Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Felix
“I’m so fucking stupid” is the first thing I say when Jared opens his front door to let me in. It’s the phrase that’s been playing on repeat in my head all afternoon, ever since I (stupidly) told Ari we’d all go to a hockey game together. Maybe even from before that.
“So you said earlier,” my calm, self-contained friend replies with his gentle smile. “Why don’t you come in and tell us all about it? Dáithí’s already declared that he’ll die if he doesn’t get an update soon.”
I hesitate midstep. “That’s not an actual thing for elves, is it? He’s not really going to die or anything?”
Jared shrugs and closes the door. “We all die sometime. It’s part of a grand cycle. But no, I don’t think elves actually die if they’re deprived of gossip.” We enter his kitchen just in time for Dáithí, who’s sitting at the table petting Jared’s cat, to hear that last part.
“It depends,” he volunteers. “For example, if you don’t immediately tell me what’s so important you insisted we meet tonight, I might go on a homicidal rampage that would probably end in my execution. So… death by gossip deprivation.”
Jared snorts. “That’s reaching.” He waves me to the table and goes to the fridge. “Soda? Or is this going to need something stronger?”
I consider that carefully. “How about soda with a shot of human liquor?” I’ll metabolize that so fast, it almost won’t have any effect on me, but it might act like a placebo for my brain.
Jared’s brows rise, but he doesn’t say anything, just gathers what’s needed. Dáithí, on the other hand, props his elbow on the table and his chin on his palm and stares at me intently.
Irritation rises. “Stop that.”
“I’m not doing anything. Tell your hormones to fuck off for a second, or we’ll never be able to help.”
I glare at him, because if it was that easy to keep my hormones under control, I wouldn’t be in this situation. Situations.
“Here.” Jared hands me a tall glass filled to the top, and I take a healthy slug as he sits across from me. “Now tell us everything. Today was the first day back after training camp, right?”
I nod, suddenly not knowing where to start. “Yeah.”
They exchange a glance I’m probably not supposed to see. “How was the new coach? Still playing things close to his chest?” Dáithí prompts.
“He fired two of the assistant coaches.”
“Okay,” Jared says slowly. “That’s not unusual, though. And I didn’t think you liked any of the coaching staff anyway.”
“I don’t. Didn’t. But I guess I figured he would have done it before now, and I wasn’t expecting it.
Then he kept me and some others back.” I fill them in on that conversation, and how I’m determined to pass Coach’s test. “I don’t know what exactly he wants me to prove, but I’ll prove it.
I can be a team player; I can be a spokesperson for the team; I can control my temper. ”
They both look dubious about the last one.
“I can!”
“It’s not that we think you don’t want to,” Dáithí soothes. “But the problem is your hormones. Does he know about that? That you’re still in puberty?”
I shrug awkwardly. Back when my reproductive puberty began, I mentioned it to one of the trainers, who suggested I should tell Coach.
He blew me off with the comment that “Maybe you’ll finally do some fucking damage on the ice.
” So I’m not all that confident about the idea of talking to my new coach, who I barely know, about it.
He’s not even a shifter, so he might not be familiar with how reproductive puberty works.
“You’re the one who has to make these decisions,” Jared adds, “but if your new coach thinks you’re just a ragey asshole, that’s going to impact how he treats you.”
“He might not care whether there’s a reason or not.” The words are dragged from me.
“Maybe. Which would make him the asshole. But you won’t know unless you tell him. Remember, sometimes worrying about scary things is scarier than the scary things are.”
I blink at him. “Is that something you say to your students? Did you just treat me like a six-year-old?”
His grin is sly. “Maybe.”
“This isn’t so bad,” Dáithí jumps in. “Your coach is testing you, but you know you can prove yourself. And if you’re lucky, when you tell him that you have a genuine physiological reason for being short-tempered and that it’s temporary, he might be on your side.
See? Problems solved.” He dusts off his palms.
I scoff. “I’m not done yet.”
“Did you beat up one of your teammates?” Jared sounds suitably sympathetic, which actually makes me laugh.
“No, not today. Best behavior, remember? But Lurlene in the office asked me for a favor, teaching hockey basics to a new staff member.”
“That’s a great way to show you’re a team player and an excellent representative for the team,” Dáithí points out.
I nod. “Yeah. Which is why I said yes. And then I found out it was Ari.”
“Ohh,” they say in unison. Jared leans forward, and I slump in my chair.
“It was terrible,” I tell them. “I’ve never given such a confusing explanation of hockey in my life. He just… like, he clearly didn’t want to be anywhere near me, didn’t want to be learning about hockey, and I was blathering on and on because I can’t be the reason the outreach program fails.”
“Lots to unpack there,” Jared mutters.
“The program won’t fail,” Dáithí insists. “Even if Ari hates working on it—which I’ll talk to Eoin about and get an update—he’s too much of an overachiever to let anything he does fail. Trust me on this. I’ve known him for a long time.”
“And even if it does fail, it wouldn’t be your fault,” Jared adds. “There are a lot of reasons why it might not work out, and your hockey explanation—which I doubt was as bad as you think—isn’t likely to be one of them.”
“It was bad.”
“How so?”
“I kept chopping back and forth between subjects. Like, we talked about shift changes, but not about any of the elements of play. Like, you know, scoring goals.”
“That’s not that bad. He’d have to know scoring goals is part of the game, right?” Dáithí asks. “Like, I know nothing about it, and I’d assume that goals or points or whatever come into it at some stage.”
I take another slug of my doctored soda. “Maybe. But the whole time, I felt like he hated me.” The instant the whiny, childish words are out, I wish I could call them back. “Never mind.”
“Was he rude to you?” Dáithí asks. “That’s not okay.”
“No… not exactly. He didn’t say anything bad.
Like, nothing anyone could complain about.
” I feel like such a whiner right now. Oh, boohoo, an adult who owes me nothing wasn’t friendly.
“He just… it was vibes. He was so clearly uncomfortable being there. He’d ask questions, but there was no…
chat. And his voice was all uptight.” I sigh.
“Ignore me. I’m being stupid. He’s allowed to not like me. ”
Again, my friends exchange a look.
“That does sound like something’s going on,” Dáithí concedes. “Ari’s not usually like that. I mean, I wouldn’t call him super fun, but he’s good with people. Diplomatic. Polite and friendly.”
I groan and knock back my drink. So great to know I’m the one who brings out Ari’s shitty side.
“I don’t know him as well as Dáithí, but I’ve got to agree. It might not be you, though. He wasn’t thrilled about this assignment to begin with, so that has to have an impact. He could also just have been having a bad day.”
“Or he was embarrassed because he wasn’t prepared,” Dáithí offers. “Some of those guys with senior rank are ridiculous about being prepared. I can totally see him thinking that he should have known everything there is to know about hockey and feeling like he’s failed because you had to teach him.”
I really want to believe that. It might even be true.
Pfft, who am I kidding?
“Yeah, well, anyway, I panicked because I felt like I was fucking it all up, and now we all have to go to a hockey game on Thursday.”
There’s a little silence while they unpack that.
“By ‘we all,’ you mean…,” Dáithí ventures, and I gesture.
“You and Eoin. Jared and the king. Me. And Ari. Jared, I need you to help me explain to him what’s happening on the ice.”
“Happy to help,” Jared assures me. “Are you sure this is a good idea? If Ari’s having some kind of internal crisis, putting it on display in front of his boss and his king isn’t going to make things better.”
“I know,” I groan. “What part of ‘I panicked’ are you missing? I was saying that it’s hard to understand some of the stuff I was talking about without seeing it in context, and next thing I know I was inviting him to see a human game.
And then I thought about how fucking awkward that would be, just the two of us in a sea of humans while I tried to explain hockey, and… ” I wave a hand. “Group night out.”
“You know that Eoin and I have no understanding of hockey, right?” Dáithí checks.
“We’re going to sit there like lumps. Plus, since Eoin isn’t likely to be distracted by the game, he’ll definitely notice if Ari starts being weird, and that’s going to—” He stops talking when a growl escapes my throat.
“Calm down, kitty,” Jared says. “There will be no mauling in my kitchen.” He turns to Dáithí. “I think it’s clear that Felix understands the implications of his actions, but we’re stuck with this plan now. We have to ride it out.”
Why did I think talking to my friends would make me feel better? Standing, I pace across the kitchen, shifting into my felid form along the way. Pacing is always better in cat form. Same with stalking. The biped form doesn’t have the same fluidity of hip movement.
“Aw, kitty,” Dáithí murmurs behind me. “Okay, how are we going to fix this?”
“We go to the hockey on Thursday,” Jared replies immediately. “Felix needs our support. It’ll also give us a chance to see how Ari acts around him. Fe, are you going to see him before then?”
I turn to pace back toward them and shake my head. It’s an odd gesture to make in this form, but the easiest way to be sure they understand me.
“So if he acts normal on Thursday, we still won’t know if it’s a you thing or if he was having a bad day today.”
Great. Though, I’m pretty sure he’s gonna be weird around me on Thursday too. The person my friends have described to me is someone I’ve never met, so this isn’t the first time he’s been not himself in my presence. Gotta love it when a good-looking, intelligent guy instantly hates me.
“I’ll get us tickets,” Jared continues. “Or I’ll tell Eoin to. He’s probably going to be pissy about the security, right, Dáithí?”
“Right. We’re all better off if it comes from Raeulfr. Actually, that might be a good idea—let’s make it seem like Ari’s presence is an afterthought. He might relax if the focus isn’t on him.”
I know I made a huge dramatic episode of this, but it might be possible that they’re the ones overthinking it now.
“Good plan. I’ll talk to Raeulfr tonight and tell him we’re having friends’ night out at the hockey game and that Ari should come to even the numbers and so he can learn about the game.”
“Make it sound like you want to set Ari up with Felix,” Dáithí suggests, and, in a move I haven’t experienced since I was an actual cub, I trip over my forepaws. By the time I’m back on my feet, I’ve shifted back to biped.
“What?”
Dáithí shrugs. “It’s just a thought. That would definitely throw them off the scent.”
“Absolutely not. If he thinks… No. Don’t do anything that could make this worse for me!”
“I’d never do that,” Jared promises. “Just leave it with me, and I’ll text you the details. Now come here, and let’s practice meditating again.”