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I am constantly overwhelmed and astounded by how incredible all my sisters are in all the things they do. The list of their successes is never-ending. But nobody seems to care about them. Because they’re women. Because women kicking ass in their sports means less to them than an unproven seventeen-year-old boy with nothing to show for himself but a name.
I don’t know if there’s some big heart-to-heart buried in my blacked-out memories from last night, but the others don’t look at me like they’re waiting for me to leave so they can talk crap about me anymore. They act like they want to talk to me. Like they want me to sit with them in the dining hall and hang out in the team lounge between classes. And like they want me on the ice for more than my wrist shot.
I’m no pioneer. I’m not brave enough.
Huge step for men’s hockey, I say. Because, objectively, I know it is. Cauler’s the first one to like it.
Does he even realize he is holding my hand right now? He doesn’t let go the rest of the way through the house. I hold my body so tensely that by the time we come out of it, I’m positive I’ve tripled whatever damage that goalie did to my back. It feels like pins are being shoved between all my vertebrae.
“I, uh…” He scratches his jaw. “I’m leeching off my brother’s Netflix. I was gonna fall asleep to Spider-Man if you wanna…” He trails off and avoids looking at me. I swallow again. What is happening right now? “Tom Holland version?” He rolls his eyes, smirking. “Are there any others?”
“You can get in the bed,” he says after a few minutes. “It’s big enough.”
“He might come visit on spring break,” Cauler says. “Hmm?” “My ex I’m still friends with.” I stop in the middle of my message to Nova. Did I hear that right? I mean, I wasn’t really paying attention, but I’m pretty sure he said he. Is he, like, trying to come out to me right now? There’s no way.
“Are you gay?” I breathe. It feels wrong to ask it so bluntly. But I’m pretty sure he wants me to ask. He’s been leading this conversation here from the beginning. His eyes rove over my face, hesitating over my lips before he meets my stare again. “What would you do if I said yes?” There is no way. No way he’d give me that kind of ammunition against him. No way he would ever look at me like that. Like if I leaned in just a little he’d kiss the living daylights out of me. When have I ever given him the impression that I’d be into it anyway? I mean, I’m obvious, but am I that obvious?
Do not look at his lips. For the love of god, Mickey, do not look at his lips. I look at his lips, parted slightly, just waiting for me.
Jaysen Caulfield is into me. Maybe just as much as I am into him. Who would’ve thought?
“Think about your happiness, for one second. What would make you happy right this very moment? Don’t think about the consequences or what could go wrong. Just think about what you want.”
“What would help get you there? Doesn’t have to be something huge, doesn’t have to cure you of your depression here and now. Just, what would make it easier to handle?” Out in the room, Cauler’s alarm goes off. I glance at the door. “Like, it would make me downright giddy if you were here on this beach with me,” Nova adds. “Or if I had a loganberry in one hand and a Tim Horton’s iced capp in the other. It can be small things like that.”
Nova: I want you to do one thing for yourself today Promise me We have the last game of this roadie today, then we’re on a plane back home tonight. Tomorrow, it’s back to school, where midterms are coming up fast. But today, I think I can manage. Mickey: I promise.
His grin opens up into a full-blown smile, dimples in both cheeks, eyes crinkled. “You little shit.”
It’s not my goal, and Cauler’s my sworn enemy. But it was a downright beauty of an assist, and I won’t be afraid to acknowledge my good work today. I’ll have a crisis tomorrow. For now, I turn to where Cauler’s got his arms up, just as Zero and our blueliners close in on him for hugs and helmet pats. Usually I just offer fist bumps after goals. I’ve never been a hockey hugger. Now? Now I throw myself into it. I jump to get my arms around Zero’s and Cauler’s shoulders, pulling them down to my level as my skates hit the ice again.
went from feeling great, loving hockey, loving the guys on the ice with me, to feeling like I was maybe gonna be okay, to feeling as bad as I have ever felt all in a matter of days. It’s like that single day of contentedness sent my brain into self-destruct mode because it didn’t know what was happening.
Pretend I’m not dead inside for sixty minutes.
but my heart still hesitates at the sight of him. I. Should’ve. Kissed him.
“I’d still be doing this without my name. I’d just be enjoying it a lot more.”
Jaysen: I think you’re plenty interesting
My brain’s on a constant loop of you’re pretty okay to look at and right up my alley and wow, the smell of cinnamon is now enough to get me going. I am pathetic.
Nova: That was almost sexy Mickey: You saying you liked watching me get my ass beat? Nova: Mickey You’ve seen the fanfic i read I can’t help but snort at that. Nova strictly reads hurt fic involving her favorite fictional guys. If there’s any hint of comfort in it, she’s not about it. Sometimes I worry about her.
I could’ve scored six goals in that game and getting beat in a fight still would’ve been the most badass thing I’ve ever done.
Maybe it was just the way he laid me out on the ice. Oh.
“Same page?” he asks softly, a slight tremor in his voice. “Same page,” I almost whisper.
He kisses me like he means it. Holds me close to him. It’s enough to rip my empty chest wide-open.
I’m used to being alone. Not so used to feeling alone like this.
It’s too much. I smell like saliva. I need a shower. I need sleep. I need water. I need to work on my papers. I need to go back to the rink. I need.