“Okay why are we watching another team py hockey on your day off, Rhea?”

  I audibly scoffed. Of course Jenna did not get it.

  “Because Jenna, other teams’ results impact ours with five games to go in the season.”

  After thoroughly debasing myself at my crush’s apartment and finding myself awake on their couch before dawn, I managed to have one of my best games of the season. It wasn’t a shutout, but we won 4-1 and it was never in doubt. That put us five points ahead of Eureka, with five games left in our season. We would have a three-game away set in Washington State and Portnd, come back to Olympic City for our st home game of the year and then go off to Boise to end the year. Eureka was right on our heels all season but somehow we had opened just a little bit of space right before this stretch. Yesterday’s win left them five points back with six games left in the year, one more than our five, so I was spending our Sunday te afternoon watching their game to see where we would be when we both pyed 65 games. If they lost our magic number to clinch a pyoff spot would be five points, as we owned all tiebreaks against them.

  “You literally have a chance to go out and enjoy yourself but you’re at home stressing about what another team is doing?”

  “That is how this works. Yes.”

  “You all are freaks you know that right?”

  “Couldn’t agree more.”

  “Why am I watching with you again?”

  “Because if Eureka loses this game I promised to go out with you.”

  “Oh yeah, and you’re paying.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says the girl trapped against her will watching minor league hockey that she does not even have any sort of rooting interest for.”

  “Don’t you want us to make the pyoffs?”

  “Do I want you to make the pyoffs?”

  “Jenna…for fuck’s sake of course you do.”

  “Okay then I want you to make the pyoffs.”

  “So you have a rooting interest!”

  “You’re still paying. I’m assuming there’s a pyoff bonus.”

  She’s got me there.

  “I bet your tips during a pyoff run would be more than my bonus check.”

  “Doesn’t matter, you’re paying.”

  I spped the table as Eureka scored another third period goal. They were up 3-2 now. But there was plenty of time.

  “Like I said. You’re all fucking freaks.”

  “You love it.”

  “No, you love it. I am tolerating it because I missed my best friend in my life after she decided signing a professional contract was more important than our senior year apartmentpalooza.”

  I stared daggers. “Out of line.”

  “Fine. Fine. You’re right. But please, don’t destroy your coffee table in my presence.”

  “This is nothing.”

  “Girl. Fucking talk to a therapist.”

  “When I’m in the NHL they can afford that.”

  “Good. You can freak them the fuck out with your gender shit, and they won’t be able to tell a soul.”

  “Jenna.”

  “Rhea.”

  We both broke out ughing. The reality of the situation sometimes was just too much, and really the only way we could deal was just leaning into the absurd. However, I was not going to give an inch into the cauldron of giving a shit about other teams’ results. Thankfully Eureka let in a softie and all of a sudden it was 3-3 with about 12 minutes to go in the third period. More than enough time for that shell of a team to give up another and leave our magic number hovering at five.

  Thinking about what would or even could happen if I were to make the NHL was a fool’s errand. People like me did not get to live their professional athlete dreams and be affirmed. I did not want to be ridiculed out of the league just when I was getting a foothold. It sucks to think about, but its also the reality of the situation. So, as my closet continued to shrink real estate wise, all I really had was this potential pyoff run if I wanted to have a championship at any sort of level. Its not something many people got. Winning a title at any level is fucking hard. If more than one team could do it each year, that would change a lot of people’s professional calculus. Instead, we’re all chasing after this illusive idea that maybe we will win our final game of the season and have it mean something.

  There’s a reason why even in Cinderel run’s she doesn’t get to be seen with a dress on at the parade. You don’t lose the gss slipper, but you don’t get to be queen of the ball, just king of the metaphorical castle.

  Going down this mixed metaphor nightmare, Eureka’s goalie did what he did best when times got hard: let in another softie.

  “Start pouring shots Jenna. I think we’re going to Crowe.”

  “Oh I know who to fucking call, we’re having a night.”

  Riley Strauss, our beat reporter, was pregaming in my apartment. And in between shots she was making out with my roommate. While I was doing my makeup. And the sober best friend of the head waitress where my teammates hung out was muttering “I knew it, I knew it” over and over as the hours ticked ter and the te-2010s pop got louder.

  “I know you’ve only been a girl in public a few times, but you really have the whole it takes hours to get ready thing down, don’t you?”

  “Oh shut it Sam, not all of us are prepared to go out on a Sunday night, some of us have jobs where drinking is a detriment.”

  “We get it you’re a professional athlete.”

  “You,” I pointed at Riley, “have been hanging around Jenna too much. Don’t let her anti-sports bias seep into your writing.” I then colpsed into a fit of giggles.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I’m sorry its fucking weird that you’re dating my roommate, Riley. While literally having a job where you have to maintain a professional distance from me. Its really funny if you think about it for more than a nanosecond.”

  “ROOMATE?”

  That snapped Jenna out of her trance on her new situationship or retionship or whatever those two were calling it now after a few days of apparently being able to keep their hands off each other.

  “I’m your best friend, asshole!”

  “And you live with me! But now that you’re paying attention, we should get going.”

  “Great idea, Rhea!” Sam said cpping her hands together. “Gd you’re finally fucking ready. Oh, and shotgun.”

  “You can’t see the car!”

  “And I’m not sitting next to the face suckers over here”

  “We have names!”

  “I’m not sitting next to Riley or Jenna over here.”

  Scoffing, Riley poured one st shot for the four of us to down as Lia gred daggers at us for dawdling. The longer we were in this apartment she had to look at the girl she made out with st time we went out and her new paramour. I’m sure that was incredibly awkward.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered to her as we started to make our way to the car.

  “Oh, that? I’m very over it. I was over it the second we snuck you out of that bar.”

  “That does…not sound convincing.”

  “You’re also not a lesbian. This is normal. We’re all going to be best friends in a week.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Because there’s like 5 lesbians in this town. All are apparently your friends by the way.”

  “I really don’t know how that happened.”

  “We all want to be your bridesmaids. Also, you’re going to be famous.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Well your husband will be,” she said with a wink.

  “This isn’t a rom com or some story you read online. Real life teammates don’t fall in love.”

  “Right, but in this case one has. What’s that song, we’re halfway there?”

  “You are living on a prayer, Lia.”

  “Then in that case I’m praying for a spot in this wedding. The budget I’m sure will be more than I ever make in my life.”

  “You do realize we’re all in podunk Oregon?”

  “I watch the games, that boy is going to New York next year. And you are too if you get your head out of your own ass the next few months.”

  “You make it sound like that’s a given.”

  “Five points up, five games left. Don’t fuck it up.”

  After the debacle the happened at this bar st time, we made sure to scour the pce upon entry. And by we I meant myself, Sam and Lia did a p to make sure that there were no unwanted straight men in this lesbian bar. Well I couldn’t be 100 percent sure that the smattering assortment of men were not in fact closeted trans women like myself, but none of them were Brock Lazenby.

  While there was the tiniest fraction of myself that was slightly disappointed that I wouldn’t have an excuse to run into the desire of my affections, the rest of me breathed a sigh of relief and realized that I was in a safe space to let loose and dance.

  Lia was right, a five point cushion with five games to go gave us some breathing room. We couldn’t coast, but if we won half of our road games our final home game there was absolutely nothing Eureka could do to save their year. Ideally this would be wrapped up before any of the st two games, but you never know until mathematically you are in the pyoffs.

  With nothing I could do to influence any outcomes tonight, I was determined to dance. And forget my masc existence. I was surrounded by queer women, I was out as myself a genuinely, honest to god trans woman and things in my life had been going well. What would be better than getting a little drunker and dancing with my friends in a space that let me be my most me?

  Monday was a travel day, but we didn’t have to be on the bus at some ungodly hour like 6 am. I could rex, I could be whoever I wanted. And tonight? Tonight I wanted to be the kind of person that strikes up a conversation with a stranger at a bar not looking to get id and make a new best friend for life. I also conveniently needed another drink, so what better time like the present to make good on this idea?

  Striding confidently off the dance floor, I gave Riley and Jenna a wink as a made my way to the bar to get another vodka soda. As genuinely weird it was to see those two together, I couldn’t help but smile at two of the more important people in my orbit gravitating towards each other. I’m sure they’re probably moving very quickly as lesbians tended to do, but I could not believe my luck in getting to watch two genuinely great people have a spark with each other. I barely got the info that they were together out of Jenna, but thankfully Riley had a day off tomorrow to travel like we did. So, it was impeccable timing she had texted Jenna asking to hang out right as I demanded we go somewhere “fun” as Eureka gave up an empty net goal to seal their fate for the night. It almost was as if the universe was guiding this hang out showing the five of us things were good and we should be celebrating with one another. If only Cra were around. I swear she would get out with us one night and I could have a proper conversation about my gender with her. Disclose everything and get her up to speed, even if she really somehow did know everything.

  Once I hit the bar I saw the most gorgeous looking trans girl trying to get the bartender’s attention. She did not need to enunciate her vocal fry, I would have clocked her anywhere she was just that pretty. I wanted to be her.

  Somehow I had managed to get the bartender’s attention as I was walking much to her dismay, so I immediately said “I’ll have a vodka soda and a…” pausing for her to order a gin and tonic, “for my friend…” pausing again for her to say her name was Sophie.

  “Thank you for that, sometimes the bartenders here are such dicks.”

  “No problem! My friends know them and they’ve been great to me all night.”

  “Figures.”

  I shrugged. “May as well take advantage?”

  “Oh I get it girl, no worries. Love your dress by the way. You look weirdly familiar though”

  Oh shit. Was I clocked again? I worked extra hard on my makeup, too. No, you saw yourself on your phone before coming in, no one was recognizing you.

  “I get that a lot,” I said hoping to py this one cool.

  “You ever come here?”

  “Just once. With some friends.”

  “Huh, could have sworn you were a regur here. I’m terrified of making the fist move so I probably just assumed.”

  “You want to know a secret?” I said, exuding false confidence. “I’m straight.”

  “We won’t hold it against you. Especially because. You know.”

  “Oh do tell. I don’t know,” I said with a genuine panic.

  “Oh come on we both clocked each other before even opening our mouths.”

  “Thank fucking god.”

  “Have some faith in me!” She said pausing clearly trying to get myself to introduce myself.

  “Rhea.”

  “Okay gorgeous name. I need to know how you picked it. Come meet my friends.”

  I followed Sophie over to her table where three other girls were assembled having their drinks.

  “This is Marci, Andrea and Jordyn. Where’s?”

  “Bathroom,” Jordyn said before Sophie could finish.

  “Gotcha. This is Rhea, we just met at the bar. Had to bring another doll who seemed cool over.”

  “Hey,” I meekly said, taking a sip of my drink.

  “Rhea? That’s a unique name! What’s it’s significance?”

  “Significance?”

  “Oh come on we’re all trans here.”

  “Ohhhhh. Sorry.”

  “You couldn’t tell?”

  “I don’t get out much and all of my friends are cis.”

  “A travesty,” Sophie said, drawing a snort from me.

  “Its after an athlete. Manon Rheaume. She’s…”

  “First woman to py in a North American men’s league.”

  Fuck.

  “Yeahhh…” I’d know that voice anywhere.

  Okay Brock what the fuck are you not telling me. How am I consistently running into you at a lesbian bar in bumfuck Oregon. There’s no way this gorgeous man is trans is there? That would be my luck. Finally opening my heart to a boy and he’s a fucking girl. And I said my life wasn’t anything like a romantic story.

  “Did not expect anyone to know that,” I mumbled trying to chug my drink and die of embarrassment.

  “Oh, Rhea! This is Brock, our friend. He’s a”

  “Hockey pyer,” I finished Sophie’s sentence.

  “See, I told you I’m kind of known.”

  “So full of himself this one.” Andrea said.

  “He did say that,” Sophie jumped in to say.

  “You’re on the Mariners. I did, uh, not expect you to be at a lesbian bar in Crowe.”

  “You know?”

  “Hockey fan.”

  “Well that expins the name.”

  “Brock is kind of our little lost puppy friend. He kept showing up after he said he met this girl here and wanted to know more about her, isn’t that right?”

  “Its, uh. Her.”

  “NO.” The three dolls around me gasped. “This is too good,” Sophie said.

  “I met his sister at the bar st time I was here.”

  “Then her friends got sick. Right when I came over to say hi.”

  “Bad timing?” I said shrugging.

  “Brock mentioned it to us ter that night. Then he showed up a few days ter. We all go to school here and he just kept being around. It was weird at first, but then he told us about his sister Sapphire and we all vibed.”

  “A lot of my friends I met through her are dolls.”

  “He’s, like, the only cis guy we’d ever befriend,” Jordyn said.

  “I’m honored,” Brock said, smiling. Gosh he was so fucking cute. Be cool Rhea, though. You’re literally in the type of scenario that could blow up in your face.

  “So you kept coming here, despite being in Olympic City looking for me? Little weird!”

  He was blushing. I made him blush. Oh my god.

  “Sorry,” he said in a whisper.

  “I mean its fine. I guess I should be gd that you kept coming back. And that I like boys.”

  “I did tell you it wasn’t a guarantee buddy, but hey. I’m gd we met,” Sophie said directly to him. “We’re going to go back on the dancefloor, why don’t you two talk.” That minx said with a wink not even attempting to be subtle.

  “I’d like that.”

  I would too, but fuck I’m not about to py with fire. Think Rhea, think. Find a way out.

  “So, how did you know Manon Rheaume existed? Aren’t you like 19?” Smooth one, you fucking idiot.

  “I’m 23 thank you very much, and she’s like one of the greatest goalies of all time, how would I not know about her?”

  “Well she pyed for Tampa when we were like two, first of all. And guys don’t follow women’s hockey.”

  “I’m not most guys.”

  “The guys that say that are very much most guys,” I said hoping to drive him off. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t flirt with the guy I was head over heels for. Not when I was quite literally deceiving him. He’d never forgive me. This is what would literally get me killed. International scandal. Teammate kills starting goalie when she crossdressed and secretly hit on him. He’d get acquitted too. The jury would have a field day letting him off. And he’d probably be a bigger star because of it. Some podcast would bring him international fame. Maybe I should have him brutally murder me. Get him that payday. And a media career.

  Bad Rhea. Bad bad Rhea. Literally the most fucked up thoughts you could have. You like a guy so much that you convince yourself to make him into a violent transphobe so he could cash in on it. When he has a trans sister. And would definitely understand about you.

  “Hah, fair.” He was smiling. I made him smile.

  “So, don’t you have some game or something what are you doing out here?”

  “Well. I mean besides being a total fucking creep and wanting to see you again and actually talk to you, I guess I just prefer queer bars? I would go with Saph - my sister - in college since she hung around the area while transitioning, and I just always felt safer? And could be a real person here not just some hockey prospect women wanted to fuck. I’m not like a chaser or anything I promise. I know I probably seem creepy for saying I, a straight man, prefer queer bars? But there’s no pretense and I can just be myself. You know what I mean?”

  “Weirdly, I do.”

  “Oh, thank god. I thought I sounded fucking creepy.”

  “No, you’re fine. Its sweet. In a way,” just py coy Rhea. But not too coy. Don’t make him like you. Just be a person. It’ll get awkward and he’ll leave. Then you can find your friends and just move on.

  “Sapphire is literally my world. I’m so proud of her, transitioning being an athlete. Its so fucking brave. I just cannot stand most guys in hockey.”

  “You make it sound so terrible.”

  “It kind of is? I mean I love the team I’m on. Its full of great people. I’m so fucking lucky I’m not in Boise anymore. I cannot tell you how incredible a few of those guys are.”

  “Sounds like it.”

  “I mean, you named yourself after a hockey pyer, you have to understand. The culture of this sport is just so fucked.”

  You have no fucking idea Brock.

  Pying coy around Brock turns out to be surprisingly easy, without outing myself.

  I could invent an entirely new persona and just py off tonight as a fluke and never admit to him or myself that we know each other and are pretty close all things considered. We would never have to relive that night I slept on his couch and the fact that I have been longing for the man in a way that would make even Jenna’s deepest desires probably blush. It could be a one time meet cute where two people flirt in a bar, say they’ll call each other and then never talk to one another again. That’s normal life. I could use a little bit of normal life.

  But of course, my brain decided to go in an entirely different direction. After pying off that I pyed college hockey - thank goodness for women’s hockey not being as popur as men’s there were absolutely no follow up questions which I will chalk up to a rare win for good old misogyny - Brock started asking mostly about what I liked in Olympic City. Thankfully the town was small, but not small enough that I had enough hidden gems I could reveal I went to without tipping my hand. But him asking this made one thing clear, he was gearing up to either ask me to dance or to ask me out again. And I do not know if I could say no.

  The bar we were in was a little warm, and I could see the sweat on his brow glistening in the bcklights that dominated the decor. It was like he glowed, literally, for me and I just wanted to rub my cheek next to his just to get some of his scent on me. I wanted to cim him. The more I drank the more inhibition I had lost and I wanted to jump this man’s bones and show him the best sex he would ever have. Not that I was anything more than an inexperienced still baby trans girl, but I was a fucking professional athlete. I stood in front of literal projectiles. I could take one more, one that I desired. He may have to go back door to accomplish his wishes, but my butterfly hybrid stance allowed me to shift whoever I needed to let that happen, or stop him in his tracks if he was not a good boy.

  Down girl. This was not just a risk, but reckless. And being reckless is not what makes a good goalie. Risky, sure. You don’t slide across the crease with the dexterity no one on earth can ever manage without taking some risks with what you body can handle, but pretending to be someone else to kiss your teammate because you’re so in love with them and they do not know your true self? What are you fucking thinking.

  “I should probably get back to my friends,” I said coyly mentioning over towards Lia hoping that Brock wouldn’t notice anyone.

  “Holy shit, is that Riley Strauss? Is she with? No.”

  How is he this perceptive? What the actual fuck.

  “You know her?”

  “I could be asking her that. She’s hooking up or something with a friend of a friend. My friend Lia over there’s best friend works with that other girl. I met them all tonight.”

  “Small world. She’s the beat reporter for the team I’m on. I should say hi!”

  “No that’s a terrible idea.”

  “And…why would that be, stranger?”

  “I have friends who are journalists. They don’t love doing work off the clock. Plus she looks like she’s, occupied…you know?”

  “Okay that’s fair. You just seemed very intent for me not to know anyone you came with.”

  “Well I don’t really know them! It would be weird! I don’t want to seem too forward to them.”

  “Uh, huh.”

  “What!”

  “I don’t know Rhea, there’s something about you though. Its cute. I wish you weren’t trying to run away from me.”

  This fucker is way too perceptive for his own good. I am going to have to let his stupid sister know so she can throw him off the scent. She’s going to find this fucking hirious, too, I bet. I would like this to not have to be on my agenda before our next road trip.

  “I’m not! I just don’t know you!”

  “Well let’s change that. Come back to my pce.”

  “That’s…forward.”

  “What? You’re cute. Most girls are always fawning over me. I figured I’d just ask. I am not interested in hooking up. You do not meet many girl hockey pyers just like in life. I figure we’d chat and hang out. Plus, I have a road trip tomorrow.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Seattle, Olympia and Portnd. We’re close to locking up a pyoff seed. I can feel it.”

  “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

  “You absolutely would not be intruding. Plus I was the one who was looking for you like a lost puppy. I feel like I have to clear that up so you don’t think I’m creepy.”

  “And inviting me over is clearly going to do that?”

  “Like I said, I have girls fawning over me.”

  “Someone’s sure of themself.”

  “Its true. I don’t love it. I figured I’d just cut the bullshit and see if you wanted to hang out.”

  “Look, I appreciate it. And you are being genuinely nice and I loved talking to you. I just. I don’t know.”

  “Come on, Rhea. Please?”

  He turned on the puppy dog eyes. This guy had me right where he wanted.

  “Please?”

  “It is the magic word!”

  “I want to say yes. I do. Just, not tonight. This next week I have a lot going on and I’m just hoping to spend some time with my friends. How about we meet here in like a week or something?”

  “Thats our st home game. I don’t think I have time. Plus we’ll go back out on the road.”

  “I’m sorry, pretty boy. Looks like that wraparound isn’t going to work this time.”

  Fuck. You absolutely have to be kidding me. I didn’t just trip and lose the gss slipper, I practically threw it at his face. Broadcasting that he’s hitting on his own teammate. Not just a singur reference, but one to a literal moment we bonded over and explicitly has tied us together for our careers until one or both of us wins something else. If Brock had any sort of suspicions, and he showed himself to not be a normal cis oblivious man, they were gone. I had essentially handed him my number with a note that said “compare it to your friend Marksy’s! You may find something interesting!”

  So instead of waiting for him to respond, I literally ran. I grabbed Lia by the hand and dragged her out of the bar. I did not pay attention to her screams and anger at me spilling her drink. I dragger her all the way to her car, opened the door, there her in the front seat and dropping all sort of voice training I had practiced and said “Drive” in the deepest voice I could manage, not even considering the three other friends we were leaving in our wake. They were the furthest thing from mattering in this moment and possibly forever.