Chapter 22 Ben #2
He went through all the pregame warm-ups with the team today. Instead of getting the cold shoulder, he was applauded for his honesty. Although Evans was still a complete asshole about it, but whatever. He gave a pep talk to the team before returning home for my favourite ritual—the pregame nap.
Now we’re driving to the rink again, a little later than he’d normally go, since he won’t be dressing and doesn’t need the time to get in his headspace.
And we’re driving together. It’s the first time we’ll walk into the rink hand in hand. While I don’t have anything to signal that I’m the mascot, it feels like an enormous shift in our relationship.
“I get to watch you live tonight. Not on a phone screen or a sneak-peek at your routine. Live.” He beams a smile my way. “I’m so excited.”
“Really?”
“Well, yeah. Now that everyone knows about us, I don’t have to sneak around about it or get James to send me videos. I can cheer for you.”
The way he just says that, like it’s the best thing to ever happen to him, makes me feel fuzzier than the outside of my beaver suit. He means it. He won’t be sitting back in his seat. Lukas will be the one hooting from his seat and clapping the whole time.
“Are you blushing right now?”
His shoulder bumps mine as we enter the player doors and nod to the security men.
“No, beavers don’t blush.” I push at his solid chest, but he holds his ground. “Thank you,” I whisper. “For everything.”
He places a sweet kiss on my nose. “Anything for you, Ben.” He leaves me at my change room like he didn’t just send my heart into a tailspin.
“Beavers don’t blush,” I mutter as I begin my pregame stretches. “But boyfriends not used to this kind of thing do.”
The game is a rough one, and I know Lukas wishes he were on the ice.
Despite being excited to cheer for me, I caught him shaking his head and throwing his hands in the air at the action in front of him more than once. Honestly, I can understand his frustration. There’s an opposing player who is an absolute douche, and he needs a good punch in the face.
Or a stick to the ribs. Whatever. I might not know hockey well, but I know there are ways.
With five minutes remaining in the second period, I haul beaver ass to the booth with the game MCs to make sure my props are in place, and they all know the script for my performance.
Every time I talk to them, it feels weird.
They’re the only people I talk to for the entire game with the Slappy head on.
“I’m loving this, Slappy!” The guy with blond hair says. “I’ve got your stuff all set.”
“How are you at improv? That number five on the other team is a dick. I want to poke at him a little,” I ask, and the group laughs.
“I know. Too bad Pine is out tonight. He’d have made him bleed already.”
Totally true. I’ve watched Lukas. He would’ve spent more minutes in the penalty box than on the ice by now.
The sin bin, as they call it. Honestly, I don’t get that name.
Is it a sin to break a rule in a game? Seems a tad dramatic, but that’s hockey, I suppose.
Part skill, part athleticism, and part acting.
“Do we have a printer handy?”
“Yeah, I can improv. What are you thinking?” The blond guy says.
“I can print if you’re fast.” The girl offers from the corner.
Turning towards her, I give her my instructions. “Print number five’s face or number. Enough for each target. If Pine can’t punch him, I can slap him.”
With a laugh, she flies off, promising to have what I need at ice level in the next seven minutes.
“The silk comes down tonight. I’ll meet you on the ice.”
I don’t wait for the man to reply. Instead, I detour quickly to the washroom. You can’t concentrate on justice with a full bladder.
On the way to ice level, I crane my neck to search for Lukas, and he’s still in the same spot. Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, and waiting like much of the crowd for my performance. When he sees me, he gives me the most adorable wave, and I make a heart with my hands.
“Fans, tonight we have a twist on Slappy’s target game. Before I tell you what that is, I need to ask you this. Do you miss our captain tonight?”
When a loud cheer rises, I glance up, and Lukas waves.
“Slappy wants to fill in for him tonight. What do you think?” The blond announcer holds up the opposing team’s jersey with the number five on the back. There’s a riot of laughs and cheers as the other helpers move to tape photos of him over the targets I aim at with the balls.
While they do that, I make a show of flexing my biceps and bouncing like a boxer on my toes. It’s the loudest the crowd has ever been, and I just hope I don’t fuck it up.
The crowd favourite is always when I smack the ball into the target with my tail while holding a one-armed handstand. Thankfully, it’s also what I’m best at. The first ball smacks the target, and the crowd goes wild.
“Slappy, here comes ball two!”
That smack goes a little wide and only catches part of the target. I lower myself back to my feet and whisper in the announcer’s ear, then motion for them to drop my silk from the rafter.
“Slappy says he needs to make the third target count. Do you think he can do it from his silk?”
A chorus of cheers and whistles, along with shouts of encouragement, sounds as I pull myself up into the silk and drop my tail on the ice. I don’t know how I’m going to make this work yet, but I’ve always done well on the spur of the moment.
I give a thumbs up to start the music, Eye of the Tiger, which fits well.
I pull myself into the material, the euphoria of performing taking over as I move through a series of poses to entertain as well as energize.
While upside down and spinning, I clap my hands together, urging the crowd to get behind me for the last shot at number five.
With the crowd on their feet, I move back up the silk and hold a pose like an archer drawing back a bow, and that’s when my plan comes together.
I swoop lower and time it to the music so the announcer tosses me the ball.
I tuck it inside my suit before pulling myself up again into an archer’s pose, before gracefully diving out of the silks.
I roll out quickly, and the gasps of the audience bring a smile to my face as I hook my back leg around the silk, reach into my suit and grab the ball. While half upside down, I draw my arm back and throw at the target.
The ball crushes the paper target, and I release my leg to drop all the way to the ground. After resuming my boxer pose, the announcer grabs my wrist and holds my hand in the air like I won the round. The crowd loves it.
“You drew a crowd from the other team.” The announcer whispers, and I glance at the visitor’s bench. Number five claps along with a few other team members, so I blow them a kiss. That draws more laughter from the fans and even the opposing players.
I quickly bow before collecting my tail, and I turn my gaze to where Lukas sits. He’s clapping and smiling, and if I’m not mistaken…proud. I make the heart sign to him again before exiting the ice.
If he can’t be out there to put number five in his place, I’ve got his back. Not just with this. With everything.
After clipping my tail back on with shaking hands, I smile to myself.
Beavers mate for life, and this beaver chose a hockey player.
I’ll fight for him every time. In every way possible. Even by slapping paper faces of the player on the ice he should be handling.
I’m pretty sure there’s no better way to express my commitment.