“And I responded saying ‘Who the fuck are you?’”

  Jenna sighed. “Men,” she said out loud to herself, clearly wondering why this had to be so hard. I still wasn’t paying attention full attention, even if the conversation was on speaker.

  “I said it twice. This is Jenna.”

  “Okay, this is getting nowhere. Did Marsky get a fucking girlfriend and somehow it eluded the entire locker room and coaching staff?”

  Jenna ughed, or rather snorted, at that.

  “Certainly not. That’s hirious.”

  “Alright, well, if you still won’t tell me who the fuck you are, that’s what I’m going with.”

  “We’re friends, he’s just a little, how would you say it, indisposed in the moment considering the three bombs your organization dropped on him.”

  “Jenna… Jenna…” clearly the person on the other end of the line wasn’t paying attention to the force of nature taking over my life without my consent.

  “That is my name.”

  “Oh god, you’re the friend. He mentioned you once on the fucking bus. Now it makes sense.”

  “And you are?”

  “His fucking coach.”

  That snapped me out of whatever disassociation was happening, but there was no way I was getting my phone back, was I?

  “Oh, that would make sense. It did fsh ‘Coach’ when you called.”

  “Let me guess, you two were inseparable in college? You kept pushing Jamie to get out of his shell and would be at every hockey event despite knowing nothing about what was going on? He then went pro and you fucking resented every second of it. Considering you have not been around at all this season, I’m guessing your reconciliation must be incredibly recent. Within the st 48 hours even?”

  “How the fuck…”

  I had barely ever seen Jenna speechless, let along fbbergasted. Not even thinking I let out of a quick ugh.

  “They call me a U lifer for coaching here for 10 years, but before that I coached college hockey for a while. In Boston. I know college kids. You all use new nguage every year, but your attitudes are the fucking same.”

  “Alright, alright. I get it.”

  “Oh you two are real co-dependent. Just fantastic. Exactly what we need right now. Anyway, give the phone back to Jamie please. Today has created a real logistical fucking nightmare for us and I need to ask him some questions.”

  Jenna wordlessly passed me the phone, with a giant pout on her face. Note to self, sic coach on her anytime she causes a ruckus during the stretch run.

  “Marksy, we gotta talk. And don’t you fucking use me to help solve any future inter-personal problems you and that girl have,” Coach said with a hint of venom, enunciating every sylble in inter-personal like he needed to scold a 13 year old child while I took the conversation off speaker.

  “What?” How did he know what I was thinking?

  “You goalies like to think you’re a step ahead of everyone, but its all just the same shit I’ve seen my entire career. Anyway. I’m sure you’ve seen the news.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “Don’t get fucking smart with me, I’m still the coach of this team and can yank you so far out of that crease a puck never reaches you again.”

  “New York got Brock. Yeah, I obviously saw. You called right as I was attempting to process.”

  “We got Brock. New York is keeping him down. He started driving up to Olympic City the second the trade made its way to his ears. I bet he has about six hours to go since he’s coming from Boise. So he’s not getting in until te. And we have to get him a rental. Needless to say he needs a pce to stay tonight, and he’s not making the bus tomorrow morning in any shape to be ready to py. So, given you’re the team hermit, he’s staying in your spare. Though you may not have that spare anymore?”

  “No that’s fine. Jenna just got here. She can sleep on my couch for a night.”

  “Yeah that’s good, she can make sure he gets his stuff tomorrow, too. He’s not coming to Eureka tomorrow. We’ll drive early, get an optional skate in. Py tomorrow night, sleep over then drive back early before Sunday’s home game at night. He’ll slide in for the home game and make his debut, get him to the rink on time for fuck’s sake.”

  “Is this standard practice?”

  “Fuck, no. But this was dropped on our ps. I’m asking because of everyone your age on this team you’re actually responsible. Don’t take it to mean I trust you, just that you’re not going to let there be a carbon monoxide leak or some shit overnight killing both of you. He’ll have his own pce by Saturday night and we’ll arrange it to be moved in from Boise he’s just gotta sign for it. Make your little friend go with him.”

  Jenna spent the entire walk to “Markus’ bar” peppering me with questions about our new teammate.

  Like, “who was he?” Brock Lazenby. Defensemen. Number 5 for Boise. Top prospect for LA. No room on the blue line for him currently in the show. Bounty of riches.

  And, “why is he such a big deal?” Two time national champion at Descartes University. First round draft pick. Sixty points in fifty-five games.

  Also, “why would he be traded?” Great question. No clue. Don’t know what anyone is thinking. But god dammit I do not want to face him.

  She only shut up when I pulled up a picture of him on my phone and she could undress him with her eyes the rest of the walk. T-minus five hours until the guy that ruined my st shot at a title, in overtime no less, shows up at my doorstep and I have to be a good teammate and welcome him in. Thank goodness I had an air mattress. Otherwise he’d have to sleep on the couch. Or I’d sleep on the couch, and he could take my bed. Jenna had a field day with that scenario, pyfully reminding me that she’d likely have to join him.

  By this point I had no reason to avoid the rest of the Core Four any more, plus I’m sure they had questions about the day. I could use dinner anyway, since I didn’t have enough food for meals for Jenna and myself, so I made the trip to the only bar in town we’d hang out at. It was your standard sports dive bar, except the owner was a Vancouver Canucks fanatic. Specifically for their star pyer Markus Naslund. Hence the name, and the garish decor from the West Coast Express era. I would joke to the owner that if my teammates pissed me off enough there that the jerseys on the wall would inspire me to “Bertuzzi” one of them. I’d escape responsibility and he’d have to expin to New York how one of their prospects went postal on his own teammate.

  I saw the other three at our usual booth, and sauntered over. “Hey,” I managed to squeak out. “Weird day.”

  “Tell me about it Marksayyyy,” Brady said, clearly a little buzzed. Our top line right winger clearly had no problem downing a few before a Six AM bus ride the next day. It was deadline day after all.

  “Have you heard anything?” Scott asked, leaving me puzzled for a second.

  “What?”

  “Anything about why this was done, when he’s coming?”

  “Why do you care?”

  “I know goalies are uncaring but I did not think you were dumb.”

  “He wants to know about his new partner,” Cude piped in, waving down the waitress for another round of drinks. “Hey babe, another of the usual,” he said smoothly with a wink at Samantha, the poor soul who was stuck taking our orders all year. Why she let the 20 year old get away with ordering Maple Syrup fvored whiskey and sodas would likely never be answered, so I stopped asking.

  “Oh, Jamie is here. Finally someone who isn’t trying to get in my pants and brag about being a hockey pyer. Do you need anything? Or are you just here to drag these idiots home,” Samantha said curtly with a smile to me. She always was disarmed when I was around. I asked her about it once and she just shrugged. Said I wasn’t like the other guys. Had a vibe. While it was something I was proud of, I really did need to get a handle on this whole Brock situation and how it would fit with our little group of gremlins I had to manage.

  “Just a burger and some fries. I’ll have a coke, too. We have a game tomorrow,” I said back, giving her my card hoping to convey an attitude of “please close this out as soon as possible I don’t want to be here a second more than I have to,” with my pleading eyes.

  “You got it, dear. Oh, who was that chick you walked in with?”

  I groaned. I was hoping the guys wouldn’t see until she pulled me away to eat at our own table or something. I did not want to expin Jenna showing up all of a sudden.

  “Marksy’s got a girl!” Beau shouted way too loud for the raucous time of six pm on a Friday in a sleepy town.

  “That’s Jenna, my friend from college. She’s,” I paused trying to figure out how to answer that. “In town. Did you see where she went?” I legitimately had no idea.

  “Nope. But will get that burger to you, ASAP.”

  I thanked Samantha before turning back to Scott.

  “Coach is having Brock stay at my pce tonight and tomorrow during the day since he’s driving from Boise for some reason. He’ll get here around 11. Then his stuff arrives tomorrow and he’ll have a rental for him while we’re pying in Eureka. He’ll start for us on Sunday when we’re home again on that back-to-back.”

  Scott just grunted an affirmation. He wouldn’t have to worry about a new partner tomorrow.

  “He probably slots in on the power py don’t you think?”

  “Why would I know, I’m a goalie, special teams aren’t my thing?”

  “Just thinking out loud,” Scott said. He was like that, he liked to pn ahead. “He’ll run the point since we py through the right side anyway. Just wondering if I’m losing my spot or if coach will be smart enough to py two defensemen on the five on four.”

  “Well, he’s basically another forward isn’t he?” Cude asked.

  Finally, I could tune them back out. I didn’t need to care about the intricacies of our new power py, and where a defensemen slotted in until it was about positioning. I just needed to stop as many pucks as possible, when our guys let them through.

  “So, he’s staying at your pce,” Beau slurred to me breaking through the noise. God he really was drunk the night before an away game?

  “Just for tonight,” I said back.

  “With you and that chick?”

  “Yes, Jenna is at my pce tonight, too. I have to figure this out because it’s a headache.”

  “Are you three going to bone?”

  “Alright, bud, we have a game tomorrow.” Scott picked up Brady’s beer and downed the rest of it. “We’re cutting you off.”

  “Thank you. I was going to, but I was afraid we reached the phase where he gets handsy,” Samantha said as she slid my pte with a juicy burger and fries in front of me, while returning my card and check with a pen.

  “Yeah, no. He’s done. Let’s close the three of us up too. Sadly, we have a game tomorrow. The boys here gotta get sweaty to bring home another dub for the city.”

  Jesus, Scott. She’s not going to hook up with you again after you told the entire bar about it the night after while she was working.

  Sam just rolled her eyes and walked away. Thankfully Jenna reemerged to pull me away from the shitshow that was our usual booth.

  “Hey Jamie I need to talk to you,” she said as the other three hooted trying to get her attention. I just grabbed my pte and drink and motioned to a table thankfully a way’s away that was open.

  She got a fucking job? At Markus’?

  I leave her alone for less than an hour talking with the boys, she goes off and gets a job working at our local haunt, ensuring that she’ll be around the rest of the season. How does Jenna do it?

  Well that’s easy. Things just happen for her. They did always in college. No matter what, things just worked out. It was infuriating. Yet, super helpful. I hated it so much.

  “I need to pay rent,” she said, shrugging as if to imply that I should have expected this. “We are roommates after all.”

  “And when was that decided?’

  “Last year. When you said we’d be rooming together this year.”

  “Obviously I did not mean here.”

  “Yeah, well, obviously we both thought we’d be in college still.”

  A weird silence hung over the table with that comment. A year ago we both thought we’d have more time together in Vermont, exploring who we were away from the world. I figured I’d have a shot to lift a national championship in school, and she figured she could use the time to actually determine what she wanted to do in life. We could both go out a few towns over where there was an actual queer scene and I could choose a new name and figure out if being a pro athlete was actually worth it. We could get drunk and ugh and hit on boys together while never actually making any moves and protecting each other. Real life wouldn’t hit until after the Frozen Four. We had time. We had each other.

  Instead, I pyed lights out and dragged our asses to within one goal of a title a year early. New York noticed and wanted me signed. And fast. They offered me a pathway to the pros. I was at my lowest personal-life wise, but highest sporting-life wise in college. There was no reason to leave another year up to chance, when an entry level contract was given to me the day after Brock Lazenby shot a stupid little puck from the point and hit the stupid little top corner of my stupid little net perfectly to end our miracle run.

  Now, a year ter we’re both sitting across from each other awkwardly at a Markus Naslund themed sports bar in fucking Oregon trying to figure out the future of our friendship and personal lives while waiting for Brock Lazenby to take my spare room for a night. The world is fucking weird when you think about it.

  The longer we went without saying anything the hungrier I realized I was getting, so I started diving into that burger to break the tension. Five bites ter and it was gone.

  “I always forget when you go all athlete on me. Its so…man-ish,” Jenna said breaking the silence.

  “Don’t ever call me that again.”

  “What an athlete? That’s like your whole identity?”

  “No, man-ish.”

  “Why because you’re a pristine little dy? I thought you didn’t want the boys to hear?” She motioned at the table where Cude and Scott were helping Brady not fall over getting up.

  “No, to them I’m a man. But to you,” I sighed.

  “You don’t have to say it, not here.” Jenna got quiet all of a sudden.

  “Thank.. Thank you.” I could barely get the words out.

  “I know you think that little of me, but I do kind of get it.”

  “I don’t think little of you Jenna! God. It’s just. This is just a lot.”

  “And who’s fault is that?”

  We both let that one go. Yes, not being honest with myself a lot of the time had caused some of this, but we both knew that professional sports were not a pce for healthy gender exploration.

  “So,” I said.

  “So.”

  “You’re obviously going to take my spare room, but tonight you have to stay on the couch. Coach is having Brock stay over because of the short notice and me being responsible and having both an air mattress and a spare room.”

  “Or I could sleep in your bed.”

  I looked up, confused.

  “What?”

  “Why would you want to sleep there? Isn’t that weird?”

  “Babe, we’re best friends. I just dropped out of school and took three days of busses to get here. I know you have to get up stupidly early tomorrow, but selfishly it would be nice to sleep around someone else’s body heat. Do you think you can handle that? Or is it going to break your little girl brain? I pegged you as straight, regardless.”

  “Bisexual.”

  “What?”

  “I’m bi. I’ve had a…lot of time to think this year.”

  “Huh. Yeah I see it. But us? Not happening. Only men for me, sorry bud.”

  “That wasn’t even on my radar when you asked.”

  “What were you thinking then? Oh she’s going to ruin my sleep or something?”

  I just picked up a solitary French fry and slowly dipped it in ketchup.

  “Oh my god you were thinking that I would ruin your sleep before an away game, you fucking athlete nerd. This is the shit they don’t tell you when you befriend a hockey pyer. Its not himbo jocks, its guys that take the most ridiculous things way too fucking seriously.”

  “Guys?” I shot her a bratty smirk at that one.

  She shoved me scoffing loudly with a genuine ugh. “You know what I mean, dammit!”

  Soon we were both in a fit of ughter forgetting where we were. We were going to be okay.

  “We still haven’t set up any ground rules.”

  “Like what? We covered don’t out you to your little hockey team.”

  “I’m serious. I’m not around a lot, you can’t just be doing whatever when I’m not here.”

  “Jamie, I’m an adult.”

  “I know, but I have ways of doing things.”

  “God you’re so weird. I won’t be a mess and I won’t trash your apartment. There? Happy?”

  “I mean it’s our apartment now.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, duh. But that’s not what I meant. We should figure out how you can get up to speed with my schedule, and when I’m training. And when I can’t be bothered.”

  “When you can’t be bothered? This isn’t sophomore year when that one girl wanted to hook up with you every time I was around.”

  “Blech, I forgot about her.” We were finding pces to unpack Jenna’s clothes in my room since the spare room didn’t really have a closet. It was getting close to midnight and Brock still hadn’t shown up. My arm was set for 5:15 am, which I was not happy about since I always, always tried to get six hours of sleep before a game day.

  “Just leave a sock on the door.”

  “For fucks sake Jenna, I meant when I have to watch film or meditate. Or you knowing when I’m on a six day road trip.”

  “Those happen?”

  “Yes. Do you know anything about how this sport works?”

  “Not a fucking clue.”

  On cue there was a knock on the door.

  “Shit. He’s here. I’ll get it.”

  Walking from my room to the front door felt like I was standing on the precipice of a fucking cliff. Our whole team got uprooted right before the most important stretch run of my career, and it felt like I was the god damn nexus of it all. And then I remembered what the sports psychologist I saw in college told me, “not everything is about you.” So, real fucking selfish Jamie. The NHL trade deadline and the strategy behind New York’s front office is about a seventh round pick pying in the UHL in Oregon with a .896 save percentage. Though that surely would go up with pying time.

  More knocks on the door. “I’m coming, hold your fucking horses.”

  I swung the door open as fast as I could to get the pounding to stop. Standing on the other side was Brock Lazenby in all his aura. Tall, blonde and with poise he looked like someone who won Mr. Hockey in Minnesota sophomore through senior seasons of high school. A real Shattuck man. I had no idea if he even went there. But god damn I did not expect him to be three inches taller than me and built like a fucking tank.

  “Hey,” he grunted clearly waiting for me to let him in.

  “Hey,” was all I could get out as I looked at all six foot five of the new star defensemen of the Olympic City Mariners and ideally the professional hockey team back East in New York one day.

  Sensing my pause he had a slight smirk on his face. I’m sure countless women have looked at him like I did, afraid to gasp and knowing that he was in fact that hot. My brain could not process that for some reason he was now standing a foot away from my face. He’d probably text whatever group chat he had with his old buddies on Boise that “yo, that oly goalie is a fuckin’ weirdo!” or something after this painful interaction for him ends.

  “Is that the hottie sleeping with us tonight!” Jenna shrieked from my room. God dammit.

  “If your little boyfriend lets me in,” Brock shot back. His smirk growing wider with each passing second.

  “Him? Definitely not a boyfriend.” The condescension smacks me as she shoves me aside to reach out her hand to the Goliath in the doorframe. “Jenna Stanley, and this starstruck moron is Jamie Marks.”

  “Oh I’m aware. I bet he’s repying the moment I ruined his life st year on repeat,” god this guy’s confidence was going to make the core four, or I guess fab five after all, even worse. “So not a girlfriend?”

  “Deliriously single.”

  “How do you know Jamie?”

  “Jamie is also right here,” I say, to absolutely no one as I’ve lost control of this situation.

  “I’m his advisor. Confidante. Bestie. Basically he couldn’t live without me.”

  Brock just chuckled at that one and walked in leaving me to stare at an empty doorframe as he continued to exude nothing but confidence to Jenna.

  “Well if I’m to make a good impression on this team, clearly I’ll have to charm you.”

  “Lucky for you, I just got here so I don’t run the team yet. Give me a week though and that statement will prove beyond correct.”

  “Jenna, as always you have no idea what you’re talking about. Hi, Brock. It’s nice to meet you finally, I guess?”

  “Yeah. Weird timing. Weird situation. Excited to be here though, you guys are tough to py against.”

  “Gd we’ve got you on our side. I don’t know if you talked to Coach Mac, but you’re off tomorrow. Sleeping here then taking the day to get set up. Meanwhile we have a Six AM bus to Eureka. So since you’re here ter than I thought, I need to get to bed. I’ve got an air mattress set up in the spare room, sorry its not the best.”

  “All good, bro.”

  I winced. Hopefully he didn’t notice. Oh god, less than six hours around Jenna and the dysphoria is back with a vengeance.

  “Get those z’s, I can chat with this lovely friend of yours tomorrow so I don’t keep you. I know how much I hate not sleeping well the night before a game.”

  “Thank you. Someone understands. Jenna, can you come with me? Let’s let Brock set up, he had a long drive.”

  “Awww you both are no fun. They really do not warn you hockey pyers are just buzzkills.”

  “Yup. Exactly. Some of us are professionals.”

  “He’s right, you know? This shit is a grind.”

  I nodded. Maybe that smooth talker actually knew how to be a professional. Shame that LA never had room for him. But is it?

  I had to drag Jenna by the sweater back into my room before I quickly closed the door and started to change into pajamas.

  “Alright, we’re going to bed.”

  “Woah, who said anything about me going to bed?”

  “Well I have to, and you were the one who wanted to sleep in the same bed with me, so either get changed or take the couch.”

  “Jesus Jamie, you really can be a bitch sometimes.”

  “When you’re out celebrating my first Stanley Cup win with me, I’ll look back on this moment and tell you I told you so.”

  One pyful shove ter and we were changed and washed up and in bed faster than either of us could have imagined.

  “Hey,” I whispered to Jenna. Partially hoping she was asleep but really wanting to get something of my chest.

  “Hey, you.”

  “I’m really gd you’re here. I know I may seem annoyed, but I’m really fucking scared.”

  “Scared of what?”

  Yeah, scared of what, Jamie? Actually achieving any of the multiple dreams of yours that were in reach? Scared of failing at said dreams? Scared everything was going to blow up in your face?

  I was not ready to tackle that question when I was only getting four hours and fifty two minutes of sleep if I closed my eyes right now.

  “Scared of what you and Brock are going to do on my bed when I’m out.”

  “Be fucking serious for once Jamie.”

  “A lot of things. We’ll talk when I get back from Eureka. It is technically game day since it’s after midnight.”

  Jenna nodded and let herself curl into me. Within minutes I was cuddling my best friend and out like a light. Even if it was four hours and forty nine minutes til my arm went off.