Page 64 of Crease Collision

I push back to my skates as we reset again. The noise of the rink settles into blades carving ice, coaches shouting, and pucks clattering along the boards. Normal. Safe, if I let it be.

I tap my posts, check my stance, and get ready for the next shot.

For a second, I flash back to Kai sitting across from me at Chelsea Market, listening so seriously while I explained why Swedish hot dogs are superior to American ones. The thought appears from nowhere, and just as quickly, I shove it away.

“Olly!” Carson shouts. “You alive over there?”

“Yes,” I call back.

Everyone laughs.

We rotate through two more reps before Troutman finally blows his whistle. “That’s enough, men. Good work.”

The guys coast toward the tunnel, looking exhausted and talking among themselves. I fall in behind them, but Troutman calls me over to where he’s standing with Miller, the goaltending coach.

“Great callouts, Olly,” Troutman says. “Can you yell any louder?”

“Yup. Sure thing.” The words feel funny in my mouth, but I’m trying to sound more like my teammates.

Miller slaps me on my chest pad. “Good job, son. Go get cleaned up.”

I tromp to the locker room, where the guys cheer as I step inside.

“You’re a fuckin’ stud, Olly,” Lewis yells, throwing up a hand for a high-five.

Kendrick, not to be outdone, calls out, “You’re nasty, Olly.”

He hits me with a chest bump, jumping so hard his towel comes undone and falls to the floor. Just as they would in Sweden, catcalls and whistles fill the air.

Butler, a young center, says, “Woo hoo, Kendrick! I can see why your lady is so happy all the time.”

Locker room business as usual. Hockey players are the same everywhere.

I take my phone off the top shelf of my stall and glance at the screen.

KAI: Survive practice?

I catch myself smiling and try to wipe it off my face before anyone notices. Not quickly enough, it turns out.

Lewis yells, “Whoa, boys, check out the big grin on Olly’s face.” Then, “Text from your girl in Sweden, or are you already tapping something here?”

Everyone chimes in with more catcalls while I return my phone to the top shelf. To buy time, I start taking off my gear. Instead of going on to the shower, they’re all still watching when I get down to my compression shorts. They’re waiting for me to answer Lewis’s question.

I’m not ashamed to be bi, but I haven’t been with the team enough to know what their attitudes are. I go with something neutral, trying to sound like one of them.

“I’ve got a little something going on here.”

“There we go,” Kendrick says. “Can’t have our new guy wearing out his right hand.”

“She good?” Butler asks. “The girl I’m seeing has a friend.”

I wave him off. “I’m seeing how it goes in New York. I’ll let you know if I need help.”

“Help?” Lewis asks. “You’re into getting a little crazy?”

My cheeks burn when I realize what he’s referring to. “No, I don’t need help with that part. I just meant⁠—”

“I know what you meant.” Lewis taps my shoulder. “I’m breaking your balls.”