Page 66 of The Understatement of the Year

“Then choose an ale. I’ll pick a lager.”

I bought a six of Switchback. Not only do I love that beer, but it’s the stuff that Graham and I drank at guerrilla night. The most immature part of me was hoping he’d remember.

Bella led me to an entryway in the very beautiful Beaumont House. “He’s on the third floor,” she said. We climbed up two flights of marble steps. There were four rooms and a bathroom on the third floor landing. Bella opened the left-hand door as if she owned the place. “Hey guys,” she said, breezing in. “We brought the goods.”

“Awesome,” Hartley said from where he sat cross-legged on the bed.

Beside him, Graham looked up at us. When he saw that I’d come in with Bella, a flicker of confusion crossed his face.

Good.

“Damn, this is a sweet room, Graham,” I said.

“Thanks,” he muttered. Graham had a generous single, with a big screen TV on the wall and a giant bed. There was even room enough for a beanbag chair in the corner, where Hartley’s girlfriend Corey lounged, a video game controller in her hand.

Hartley and Graham both sat the wrong way on the bed, propped up against the wall. Bella climbed on too, snuggling up to Graham’s side.

I wandered over to the desk, where Graham’s computer and a couple of speakers were playing his favorite tunes. He was half-way through a classic rock playlist. I decided to fuck with him a little. With a few taps of the keyboard, I switched to a list of dance music. Lady Gaga began to sing “Bad Romance.”

Although Corey began to move her shoulders to the beat, Graham gave me a look of irritation.

I just grinned at him, forcing him to look away.

Perfect.

I parked my butt on the floor next to Corey, who was battling it out in a game of RealStix against her boyfriend. There were only ten seconds left in the game. When the buzzer sounded, Pittsburgh had beat the Bruins 3-2. “Who’s your team?” I asked Corey. “Did you just beat Hartley?”

“Of course,” she grinned. “Ialwaysplay Pittsburgh.”

“Ask her why,” Hartley said with a smirk.

I gave Corey a sidelong glance. “Maybe I don’t need to. Pittsburgh is a great team. And the captain is the hottest dude in the NHL.”

“Jesus, not you too!” Hartley complained as I high-fived his laughing girlfriend.

Corey put a hand over her heart. “It’s his boyish smile, you know? And he and I play well together.Right, Hartley? You owe me five bucks.”

“Beginners luck,” Hartley mumbled.

Corey just smiled. “Beginner’s luck means something different to Hartley than to other people. I’ve been kicking his butt for a year and a half now.”

“Who’s going to take on Graham’s Red Wings?” Hartley asked. “Bella?”

“I’m more of a spectator,” Bella said. “Even when it’s on a screen.”

“Graham versus Rikker, then.” Hartley tossed me his controller.

Without a word, Graham pulled up the menu on the screen. He dialed up the Red Wings versus the Bruins without asking me which team I wanted to play. But nobody seemed to notice except me. The Bruins were popular enough around these parts, anyway. (If I were, say, a Ducks fan and he knew that without asking, then tongues might wag.)

Hartley opened a beer for everybody. I took a slug of it before Graham started the game.

Right from the first minute, it was a battle.

He and I attacked each other’s weaknesses like two people who had spent the better part of junior high matching wits. When we’d played that night in Vermont, I’d noticed that Graham had upped his game over the years. (Because he had it in his dorm room, obviously. Not because his reflexes were better than mine.) Even so, I was lucky enough to score the first goal today. As soon as the lamp lit, I glanced at him.Take that, G-man.

His gaze said:bite me, Rikker. And there was heat in it.

The ref dropped the puck and we were at it again. I skated away with the puck, sending it flying behind the net where I knew that Graham’s slowest D-man would have to chase me. And the sharp elbows were out as the two of us battled it out.