Hank
I roll up to practice with a heavy load of nerves sloshing around my stomach.
Is Nick going to show? Ever since we met a few days ago, we shared a few texts about getting him set up as my new teammate: making sure he filled out paperwork with Marcy the rink owner, where to get hockey gear, relaying information about practice.
It’s been a very professional vibe, not like the fun buzz I got from chatting with him in person. When is it appropriate to start joking with someone on a text chain? Are we friends?
Do friends think about each other’s sparkling eyes?
In fairness to me, they were utterly transfixing. Staring into Nick’s eyes reminded me of looking into a kaleidoscope and getting lost in swirls of color.
A few years ago, while in the trenches of dating post-divorce, I kissed a guy at a New Year’s party and…
I liked it. I still like women, but I also liked that.
I’ve leaned into being bisexual a little bit more since then.
I went on a few dates with guys, and while they never led to second dates, I liked the energy of those evenings.
Although I can’t help worrying that in gay world, I’m a lousy first date.
I’m secure enough to appreciate male beauty.
Lots of gentlemen are handsome. Dashing.
Even sexy. I have no embarrassment about admitting that.
The Lord has blessed certain men with beautiful features.
Who are we to ignore his artistry? It’s not like all male tourists who visit The David in Italy are turned gay by one glimpse of his tight, marble ass.
Nick is merely a beautiful man. Beautiful eyes. Beautiful pouty lips. I’m friends with a lot of handsome men, and Nick will be another on that list.
“Hank!” calls out one such handsome friend, Bill Crandell. He comes up to me in the locker room while I change into my goalie gear. The amount of padding I have to put on makes me feel like I’m wearing one of those sumo wrestler costumes.
“Hey Bill! What’s up?”
Bill has short dark hair and a bushy dark beard and no time for bullshit. “You had Marcy put a new guy on our team?”
“Nick! He’s great!”
“He’s cool,” Griffin says, getting changed one bench over. That chills Bill out slightly.
“It’s a good idea to invite other people onto the team,” says Tanner, a winger on the team, as he searches through his bag. “None of us have backups.”
There’s truly nobody playing hockey who’s sweeter than Tanner. It’s amazing the aggression in the sport and the stress of raising four children never seeped into his spirit.
“Des, do you have my elbow pads?” Tanner puts a hand on the shoulder of Des, a man who’s so suave and charming, it’s like he came out of the womb wearing a suit and drinking a martini.
“Oh, yeah. I saw them on the counter, so I packed them. Here you go, babe.” Des reaches into his bag for the pads and kisses Tanner’s hand as he passes them over.
Besides being teammates and best friends, they married recently. It was originally to help Tanner and his kids out with an insurance issue, but they wound up falling in love for real. I got to be Des’s best man, and I was pretty great at it.
Seeing them have these quick moments of cuteness sometimes makes me miss having a significant other. And right now, it’s making me think of Nick.
Bill clears his throat. “Guys, remember: in the locker room, we’re just teammates.”
“Yeah, yeah. We know.” Des rolls his eyes. “It’s a good thing you have a boyfriend Bill or else I’d assume you were homophobic.”
Outside the rink, Bill is a VP at some fancy corporate company. He finally loosened up a little when his (now former) assistant Tate propositioned him on a business trip. They’re still together, and Bill can’t help show a slight grin whenever he hears Tate cheer for him at games.
“It’s nothing against you and Tanner. We don’t want our personal lives to upend any team dynamics.
It’d be the same thing if Tate decided to play for us, or Jack, or if Mitch had Charlie join the team, or Derek had Cary join the team, or…
” Bill points around to all the guys as he goes through their partners, but when he gets to me, he freezes.
We realize at the same time that I’m the only single guy left on the team. Awkward. It makes me feel even more like the funny best friend of the team. The funny best friend helps the main character find their happily ever after. They don’t get one of their own.
“Look,” Bill says, trying to change tracks. “My original point is that this Nick guy is unvetted. Do we want an unvetted player on our team?”
“You do remember this is an amateur league, right?” Des, always cool and collected, claps Bill on the shoulder.
He carefully hangs his designer winter coat on the hook.
Unlike me, he’s rich in life AND rich in bank account.
“We’re here to have fun. Oh wait, I forgot. You’re allergic to fun. My mistake.”
“Technically, our team is open for anyone to join,” says Derek, sipping the last bits of his iced coffee, an addiction he picked up from his boyfriend. He’s a big, burly fireman with a bushy beard. He changes next to Mitch, who’s also burly with a bushy beard.
“Is he a good guy?” Mitch asks me.
“Yes! He’s really nice. Friendly. Nice smile.” I bite my lip and blush, both at the admission and flashing back to Nick’s gorgeous grin. “I mean, he has all of his original teeth intact.”
“Then he can’t be that good,” Mitch jokes.
“He can’t just automatically join our team,” Bill says, stepping forward.
“I hate to ‘well actually’ you, but well actually…if there’s a player without a team, Marcy can put him anywhere,” I say. “She has more power than God.”
Marcy can be warm and maternal but also incredibly scary. The only woman who can intimidate a room full of grown hockey players.
“She figured Nick would make the most sense on our team. He’s about our age, and like all of us, he was looking to come back to hockey. Come. Back,” I say, pointing to two imaginary words in the air.
“What do we know about him? Can he play?” Bill asks me.
“He played in high school, just like us.” I leave out the part about Nick only having half a season of experience, as well as the part where I know zilch about his prowess on the ice. Griffin and I share a look, making sure we both stay mum.
“Where? St. Mary’s?” Bill asks.
“In Baltimore, I’m assuming.” Nick says he lives there now, but did he grow up there? It was hard to place his accent.
“You’re assuming?”
“He lives there now. He’s visiting family in Sourwood this month. He wanted a fun activity to do. There’re only so many festive markets a guy can attend.”
“So he’s just joining the team and then leaving?” The vein in Bill’s forehead protrudes with frustration.
“He’s allowed to do that.” I double-checked with Marcy before sending Nick her way.
“We’re excited to meet him,” Tanner says.
“He can take a hit,” Griffin assures Bill. “The guy got smacked in the head with a tree stump and was fine.”
Oddly enough, Bill seems to find some relief in that.
“He’s funny. He’s got a great sense of humor.” I smile at our conversation about sandwiches and tomatoes. Usually, my friends zone out while I go off on a restaurant-related tangent, but Nick soaked in every word.
“Hank, you’re going to confuse Bill. Funny? Sense of humor? He’s unfamiliar with these terms. You might as well be talking Mandarin to him.” Des beams with a sarcastic grin.
“Ha,” Bill deadpans. “Hank, if this guy sucks, I’m blaming you.”
“He’s not going to suck. He’s good! He has strong legs.” I feel a creep of blush fill my cheeks. I hadn’t realized that I clocked Nick’s legs in his tight jeans until just now. Again, the Lord’s artistry at work. I am simply a casual observer. That’s all.
Moments later, the locker room door swings open. Nick stands here in his puffy vest, flannel, and jeans, his hockey bag hanging in his hand, his hair mussed from wearing a hat. And those eyes…another turn of the kaleidoscope. I casually observe every inch of him.
“Am I in the right place?” he asks softly. Then I watch his whole face light up when he spots me.
“Welcome to the Comebacks!” I jump up from the bench and wobble over to him. I shake his hand. Smooth skin. Completely uncalloused. I’m inspired to use lotion. “Guys, this is Nick. Nick, you remember Griffin. That’s Des, Tanner, Mitch, Derek, and Bill our captain.”
The guys wave. Bill comes over and shakes Nick’s hand. I eye Bill to make sure he plays nice.
“Good to have you here while we can.” There’s a touch of sweetness in Bill’s tone. Despite his hard-ass demeanor, Bill is never cruel unless someone absolutely deserves it. He knows how to make guys feel included. “Hank says you used to be a helluva hockey player back in Baltimore.”
“I—well, I wouldn’t—” Nick stammers. Flustered is a cute look on him.
“Where’d you play?” Bill asks.
“I played for my high school team.”
“Which school? I have some family in the Baltimore area.”
“Oh. Small world. I played for…George Washington High School.”
Bill has Nick sweating bullets. He’ll soon learn Bill is all bark and no bite—unless you’re facing him on the ice. Then it’s all bark and all bite.
“Don’t be modest.” I elbow him in the side. “Nick was a kickass player. He barely let any goals in. You were telling me that one time when you did a full windmill glove save.”
Nick gulps back a nervous lump. I nudge him to go along with it. Bill seems impressed. “I…I did. It was a close game. The center was racing down the ice with a few seconds left. He hit the shot and I...blocked it. With a windmill glove save. And our team won. And that’s what happened.”
Bill studies him for a long second, and just when I think he’s going to call bullshit, he nods his head with respect. “Nice. Well, if you can play like that here, you’ll be my new best friend. Get dressed. We’re going to head onto the ice.”