Vegas both approached his father. And for a while I worried that hearing Nicko’s voice on the phone would become the reality of our relationship.

But the Rebels were always his first choice. When I watched him put his name on that dotted line, I felt like I could finally breathe again.

“Obviously I’d have loved to bring the Frozen Four trophy into this, but…” I raise one shoulder.

“Pff, you couldn’t even get past me!” Nicko throws in and I snort.

“A guy can dream, right?”

“Oh yes, there was an altercation that almost made you and the Bats forfeit your last game before the Frozen Four. Do you want to tell us more?” The host jumps into our banter.

Not really, but I manage to keep my smile from slipping, instead just shifting in my chair, scooting closer to the table—and to Nicko. “I don’t know what more there is to say about it; someone said something that doesn’t belong in a fair game. The referee might not have ruled it as a punishable offense, but my team thought differently. And thankfully–” I look at Nicko, trying to put as much reassurance as I can into my brief smile, “–the Badgers shared our opinion. I’m glad we could finish that game.”

For a moment it’s quiet, but it doesn’t feel awkward, and I’m glad to wait until there’s another question.

“Yes, uhm...you were an important part in that decision, weren’t you, Nicholas?”

“I guess so,” Nicko hums, his brows drawing low over his eyes. He rests his elbow on the table as he mulls over the words in his head.

I look at him as I wait for his answer, trailing my eyes down along his straight nose. I want to reach out and play with the blond curl that’s sticking out from under the headphones. All I can do is inch my chair another bit closer.

“I just couldn’t...it didn’t feel fair that we’d win a game just because someone was being a homophobic asshole,” he says, frowning softly. “It wouldn’t have felt right to go into the Frozen Four like that. I wanted to win fair and square, and my team agreed. Yes, I brought it up, but in the end, it was a team decision.”

“And you took the punishment as a team too, right? Do you think you’d have won against Michigan if…” he checks his papers again, reading out the name, “Zollweg had played?”

Nicko’s shoulders draw up, and I’m about to give his foot another tap when he takes a deep breath and settles all on his own. Pride swells in my chest. We’ve both come so far.

“I can’t possibly know that. But I wanted to stand up for what I believe rather than duck my head and win.”

The host blinks a few times, then shuffles more papers. I idly wonder how many questions there are, and how much longer this will take. Because there’s a sudden need in me to ravage my boyfriend.

From the looks the host throws at me, I can guess what the next question is about before he asks. “And what uh, what do you say to fans who think you should’ve focused more on your game than LGBT issues?”

“Two things,” Nicko leans forward to speak right into the mic, his lips almost brushing it: “One: I’ve made the mistake of saying the same bullshit before, and I want to apologize for it. I vastly underestimated how much work still needs to be done, how deep homophobia still runs in sports. I’ve also had the opportunity of getting to know Hart a lot better over the past months, and he proves that statement wrong. He can do both: play amazing hockey and be the voice the community needs. And for all those doubters: watch me win Rookie of the Year next season and march at Pride.”

For a moment I’m sure that my heart must be beating loud enough for the microphones to pick it up alongside the laugh that bubbles up in my chest. Leave it to Nicko to raise a competition to every rookie that’s starting out alongside us— and say all these things that I know will be so, so important for someone out there to hear.

With a hum I lean in, to give a piece of my mind as well. I raise my hand to rest it on the table, deliberately brushing against Nicko’s arm as I move. It's a far cry from what I actually want to do to him, but that will have to wait until later.

“It’s always easy to say that when you don’t have to defend your private life at every corner. I’ve never heard someone ask this question to a straight player who gets married or has children.” I shift in my chair, clearing my throat. “But there’s a lot of support at both universities where I’ve been part of the Bonham LGBTQIA+ Alliance. The Rebels too have assured me that they are very interested in giving people like me a voice to speak out. And I’m letting my game speak for itself.”

I give both Nicko and the host a smile. “Considering I just finished a great season with the Bats, I think I can clearly focus on more than one thing at a time.”

“That’s…great?”

“Yeah, we all love to listen to Hart taking a stand,” Nicko groans next to me, but I can hear the teasing lilt in his voice. When I look over there’s a soft curl to his lips.

“So...has playing against one another made you look forward to playing together as teammates?”

This one has me weighing my head. It sure wasn’t playing against Nicko that changed my feelings about him. It wasn’t until we played together that I realized what a great team we make on the ice.

“In a way?” I venture carefully, making Nicko grin next to me.

“Definitely! Beating Hart showed me how much he still had to learn.”

“Oh really? Like what?”

“Where to even start,” Nicko sighs, his cheeky grin still in place. He leans back and counts off on his fingers as he rattles off a list: “First of all: your backhand! Secondly: playing like you’re applying for Hockey Sainthood.” There’s more—the host laughs at some point—but my brain is blank except for imagining how I could reach across to pull him in and kiss that infuriating smirk right off of his lips.

“Right! As you can see, Hoff has his work cut out for him,” I finally manage, raising a brow at Nicko.

You’re in trouble , it promises. Later.

“Maybe the Rebels should consider taking him on as coaching consultant as well.”

“Pff, it’s obvious to anyone who knows hockey.” Nicko waves my comment off, but I’m not deterred.

“For real though: He coached Middle Schoolers last summer and will again before he reports to training with the Rebels! He’s great with kids.”

The host blinks when I turn back to him, obviously blindsided with the change in topic. “Uhm that’s...really?”

“Oh yeah!” I nod, genuinely enthusiastic to talk about this side of Nicko, even as his flushing cheeks demand half my attention. Seeing him interact with Milo and celebrating the end of the kid’s season was adorable.

“It’s...it’s not just me though. It’s organized by Coach Kovachev,” Nicko tries to dodge the compliments.

“Still pretty great! Getting to learn how to play hockey from a future NHL star? Really cool for the kids!” It probably sounds like I’m getting a sponsorship for the advertisement, but I don’t really care right now.

Nicko stretches over to cover my microphone with his hand, huffing. He’s leaning halfway across my lap, and I have to bite my tongue to not wrap my arms around him and press my lips against his exposed neck– My daydreaming is interrupted by the interviewer.

“Uhm, what else are you up to during your last weeks of college?”

This time I don’t mask my snort. It’s such a basic question, though of course there’s some sadness when I think about leaving my team behind, about leaving Bonham and moving to New York.

It’s still a while away though.

Training camp doesn’t start until the middle of September, and until then, there’s glorious free time, during which I’ll try my hardest to put a small dent into my signing bonus. I want to visit my mothers, and I’ve carefully discussed the idea of taking a trip to Europe with Nicko—and Nate as well.

“Nothing much. I’m recovering from a very demanding season,” I start when I realize that neither Nicko nor I have actually said anything to fill the silence.

I catch Nicko’s look and tilt my head before I elaborate. “Of course it’s sad to say goodbye. I’ve lived in the dorms on campus for four years. I’ll miss everyone, but I’m really glad my exams are over.” Despite hockey taking up so much of my time, I passed everything with flying colors. I’m proud of that.

“I’m looking forward to the graduation ceremony,” I say, smiling. “My mothers will come to visit.”

“Sounds almost a bit boring for a future NHL star. Nicholas, what about you?”

“Uh, party and drinking, of course!”

I laugh, shaking my head. I know for a fact that after the graduation ceremony there will be dinner at the Nook. And afterward probably a movie night. And when that’s finished, I can sneak over and crawl into bed with Nicko.

“Now that’s more like the wild college life!”

“Oh, yeah, he’s all about the party,” I comment dryly.

Nicko sticks out his tongue.

I just grin back. “Aw, I’m sorry, did I interrupt you talking about yourself, Van der Second?”

“Matter of fact, yeah! You did!”

I give Nicko a cocky smirk. “Sorry, I assumed you were done.”

“Well, I wasn’t!” He gets to his feet now, intentionally stepping on my foot in the process. I have to bite my lip to not laugh. Nicko is done with this and just wants to get out of here, I can feel it. And what better excuse than to threaten all that fancy equipment.

“Ohhh, they’re doing it again!” the host whispers. He sounds almost thrilled about the building tension.

“Alright,” I say, making the point to take off my headphones before I get up, “let’s take this outside, Hoff.”

“Bring it, Hart.” Nicko’s eyes flash, and I feel the spark run all the way down my spine. Yes, we definitely need to get out of here.

“Aw no, guys, come on, you could just...okay, that’s it for today with A Slice of Campus Life ! Have–”

I don’t catch the end of the sign off as Nicko is already pulling me out the door by the collar of my shirt. I stumble along, laughing as soon as the door swings closed behind us. We round a corner, and Nicko grins up at me as he pushes me against the wall.

His lips are on mine before I can form another thought.

“Fuck, that went on forever!” he groans, and I run my hand through his hair.

“Oh? But we didn’t even talk about what positions we were hoping to play, what we want to spend our signing bonus on, not even what we–” Nicko cuts me off with another kiss but then pushes himself off of me, leaving me standing against the wall, my mouth tingling from his touch.

“Last one back to the car has to do laundry for a week!” he calls over his shoulder, already breaking into a run.

“Cheat!” I call after him, hurrying to catch up.

fin.