Chapter 7 Jacks #2
PuckingSkylerShaw: It’s . . . displayed. Tastefully. Your poster, on the other hand, might have a frame. A black one. It’s very manly.
jacks_mills_52: “Displayed tastefully” is not the defense you think it is.
PuckingSkylerShaw: I’m starting to regret this conversation.
jacks_mills_52: Too late. You slid into MY DMs. You’re committed now.
A laugh escaped before I could stop it. I was alone in my apartment, cackling at my phone like someone who needed professional help.
I probably did.
This was him. This was actually him.
No catfish would have this exact energy, this specific combination of defensive and self-deprecating humor. I’d talked to Skyler enough to recognize his voice, even in text form.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Give a guy a break. I’ve been on the road for two weeks, and this flight will never end. I was bored out of my mind and you were there.
jacks_mills_52: Wow. He’s a demon on the ice and with mediocre compliments that make a guy feel all shriveled from winter.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Ha ha. You’re worse than the assholes on my team. You know that, right?
jacks_mills_52: I was a football player. We have a lot more idiots in uniform than you puck boys. Trust me when I say you’ve got no game when it comes to shit-talk with a football player.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Fine. New topic. How was work tonight?
How was work?
Did Skyler Shaw actually ask, “How was your day, dear?” Okay, maybe I internalized that last part, but still . . . Was this normal “casual acquaintance” conversation over DM while he’s 30,000 feet in the air at midnight on a Friday? I was unclear of the etiquette here.
I shrugged mentally and chose to barrel forward, answering his question as though he hadn’t just air-kissed my cheeks and tossed his keys in the bowl by the front door.
jacks_mills_52: Chaotic. Some guy tried to impress his date by claiming he was a part-time astronaut.
PuckingSkylerShaw: A what? That sounds like Murph.
jacks_mills_52: Part-time astronaut. Also, a hedge fund manager. Also possibly a European duke. Oh, and he climbed Everest twice without oxygen.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Please tell me you’re joking.
jacks_mills_52: You think I could make this shit up? I’m a baller, not a writer. His date googled him mid-sentence and left through the bathroom without so much as a “thanks for the dinner.”
PuckingSkylerShaw: That might be the greatest thing I’ve ever heard.
PuckingSkylerShaw: I need more details.
So I told him.
I replayed the whole insane story, from the overheard conversation to the escalating lies to Benji’s “Rest in peace, Space Duke” eulogy after he left. Skyler responded with a string of laughing emojis and demands for clarification.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Wait, he said the aurora photos were CLASSIFIED?
jacks_mills_52: National security concerns. Very serious astronaut stuff.
PuckingSkylerShaw: I’m dying.
PuckingSkylerShaw: I’m actually dying.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Murph is going to lose his mind when I tell him this.
jacks_mills_52: Speaking of, aren’t you guys on a plane right now? How do you have service?
PuckingSkylerShaw: We landed like an hour ago. I’m home.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Couldn’t sleep. Took allergy meds and they wired me worse than Whitney before a concert.
jacks_mills_52: Damn, that was cold.
jacks_mills_52: But funny.
jacks_mills_52: So you decided to message random barbacks at midnight?
PuckingSkylerShaw: Not random. One specific barback.
Something about that made my stomach flip.
Specific.
He’d specifically wanted to message me.
I knew I was reading too much into all this. Skyler was bored and awake and wanted someone to talk to who wasn’t a teammate. That was all. There was nothing special about me.
jacks_mills_52: Well, I’m honored to be your insomnia entertainment.
PuckingSkylerShaw: You should be. I was playing Angry Birds before this. You’re a significant upgrade.
jacks_mills_52: Dude, the bar was literally on the floor.
PuckingSkylerShaw: And yet you cleared it.
Despite me seeing three screens in my hand, we talked for another hour.
He told me about the road trip, the prank Murph pulled on Erik, and the win streak they were riding.
I told him about the glitter incident from a few weeks back, about Finn and Chase’s ongoing wedding planning debates, and about the regular who’d proposed to his boyfriend at the bar last month.
It was easy, talking to Skyler. Talking to Skyler Shaw, NHL captain, multimillionaire athlete and verified celebrity, was easy. He didn’t feel famous when he typed in all caps about Space Duke or sent face-plant emojis when I mentioned that we’d run out of the good whiskey last week.
He didn’t feel like some stranger I watched on TV.
He felt like a friend.
A friend I’d known for years instead of weeks.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Okay, I should try to sleep. Practice tomorrow.
jacks_mills_52: Right. Yeah. Go be a responsible professional athlete.
PuckingSkylerShaw: The worst part of the job, honestly.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Hey, can I get your number? Texting is easier than Instagram.
My thumb hovered over the keyboard.
This was a line, maybe, wasn’t it? It felt like a line.
A small one, but still.
Moving from Instagram to actual texting felt different somehow.
More real.
More personal.
But I was already typing.
jacks_mills_52: Yeah, sure.
I sent my number. He responded with a thumbs-up emoji and a “Night, Jacks.”
I stared at those two words for way too long.
Then my phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number.
Unknown: Testing, testing. Is this thing on?
I saved the contact under Skyler Shaw, then returned to the text.
Then returned to the contact entry and replaced his name with PuckingSkylerShaw.
That had me grinning so wide my cheeks ached.
Me: Nope. Wrong number. This is a Wendy’s.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Perfect. I’ll take a Frosty and some nuggets.
Me: Sir, this is the morgue.
PuckingSkylerShaw: But I’m not dead yet.
Me: Fuck me. Did you go all Monty Python on me?
PuckingSkylerShaw: Now I’m actually impressed. If you start bangin’ two coconuts together, I might propose.
Me: Jesus. You’re a disaster.
PuckingSkylerShaw: A good disaster? Never mind. Don’t answer. Unless you do it “with big pointy teeth.”
Me: You’re impossible! Go. Sleep. Be athletic.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Aye aye, captain.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Wait I’m the captain.
PuckingSkylerShaw: This is confusing.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Good night, Jacks.
Me: Night, Skyler.
I set the phone down and stared at the ceiling.
Skyler Shaw was in my contacts.
Skyler Shaw had my number.
Skyler Shaw had messaged me at midnight because he couldn’t sleep and wanted to talk.
To me.
None of this meant anything. Famous people made friends all the time. He was friendly, I was friendly, and we had things in common to talk about. This was normal.
My phone buzzed one more time.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Also . . . I watched that bottle flip video like ten times. The way it bounces off your forehead is chef’s kiss.
I grinned at the ceiling like an idiot.
Completely normal.
Absolutely meaningless.
I fell asleep on the couch with my phone still in my hand.