Cauler’s grinning as he types something back.
“Didn’t realize you and Zero were so close,” I blurt out.
He doesn’t stop typing, unfazed by my nosiness. “That’s ’cause you don’t pay attention to anything other than yourself,” he says, but there’s no heat in his voice.
“Why, though? He’s a senior.”
He locks his phone and sets it on his chest. “His dad coached my squirt team. Taught me how to skate.”
Of course. They’re both from Boston. Both have a slight New England accent after years playing hockey away from their hometowns.
I hate being reminded that he didn’t even lace up a pair of skates until he was nine years old. That he’s been playing hockey for less than nine years and is just as good as me. Maybe even better.
I don’t know if it’s hatred or jealousy or a little of both clawing into my chest, but I do my best to bury it.
“Did you come here ’cause of him?” I ask, forcing myself not to shut down while we’re making progress in tolerance.
There’s this long beat of silence between us. His breath sounds shallow. On the screen, Tom Holland’s Spider-Man is giving an awkward speech at his aunt’s shelter.
For a second I’m afraid I crossed some kind of line and Cauler’s not gonna say anything else the rest of the night.
He swallows thickly, like he’s preparing himself for something.
“I got over my crush a long time ago, if that’s what you’re asking,” he says quietly. He holds his voice in the back of his throat as he adds, “Mr. Cicero’s like my second dad. When I told him I got scouted by Hartland, he basically wrote a thesis on why I should come here. Number one reason was Zero. Mr. Cicero thought it’d be easier if we were on the same team so he didn’t have to travel all over the place to see us play.”
I hear his words but my brain keeps short-circuiting, replaying that first sentence over and over again. Crush. Cauler had a crush on Zero. I mean, it could be nothing. Straight girls have their girl crushes; what’s to say a straight dude can’t have a dude crush?
Cauler’s done talking, but I have nothing to say in response. I stare at the computer screen without really seeing it. I’m thinking way too much into this. Cauler is my sworn enemy and would never reveal something to me that could hurt his chances of taking away my spot.
This awkward silence grows between us, to the point where I could cry with relief when my phone vibrates in the pocket of my shorts. It’s a notification about the picture I sent to Nova hours ago. I open my messages with her and say:
Mickey: Did you really just screenshot that
Nova: Eye candy purposes
Mickey: I could just
Yknow
Give him your number
He’s alot like me though i feel like
Just a lot taller
And a little less grouchy
Nova: You realize i love you right?
So being like you isn’t necessarily a turn off
But yes please
Slip me his number
I’m sending over Barbie’s number when Cauler says, “I can’t believe you’re on texting terms with Nova Vinter.”
I frown at my phone. I’m not about to explain my history with Nova again. Instead, I turn it on him. “What, you’re not friends with any of your exes?”
“That’s not what I meant. But yes, I am.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“She’s famous.”
“Y’know, some people would say the same about us, right?”
Cauler makes a face. “Hockey’s not popular enough to consider us famous.”
“Famous with hockey fans.”
“Barely counts.”
I roll my eyes and go back to messaging Nova. She’s in Australia for the week, on location for a show she’s guest-starring on. I kind of get why people are surprised by our friendship. I mean, she’s way out of my league. But I’ve seen her in all her worst, most embarrassing moments. We shared all our firsts together. I was there when she got the call that she’d landed the spread that got her where she is now. She almost strangled me to death with how tightly she hugged me.
I miss her. God, I miss her.
“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.
I turn my head and look at him. He just raises an eyebrow and waits for me to break the silence. I close my mouth and swallow, holding eye contact with him longer than I ever have before. “Are you…”
“Am I what, Mickey?”
The sound of my name in his voice is almost enough to make me jump him right here. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard him say my first name, and he makes it sound rough, seductive, infuriating.
“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.
I bite my own lip and look back up at his eyes. He’s still watching me, waiting for an answer. Imagine allowing myself this. Someone in hockey who really knows me.
Someone I can have fun with in between running myself ragged for this sport.
But. Hockey’s not the most welcoming environment for people who aren’t straight white guys. I at least have one of those things protecting me. Cauler’s got neither.
It would be a bad idea for both of us.
I clear my throat and look away, back toward Tom Holland and Zendaya, a bisexual’s dream. I can almost hear the tension between us snap. “I mean,” I say. My voice sounds too high. “I wouldn’t be weird about it, if that’s what you’re asking. My sister’s gay, and Bailey’s boyfriends are bi.”
I don’t see his disappointment, but I hear it in the way he sighs, short and soft like he’s trying to hide it. “I know,” he says. “Why do you think I felt safe telling you?”
It’s a lie. It might be part of the reason, but it’s not all of it.
Jaysen Caulfield is into me. Maybe just as much as I am into him.
Who would’ve thought?
* * *
IT’S DANGEROUS TO let myself fall asleep in the same bed as him, but I do. We stay up too late, talking about Nova and his ex Jisung and what it’s like to stay friends after breaking up.
I wake up facing him, the laptop open between us, screen dark. I check my phone to see it’s just after five in the morning, still an hour left to sleep. But I won’t be able to fall back asleep now. Not in this room, this bed, next to him.
I let myself look him over for a moment, the way he hasn’t moved except to turn his face my way. One hand still on his stomach, the other behind his head, probably numb by now.
I could’ve kissed him last night. I should’ve kissed him last night.
With a sigh, I ease myself out of the bed to use the bathroom and take my laptop to the small table by the window.
It’s dinnertime or something in Australia. Nova has to hear about this.
Mickey: Hey so problem
Nova: Oh boy
Lemme get my therapist glasses on
What’s up
Mickey: Okay so
Cauler
Jaysen
Remember him
Well
He’s like
Totally into me
She starts typing and stops a few times before a message finally comes through.
Nova: Sorry but I’m failing to see the problem here?
He’s into you
You’re into him
So do the thing
Mickey: Nova
You realize he’s a hockey player
And like
MY BIGGEST COMPETITION HELLO
Nova: Still not seeing the problem.
Mickey.
How many times do I have to tell you