Lazily waking up in bed is the way to go. Especially in the offseason without a care in the world.

  It had been a whole month since we won our title, and finally it was our day with the Cup. What were we going to do? Well, it wouldn’t be us if we did not pn our itinerary down to the st second. First, it was a nice brunch in our cozy kitchen, with the French Doors that that opened out to the backyard, and then a nice little sunbathing by the pool. We’d then take the Cup for a drive to the local rink, for our offseason camp so the kids got to spend a day with something beyond aspirational. Seeing their smiles was the reason we did this normally, but this would be a day they could never forget.

  Afterwards, we’d take the Cup to our friend’s restaurant in town, to share it with as many people as possible. We promised never to forget those who helped us get to where we are now, even if it was just Brock on the ice.

  Finally, it would be off to the ke house where we’d slip the Cup’s keeper a hundred to let us have a private keside evening and night with the trophy, where he’d return the next day to take the Cup to its European segment for the Summer. I pnned a private dinner for us while the sun set te in the day. Then we could just sit there and stargaze listening to the water come in and out before we fell asleep on the comfortable lounges we had out there. Ideally the weather would be nice enough that it would be a little while before it became uncomfortable to stay out there, but we were prepared for anything. The perks of being married to a superstar is you could afford the nice real estate.

  I slowly shifted over to my side and put my hand on Brock’s chest, whispering into his ear hoping to wake up him as serenely as I had a few minutes ago.

  “Morning, pretty boy,” I said pnting a soft kiss on his cheek.

  “Mmmm, five more minutes,” he said loosely embracing me pulling me closer. The heat of his body drawing me in, reminding me why I fell in love with him in the first pce.

  “Only for you, champion. But we have a big day today.”

  He smiled. I loved reminding him of his skillset and just how talented he was. He said it was special when it came from his biggest critic and his biggest cheerleader. I know that being his private coach may not put me in the spotlight, but it was the edge that he had that no one else could ever figure out.

  “I know, but I don’t want to leave this bed. Its just gotten so comfy the st few weeks.”

  “And why do you think that is?” I said with a smirk as I threw one of my legs over his chest.

  “Because I’m not leaving it at 445 in the morning.”

  Bending over to caress his chest, I said, “yes, you’ve gotten zy. I’ll have to add a bag skate or two, so you’re prepared for the repeat.”

  I could feel him tense up at that. Good, boy. I wanted him to know that nothing was ever given. He had to earn everything.

  “Not a bag skate.”

  “You want one today? I could schedule that in.”

  “How about another kind of workout.”

  “Brock Lazenby,” I gasped. “Are you suggesting something untoward with your coach? That would be completely out of character.”

  He sat up as I was sitting on him, tracing circles on his chest. “I would never, Rhea.”

  Goddess I loved it when he used my name. I wanted to hear it more and more, even if it was sickly sweet like pure honey. I needed it.

  I bent down to kiss him, careful not to lose myself in his morning scent. We still had a day with the Cup to attend to after all. No matter how many times I told Brock that it was his day, he made sure I knew that it was for both of us. He wouldn’t be where he was in the league without my help, and that my adjustments to his game is what made him a lock for Toronto when all was said and done. He just wished that I didn’t have to give any part of myself up for him to get there.

  Yet, I wouldn’t trade anything that’s happened for a longer career on the ice. Every moment I got to savor with him was worth it. I had my fun and now I got to take his game to the next level. Admittedly there was a part of me that wished I got a teensy bit more recognition for the work that was put in behind the scenes, but I’d happily take it in this moment.

  “Be a good boy and let me do the work,” I said almost commanding him to strip what little pajamas he was wearing. And my star pupil obliged as I took my top off. “All you need to do is y back and enjoy the show.”

  Right as I was about to start, I reached down and hear Brock mutter something. I couldn’t quite pce it as I said “what’s that dear?”

  Somehow his voice became more and more distant as I started stroking. He was lost. I wasn’t getting him back until he finished. Yet, a strange beeping started as I followed its rhythm. It was getting louder and louder as I followed, realizing that if I kept this cadence then I was going to miss out on the fun.

  Finally, my arm woke me up out of the dreamscape that I found myself in.

  It was Thursday. Game day. Eight am. I had to get ready, didn’t I?

  Working through the distraction that I managed to give myself that morning, I had a morning skate to attend and ideally a game to win.

  I was more surly than ever at the arena, just hoping to get through the morning and not dwell on what transpired in my bedroom. Brock was becoming a distraction, and distractions are what led to mistakes. Mistakes are what would lead to us missing the pyoffs. Missing the pyoffs was unforgivable. With only about six games left, we managed to have a slight cushion in a wild card berth. That meant we now controlled our own destiny, and if we somehow won out there was no way any one could catch us. I wasn’t even thinking about our magic number, just that we could not lose. We would not lose.

  That night, lose we did. But, we managed to drag it to overtime. Losing in the 3 on 3 period was a cheap way to go, but we’d take the free point keeping us in pyoff position no matter what. Of course the team hot on our heels was peaking just as we were, but we were also two points out of the first wild card position. It would be nice to hypothetically go into the fourth vs fifth pce in our division best-of-three series at home, but we just needed to get in. We always pyed Olympia, the division winners with games to spare, well, so just making it against them in a best of five would give us a shot. After that it was anyone’s pyoffs. But that’s getting ahead of ourselves. We needed to make it.

  Still, I had a dinner to attend. We could desperately use the team morale boost, and the new guy hosting as many pyers as possible in his apartment felt like a great way to relieve some of the tension ahead of our next to st home game. After Saturday, we’d go on the road one week again. Then have a home game the week after, before finishing the season in Boise. We still controlled our own destiny, thankfully but it was looking like it would go all the way to game seventy to decide the pyoffs.

  I spent Friday morning with Jenna at home, relishing a day off. Coach said we needed to clear our minds before Saturday’s nightcap, so I didn’t even think about an optional practice. That would be for the scratches just to stay fresh.,

  That allowed me to do some cooking which I wanted for the dinner party, but was politely told by our host would not be allowed. A fresh pasta lunch awaited my hungover roommate, who’s only expnation was she went out with a dy after her shift ended and they absolutely did not kiss and I was to ask no further questions.

  “Fuck this is so good Rhea, how do you know how to cook?”

  “Jenna, I live alone and I tried to avoid most of my teammates all year. What else was I going to do?”

  “I don’t know. What do boys do? Not that you are one, but you could have just jacked off and stayed inside and ordered takeout.”

  “How much money do you think I make?”

  “Easily a million, right? That’s why you’re in this shithole not a three bedroom?”

  “Jenna, I make 83,000 when I’m down here. It would be ten times that much up in the NHL.”

  “Holy shit, you’re broke dude!”

  “No fucking shit, Jenna. That’s why you have to pay rent.”

  “How were you affording this alone?”

  “I wasn’t. And I cooked every day.”

  “Damn, well at least you were eating. This is fucking fantastic.”

  “Date not go well?”

  “I said no questions.”

  “Where did you meet? Am I going to ever see her?”

  “I said. No questions.”

  “So that well huh?”

  “Do you understand what the phrase no questions means?”

  “No. I’m just a dumb jock remember.”

  “God, how are you this bitchy already? Guessing you lost st night?”

  “In overtime.”

  “That’s…good? No?”

  “Its fine.”

  “Like my date. No more questions.”

  Honestly, I did not realize how I survived the first two thirds of the season alone. I really missed this. I was so grateful it came crashing into my life, even if in that moment I wanted to be anywhere else than here.

  “So Rhea what are you wearing tonight?”

  “I have no clue. Probably the most androgynous shirt I own and some jeans.”

  “Smart.”

  “Why did you have anything in mind?”

  “Absolutely not, I don’t know boy’s clothes. I just wanted to change the fucking subject.”

  I flicked a piece of pasta at her and ughed. She may not have wanted to talk about her date, but I sure as hell did not want to talk about going to a dinner party with the guy I had a crush on in front of the whole team.

  Eventually, we settled on a standard outfit of a bck shirt and dark jeans. I looked like any nondescript man who ever lived. It constricted my soul deeply to wear, but I knew I wouldn’t stand out.

  I made my way over to Brock’s apartment around 6:30 asking Jenna to drive me. She knew where he lived after all. Plus, this would allow me the excuse to have a few drinks and linger when I needed to conveniently call for a rideshare home. That was my idea, and even Jenna had to admit she was proud of it.

  By the time I got there just before 7, I expected to be the only person there. I had a habit of showing up early to things, but was surprised about three other teammates of mine had the same idea. They skewed older, but Scott was also there. The way he was dressed though made it seem like he had been there for a few hours.

  “Marksy! You’re here!” Scott said introducing me to Brock’s apartment. “I made ribs! You gotta try them! Maple syrup gzed!”

  “He invited himself over at about 2 pm to make ribs. I had no idea this was happening.”

  “Hey Brock!” I said a little too enthusiastically handing him a bottle of wine. “Happy new apartment or something? I’ve never been traded. I don’t know the etiquette.” Smooth one Rhea. Real smooth.

  “Hah, throw it on the bar cart over there. That looks like a sick bottle.”

  “I know nothing about wine, it was just over 25 at the liquor store so I thought it was appropriate.”

  “Oh you got me the nice stuff. How thoughtful,” that sly prick. If he was anyone else on earth I thought he may be flirting with me. But there’s no way he would do that. You don’t crush on your teammates on an all male team. Or an all male with at least one closeted woman team.

  “Least I could do! This was such a nice idea.”

  “Felt we could use a nice team bonding post-deadline. Things have been hectic, I assume.”

  Before I could answer, more teammates started pouring in. Brock, the effervescent personality he was, got most of the team to show up. A few guys couldn’t get babysitters, so they stayed home plus things were about to get crazier. I learned early in the year that the married with kids crowd tends to stay home every time they can on Friday night, given how little they see their spouses on weekends.

  There were appetizers everywhere, enough drinks to satiate a bunch of burly Canadians and Central Europeans and of course two tv’s with an Xbox and PS5. Almost immediately a game of FIFA and NHL 22 were started by guys and the party was going in earnest.

  These sort of things were never my crowd, and I drifted around talking to teammates and trying the food. Every time Brock passed I made sure to compliment his appetizers, looking for an excuse to talk to him. The consummate host he was, he managed to split time between each little group that formed on his own. Half of my guys were not giving up FIFA privileges so I just kind of let conversations take me.

  I wasn’t much of a socializer, but Brock was. And I needed to show him that I could hold conversations in public if he was not going to think less of me. Plus, I genuinely wanted to talk to him. I didn’t know him well and wanted to change that. Desperately. But, it was nice learning a lighter side of my teammates. The second any of us hits the ice, we become different people. I didn’t know one of our guys has a vintage stamp collection, and another could recite the entire movie Anchorman by heart, all 94 minutes of it. Brock pyed kind of coy, asking people questions mostly and not divulging too much about himself. What was he hiding? Was I really one of the few people he let in? I knew that his family’s css and status were a real thing, but I knew nothing about the guy besides having a prep school pedigree, a first round draft status and a national championship at one of the country’s top universities for both hockey and academics.

  I got out of him that he was a math major and that he likely would have gone into academia if hockey didn’t work out. He was still thinking about possibly doing an online masters while pying, which is one of the most deranged things I could think of. Who would want to subject themselves to that much extra coursework while managing a professional schedule? Is there anything this guy could not do?

  Make a drink apparently. After bobbing around I managed to get a little buzzed and walk up to Brock and asked him what he was drinking. Before he could answer, I took a swig and nearly spit it out in his face.

  “Yeah, I kind of just, I have no idea its terrible.”

  “You’re telling me. That burned more than one of coach’s ideas of a speed drill.”

  “Pfft Marksy don’t let him hear you.”

  “Don’t worry, I’d never talk back to him. I’d be so scared of ending up in Yarosvl next year.”

  “Yaro-what-ell?”

  “Siberia.”

  God he was so cute when he was little buzzed.

  The rest of the night went by rather quickly, with Brock pying the dutiful host, and me getting beat 8-0 in FIFA. I had no idea how to py and chose the Portnd MLS team while my opponent chose Real Madrid. Apparently they are very good or something.

  Slowly, people filtered out and I realized if I lingered I had a shot at having a real conversation with Brock. Maybe this night would really be special.

  “Do you want help cleaning up?”

  Brock was a little surprised I was still in his apartment, as it was clear everyone had cleared out.

  “Oh wow, I thought you left. Yes, actually. I was going to leave it for tomorrow, but fuck that.”

  We wordlessly started going around picking things up in the apartment. It took a little longer than I expected, but with two people we were able to get everything thrown out and recycled fairly easily.

  After we were done Brock walked to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of cider, asking if I wanted one. Nervously, I nodded and he opened a second bottle for me and motioned to the couch.

  “I think that went well?” He said as he passed me the drink, clinking his bottle to mine.

  “Absolutely. It was really nice of you to do that.”

  “Like I said, I just want this team to gel. There’s an energy here that I haven’t felt in a minute.”

  “Since you ended my college career?”

  “Look.”

  “We were both thinking it. May as well talk about it.”

  “I mean we don’t have to.”

  “Nah, its. Its just weird. You were always on the other side. Now, we’re literally sitting next to each other on a couch chasing a dream.”

  “Its funny how life works.”

  “Yeah it is. I’m gd though.”

  “Me too.”

  God I wanted to kiss him so bad.

  “I didn’t get this kind of camaraderie in college. Not even the stuff I tried to avoid. We kind of just had that miracle run. And then I bailed before trying again.”

  “Why didn’t you stay senior year?”

  “I finished my degree and my agent said the signing bonuses I got in the entry deal would not be as good next year unless we won a championship. And I was too afraid to risk it.”

  “I mean that’s smart.”

  “I kind of wish I stayed. Or I did, until Jenna and you showed up.”

  “Jenna I get, but”

  “You shot this team in the arm full of energy.”

  “I’m not sure about”

  “Stop. Its true. You’re allowed to admit it.” I was getting a little bold, from the alcohol. I needed to tone it down.

  “Its not just me.”

  “That’s some hockey bullshit. It can be.”

  “I mean, I saw your lines before. You’re pying better.”

  “I have a better team in front of me.”

  “Well, let’s keep it up.” We clinked bottles again.

  Brock put on a show that we let py in the background as the conversation kind of died for a little bit. When it became clear neither of us were really paying attention, I decided it was time to break the ice.

  “So, how are you finding Olympic City?”

  “I dunno. Pacific Northwest small city? Much different from back east. What do you think of this pce?”

  “I want to get out of here as soon as possible. Yet, somehow I’ve got a friend group here.”

  “Funny how life sneaks up on you like that.”

  “It is. Its all Jennna’s fault.”

  “I wouldn’t call it fault.”

  “Certainly not, but I don’t mind getting under her skin.”

  “You two are really funny together.”

  “I’m sorry you two didn’t work out.”

  “Its fine, really. I do like her and want to be friends, as cliché as that is.”

  “She’s got that kind of”

  “Personality, yeah. You want her in your orbit.”

  “If you don’t mind me asking, what was it that made you realize she wasn’t for you?”

  “You want the deets, Marksy?”

  “Desperately.”

  “I mean it was simple, she just didn’t really like”

  We both said “hockey” at the same time before turning to look at each other and ugh. God he was so cute when he was talking about how much he loved this sport.

  “I really thought she’d pick it up in the four years I knew her.”

  “Its never going to happen. And I’ve known her like three weeks?”

  “So, it was that big a dealbreaker huh?”

  “I mean, I don’t know. You talk about not taking that leap and staying in school? I feel like I need someone who understands this game to be with them. And its rare.”

  “I get it. It is our lifestyle, you know?”

  “I want someone to push me. I want them to give a damn that I want to be better. I want them to understand that you’re always improving.”

  “Its so hard to find someone that gets it.”

  “Like, truly gets it. There are people out there that get it, but they’re not…’

  “They’re not professional athletes. We are a sick breed,” I said ughing.

  “Yes. God yes. See you get it,” the way he said that had me freeze up for a second. He’s not flirting with me right? In his mind we are just two bros on a couch enjoying a beer after a housewarming party essentially. We had become fast friends. That was certain. But that felt…that felt personal and connected.

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “What kind of women do you like Marksy?” Oh fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck. Time to lie. Thank goodness I’ve practiced this line before.

  “Athletes.”

  “Real specific.”

  “I mean like you said, I need someone who gets it. I don’t think I’ll find someone any time soon. I’m not like the married guys on the team,” I said, remembering that I wasn’t a guy at all. And I didn’t like girls. I was in love with my teammate and I could feel his warmth radiating off him next to me.

  “I don’t know how they do it.”

  “They got lucky. They found their people. Some of them have kids. I’ve always worried that having something I loved that much would take away from hockey. I learned this year its not true.”

  “You want kids?”

  “I think so?” Was I trying to convince myself? Or did I actually want a family. I had never really thought about it. “I’m so young and I still want to make the show.”

  “NHL first, kids second.”

  “Well maybe a partner second.”

  “NHL first, find the one second and then kids.”

  “The American dream huh?”

  “Thank god we’re not Canadian.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” I said chuckling.

  The conversation felt natural after that. Like we broke a barrier and kind of got each other. We wanted simir things. Or at least I think we did.

  Waking up on a couch was not what I expected out of st night, but I found myself there with a slight crick in my neck and my phone reading 6:28 am. I had gotten maybe 7 hours of sleep, because Brock thankfully ended the party around 10pm. And then we talked for a bit. Like really talked. That’s right, I was waking up in his apartment, alone. With a bnket on me, and a gss of water left out with two Advil right next to it.

  Fuck, I was smitten.

  But, I also was waking up in a stranger’s apartment wishing I was in their bed. I couldn’t stay. That wouldn’t be fair to Brock. Having a creepy teammate hang around for breakfast after falling asleep on his couch after a long heart to heart. He must really think I’m depraved. This is why I try not to socialize let alone with teammates or other guys. I bet Sapphire told him who I am too. God, what a mess.

  And its a gameday. Fuck.

  I needed to get out of there. Silently, I made my way to the bathroom to spsh some water on my face and take stock of what I needed. Clothes were on. Had my wallet and my cell phone even if the tter was barely charged. I guess drunk me switched it to airpne mode before passing out? Smart, Rhea. That’s those girl survivor instincts that Jenna and Sam were teaching you.

  Tiptoeing out of the apartment I managed to silently get to the door, open it and then close it without stirring Brock. I should be a cat burgr after hockey. That way maybe I could actually make some money if I didn’t make the NHL. I so desperately wanted to tell Brock how much I appreciated st night, and I don’t know maybe give him a hug on the way out. Just to stick my face in the crook of his neck, but Rhea these thoughts were dangerous and not what a good teammate would do.

  Stepping out into the cold morning, I noticed the sun rise and finally took my phone off airpne mode to call a ride share. I got a few texts from Jenna asking where I was. It was nice she cared. Before the car arrived I noticed I got one from Brock too. “Water on the coffee table for you. Thanks for staying.”

  What did that mean? He was just being nice right? I did not have time for any crity as my ride was pulling up and I needed to get a few more hours of sleep before the game tonight.

  I quickly wrote a text to Jenna right before my phone died.

  “On my way home! Long story. I’m fine.”