Chapter 5 – Jordan #2
I take another sip of coffee, loosening the words. It’s not my smoothest delivery, but I get the words out. “Our hockey program was pulled.”
There’s an instant rush of relief.
It shouldn’t feel good admitting the truth, but it does.
“Are you okay?” is their first response.
“When did this happen?” Sutton reaches a hand over, squeezing my knee. Hazel eyes soften as they meet mine. If anyone can understand how it feels to have something ripped away from you, it’s her.
I fill them in on the past week, ending with Luka’s little drop-in visit. “He’s delusional if he thinks I’d forget my boyfriend seducing me in the penalty box.”
“Is that on your bucket list? That’s a good one,” Elliot blurts. Sutton sighs. “Sorry! Continue.”
“You’re fine,” I assure her before continuing.
“Luka skated me into the box, latching the door before dropping to his knees. His teammates hadn’t even cleared the ice before he started telling me how hot it was that I scored and that I’m probably better than most of his teammates.
He was undoing the tie on my joggers when he glanced up at me and wished I was on their team.
We were interrupted, but hindsight that was probably for the best.”
“I hate him.”
“Join the club,” Sutton agrees. “Wanna be a member?” The question is directed at me.
“Consider me the president.” My smile is tight.
“Why don’t you join the men’s team?” Sutton unfolds her clasped hands, fiddling with her straw. “You’re good enough. Don’t tell your brother, but you might be a better skater than him.”
“Not faster.”
“So? What does that have to do with anything?” Elliot questions.
“Because men’s and women’s hockey is diff—”
She snorts, finishing my sentence this time. “Different.”
“Physically, yeah, it is.”
“But the rules are the same?”
“Basically. But it doesn’t matter.” I take a sip of coffee, clearing my throat. “Their roster is full, and what am I supposed to do? Demand a spot? This isn’t a movie where I can dress up as Cooper and play.”
“No, it’s not. But…” Sutton perks up, fishes her phone out.
“Cooper told me last night that they are hosting open tryouts this season. Apparently, something about recruiting and…budget cuts.” She places her phone on the table.
The calendar app pulled up, pointing to a date in September. “They’re a month from today.”
“Jordan’s trying out for the men’s team. Jordan’s gonna beat the boys,” Elliot sing-songs.
“Elliot.” She stops as Sutton continues, “I can float the idea by your brother. He’d help you prep—”
“No,” I say firmly. Luka’s laugh crackles like lightning in my head. The last thing I want is my brother to doubt me, laughing at me. “I can ask him,” I say anyway.
“But you’ll do it?” she asks with an eagerness.
“Yes, but you have to promise not to tell anyone.”
In unison, they sing Elliot’s jingle before I die of embarrassment and change the subject. “Any plans for senior year, E?”
“That.” She points in the direction of the main entrance, the bell above the door chimes, and in walks Kendall, quarterback of the football team.
She catches his attention just as she catches everyone’s attention.
Beautiful and loud, unapologetically herself.
Kendall waves in her direction, she flicks him a wink and shakes her phone.
His head dips to the screen, and fingers fire away.
Sutton rolls her eyes as we finish catching up about her internship before we walk back to campus. My phone buzzes inside my running pouch. Too bad the notification pops up on my watch.
Luka
You have to reply to me, it’s my birthday tomorrow. Think of it as your present to me.
I ordered another coffee before leaving and got one for Xanie.
She’s a Personal Care Assistant at the hospital in Bensen. Over the spring semester, around our hockey schedule, Xan completed her training and certificate programming.
When I left to go running with Sutton, she was still napping from her second ten-hour night shift in the emergency room this week.
Xanie wants to be a trauma nurse, which could never be me.
I can barely get through an episode of Grey’s without shutting one eye and squinting the other or covering my eyes from the gore.
Blood, bone protrusions, any of that isn’t for me. I used to faint at the sight of blood as a kid. I thought I had grown out of it till Xanie put on some movie one night, and within the first three minutes, someone’s head was decapitated.
She’s folding clothes in her bedroom when I get back. I sneak the coffee around her, warm from her surprised gasp. “You’re an angel.”
“Only sometimes,” I joke, heading back into the common area of our suite—a small living room, kitchenette, and enough space for an oval table that neither of us eat at, preferring the couch.
“There’s a package for you by the way.”
I shift to where the package is resting, fishing the box opener from our junk drawer. Mom’s delicate cursive is printed on the side. Stuffed around my figure skates are miscellaneous trinkets. Items I probably don’t need, but Mom found on one of her latest thrift and Marshalls hunts.
“I’ll be taking these.” Xanie plucks out a bag of my favorite gummy bears, sneaking up on me. She sticks her tongue out as she pads back into her bedroom. I stick my tongue back at her, ripping open another bag.
I pull the laces through my fingers, losing myself in the white of the skates.
I used to think there was nothing better than the feeling of skating on fresh ice, but there is.
The sound of a buzzer, a roaring crowd, the rush of a perfectly timed play, killing a power play, sweat dripping from your helmet down your back.
Pulling myself away, I go to the whiteboard calendar Xanie keeps on our fridge. The first half of September is already written up there. I circle the date and scribble: men’s hockey tryouts.
When I turn around, Xanie is leaning on her door frame, a proud grin on her face. My features relax to mirror hers.
“That deserves to be celebrated.” Raising the hanger in her hands, an orange and teal mini skirt with multi-colored seashells stitched into the fabric isn’t what catches my eye. The coconut bra hanging over it does. “We’re going out, and you’re wearing this.”