43. Cheer The Fuck Up
43
CHEER THE FUCK UP
SETH
The past ten days have been a complete nightmare. Ever since the game against Toronto, it’s like I’m a powder keg, waiting to explode. I can’t tell if it’s just my own emotions or if a secret memo has gone out telling players on the other teams to piss me off, but I’ve been in more fights this last week and a half than the last year combined. Did these assholes always chirp so much, or am I just overly sensitive?
Either way, Coach has had enough and now I’m sitting in his office before our first home game in two weeks.
“What’s going on with you?” he asks, his tone exasperated, while he looks at me from the other side of his desk.
“Nothing,” I mumble, feeling like a kid being dragged into the principal’s office.
“Bullshit, Davidson, you’ve been distracted, picking fights and acting like a dick for weeks. Do I need to strip you of that C on your jersey? Or move you off the first line?”
“No, Coach.” I shake my head, looking down at my hands.
“Well, I’d better see a change in your attitude the next few games, or we’re going to be having a very serious conversation later, you hear me?”
How is it that this man, only a decade older than me, can make me feel like I’m being told off by my father?
I nod, determined to get my shit together so that I don’t have to go through this again. Or, god forbid, get sent off for counselling again.
“Good. Now get out of my office and get your ass ready for the game.”
I hightail it out of his office, heading for the dressing room, where Linc is waiting, leaning against the door frame with a raised brow.
“How’d that go?”
I brush past him, sliding my suit jacket off on the way to my locker. “About as well as you could expect. I’m basically on probation without being on probation.”
Dean sidles over, taking a seat on the bench beside me. “That C up for grabs yet?” he asks with a smirk.
“Fuck off,” I grumble, ignoring his laugh.
“So grouchy lately. Hopefully you cheer the fuck up soon.” He saunters off, and I clench my jaw, glaring at his back before continuing to get ready.
Ignoring everyone around me, my mind wanders back to last night. I’d sat staring at my phone for what was probably a good hour, trying to work up the courage to call Kylie. In the end, I’d chickened out, resorting to a text that simply asked how she was. I still haven’t had a reply, which has been weighing on my mind ever since. With the time difference, it would have been mid morning when she received it, and she’s always been one to respond to texts quickly, so my mind has been in overdrive, spinning every scenario possible. When did I turn into the kind of person who obsessed over a simple text message?
Probably around the time that I fell head over heels in love with this woman and was stupid enough to let her walk away without telling her how I really feel.
Eventually, we’re given the heads up to make our way down the tunnel ahead of warm up, and I finish getting ready before leading the way out of the locker room.
Even with everything going on in my personal life, when the announcer hypes up the crowd, the adrenaline that hits at the start of every game gives me the usual boost, and I hit the ice ahead of the rest of the team. Rock music pumps through the arena, setting the mood, and after circling our half of the rink for a few laps, we peel off, going in different directions. I head towards the bench, aiming for our equipment manager, who is holding out a bucket of pucks for me. Retrieving the bucket, I head back and empty it out, letting the pucks drop to the ice, and my teammates claim them, firing them towards Dean to get him warmed up. Linc skates over, positioning himself between me and Anders, taking a shot before turning to me.
“Have you checked out the signs yet?”
I glance over at him. “Um, no. Why?” In all our years of playing hockey together, he has never once asked me that.
It’s weird.
I launch a puck at Dean, who catches it deftly in his glove and prepares for the next person.
“I just thought there might be one or two that you’d be interested in.” Linc shrugs, leaning on his stick.
“Why are you being weird?” I ask, using my stick to drag another puck from the pile closer to me.
Linc sighs. “Just go and look at the signs near the bench. You exhaust me.”
I hit the puck and look at Linc again. “ I exhaust you ? What the hell did I do? ”
“For fuck’s sake, Seth. Look at the signs,” he replies, hitting his own puck with far more aggression than is necessary.
Dean catches it. “That was a bit hard there, buddy,” he chirps at Linc.
Linc points at him. “Don’t you start with me.”
Having absolutely no idea what is going on, I head back towards the bench. Figuring I must have missed something, I do a quick scan of the fans who line the glass, holding up their signs. There’s the usual ones saying hi from various places around the world, fans that have come from overseas and are just excited to be here.
I can’t see anything that warrants Linc’s little tantrum, though.
Shaking my head, I grab my water bottle from the top of the boards and lift it to squirt it into my mouth, pausing when a movement to my left catches my eye.
Turning my head, I’m met with a massive sign pressed up against the glass on the side of the bench, obscuring the person holding it from view.
Seth Davidson - Ask me to stay!
I read the sign a few times, trying to process the words. A whisper of recognition sneaks into the back of my mind, and I skate to the glass, peaking around to see if my suspicions are right.
There, standing in front of the same seat where I saw her that first game, is Kylie. She grins, those gorgeous green eyes filled with mischief, and I wonder what my face must look like to her.
How is she here right now?
Wondering if I’m dreaming, I press my hand against the glass, oblivious to the people around her, while she moves closer and raises her hand against the glass opposite mine. My heart feels like it’s about to hammer right out of my chest.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, raising my voice in the hopes she’ll hear me through the glass .
“Didn’t you read the sign?” she replies, lifting it up again.
All I can think about is wrapping my arms around her, and it’s killing me that I can’t touch her.
Linc skates up beside me. “Finally,” he says, his grin wide, and he leans his shoulder against the glass next to the sign. “So. Are you going to ask her the question that you should have asked her months ago?”
“You,” I point at Kylie. “You better be waiting for me out the back after this game.”
“Nah, I got a hot date,” she replies with a smirk.
“Don’t play with him too much, Kyles. He’s been pretty delicate.”
“You, stop talking.” I point at Linc before turning back to Kylie. “You, don’t be a brat.”
“Shouldn’t you be stretching?” she replies, waving towards the ice behind me.
“You just want to check out his ass,” Linc says.
“Correct. I guess yours is okay as well.” She grins.
“Do not check out his ass,” I reply, and they both laugh.
Not ready to leave her, but knowing I need to finish warming up, I push off from the glass, finally seeing Ben and Adele standing nearby and giving them a wave. Slapping my hand against the glass once again before heading off towards the net, I don’t even try to keep the stupid grin off my face.
“Wow, if I’d known that was what it took to get you out of your crappy mood, I’d have held a lame sign up and played handsies through the glass with you weeks ago,” Dean says with a smirk when I come to a stop beside him.
“You can be such a douche, you know that?”
“Yep, and you love it.” He claps me on the back, and I shake my head.
Maybe things will work out, after all. I’ve never wanted a game to be over so fast, but knowing she’s watching has me ready to play the best game of my life.