There’s a thought.
I lean down next to him, matching him with my arms on the stage. I feel him tense against my shoulder.
“Hey,” I say. Like we haven’t been standing next to each other for the past hour and something minutes. Good start.
He’s quiet for a second, dragging a fingernail through a seam in the floorboards of the stage. “Hey.”
Okay. Time to put my nonexistent conversational skills to the test.
“So this is the kind of shit you listen to for fun.” I cringe at the same time Cauler scoffs. Wow. I am great at this. Might as well keep plowing on. “I mean, not that it’s shit, just—you know what I mean.”
“Actually, that band was kind of shit,” he says.
I blink at him. “You were literally singing along.”
“Well, yeah.”
“That makes no sense.”
He shrugs. “Maybe not to you. But some of us like to have fun.”
I say nothing. He didn’t mean to, but he hit a nerve. Of course I like to have fun. It’s just that sometimes my brain doesn’t want to let me. I expect the conversation to die there, but then he says, “We trended on Twitter for seven minutes on the way here. Got thousands of people arguing over us.”
Now I’m the one who scoffs. “Again?”
“I’ve got a feeling it’s gonna be like this till draft day, Terzo. Might as well get used to it.”
“Bet you’re loving it,” I mumble.
“Not really.” A loud, steady beat picks up as the drummer starts his check. I lean in closer to hear Cauler better. “People used to talk about me for my skill. Now they just wanna compare me to you. Someone actually sat there and said that if you were a few inches taller, these conversations wouldn’t even be happening.”
I roll my eyes. For once, my height’s got nothing to do with it. Just, you know, who I am as a person. “Lucky for you, I took after my mom.”
He ignores that, fidgeting with his lip ring in a way that reminds me we’re in his element here. The stretched ears might be out of place on an ice rink, but they’re pretty much standard here.
“I’ve been talking to your sister about you,” he says after a moment.
Great.
“I have five of them,” I say. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
He actually laughs. Just this small huff of air through his nose, but still. A laugh, and a slight uptick at the corner of his mouth. “You little shit. The one right next to you. Delilah.”
“Okay.”
He takes a breath to continue but pauses with his mouth open, like he’s rethinking whatever he was gonna say. He closes his mouth and swallows before saying, “What would your parents have done if you just totally sucked ass at hockey?”
Okay, that is not what I was expecting. Talking about my parents? What are we, friends?
“Paid for more ice time?” I say.
“What if you said no?”
I laugh bitterly. “That was never an option.”
“C’mon. It’s a sport. Not life or death.”
“It’s more than that for them.”
“What’s it to you?” He turns toward me, resting his weight on one elbow. “You wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for your name. Everyone knows it. So why bother?”
“Because I was bred for this.” I hope he remembers that Hockey News article, or I just sounded super creepy.
“I’m serious.” Cauler twists the collar of my hoodie in his fist and tugs enough for me to feel it. My breath catches in my throat. I look at him, close enough to smell cinnamon gum and coconut lotion above the sweat and alcohol in the air. I want to close the small gap between us, chase those distinctly Cauler scents with my mouth.
But we’re in public, and he’s a hockey player, and we’re supposed to be rivals.
I lick my dry lips. Look him right in the eyes. “So am I.”
The crowd starts pressing in around us again as the sound check finishes up. Cauler lets go of me and I stand up, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes and taking a deep breath. I feel Cauler straighten up beside me and lower my arms just in time to steady myself against the stage as the people behind us push in closer. The guy at my back is tall enough, he practically leans over me to be closer to the stage, his armpit dangerously close to my face.
Cauler’s looking at me. Even as the band we’re here for, his favorite band, rushes out onstage and launches into their first song. He keeps looking at me with this wrinkle between his eyebrows.
I lean into him. He ducks his head so I can speak into his ear. “You’re wrong, you know.”
His breath on my ear is hot, but it sends chills down my neck. “’Bout what?”
“I’d still be doing this without my name. I’d just be enjoying it a lot more.”
“So stop playing for your name and start playing for yourself. I know you can. I saw it in Colorado.”
I don’t really know how to respond, but I don’t have the choice anyway with a heavy breakdown in the song sending a surge of energy through the crowd. We’re both crushed against the stage so hard I’m afraid I might have to sit out of practice on Monday.
I feel freer, somehow, admitting something like that to Cauler. Maybe it’s not the big reveal he’s waiting for.
But it’s a start.
TEN
I’m just getting out of the shower when Cauler sends me a link to a tweet along with the message how dare you?
The tweet shows two candid shots side by side, one of me standing next to a girl in line at the crepe station in the dining hall, and another of Cauler and the same girl walking near each other on campus. The tweet itself says same draft spot, same girl? Must be one uncomfortable locker room.
I roll my eyes. This is hockey, not Hollywood.
I pull on a pair of gym shorts and collapse into my bed as I type up a response. This has become something of a routine the past week since the concert. Cauler and I send each other everything we find online about us and our rivalry and laugh about it. Sometimes we even go on Twitter and reply to the posts to try to fan the flames.
What can I say? It’s fun.
Mickey: I don’t even know that girls name
I just wanted a gd crepe
Jaysen: I think it’s carol?
Idk
We walk the same way to class t/h
Mickey: Scandalous
never thought id be the subject of tabloid gossip
Jaysen: you sure about that?
I mean
You are friends with nova vinter
Mickey: Shit your right
Jaysen: Either way we’re a special case Terzo Most interesting thing to happen to hockey in years Mickey: Bar was pretty low then Jaysen: I think you’re plenty interesting
This is another thing that’s been happening. Cauler very obviously flirts with me, and I die inside while trying to act oblivious.
Mickey: Pfft
How
Jaysen: Lots of ways
My chest feels heavy. I shouldn’t lead him on. I should leave him on read, make it obvious this isn’t gonna happen. But I like it. I like him.
Mickey: you got pretty low standards then Jaysen: You sure about that?
What happened with the algebra midterm?
That guilty feeling is punched right out of my chest. I sit up in bed and look down at my phone, anxiety rising in my blood with a crackle of static. Dorian comes in from his shower, viciously scrubbing his hair with a towel. I try to keep my face as neutral as possible.
My midterm grades weren’t great. I mean, I’m still eligible, but they could be better. Way better. I ended up with a C in algebra, which I was not expecting at all. A C+ in biology, which would sting worse if I actually planned on staying and doing marine science. An A in Italian, naturally, and a D in college writing, leaving me at a 2.32. Barely hockey eligible, but safe for now.
I want to do better with the second half of the semester.
I also don’t want Cauler prying about it.
Mickey: What do you mean
Jaysen: Not trying to be like invasive or anything But I know you didn’t finish it
Mickey: Professor morris gave me a redo