The Friend Zone

Chapter Thirty-Nine: I Always Will

Starting Friday, Taylor went on this completely crazy tear, acting like it was already gameday. He got up at eight Friday morning to go for a run and then went to the gym after that and skated that afternoon. And he thought I was the crazy one for prepping for the Lake Forest games earlier in the season by prepping a day before just by eating right and getting my head in the game. He was gone for eight hours before he finally came back to his room at four that afternoon. I, of course, hadn't gone anywhere because of the whole, we went out the night before and I drank too much, thing but someone just had to get up at eight and make all kinds of noise. I figured we were even though after I ate the last of the Chinese takeout leftovers he had stashed in his fridge from two days before.

I was more than thankful for the fact that I had zero Friday classes this semester, it was nice to have a whole day to either recover or get homework done so I could focus on just having a good time all weekend, plus it was also nice to only miss one day of classes when we would leave for road trips on Thursday the last few months.

"You're nuts," I remarked as he came back into his room, "You left me here all alone."

"You're an adult, you know how to get back to your place," he laughed, taking off his headphones and setting them on the dresser.

"You woke me up at eight," I replied, "We didn't get to bed until four, which means I got a grand total of four hours of sleep."

"I didn't mean to, I just got up to go run," he replied.

"Did you really think I wasn't going to hear you rolling over and letting go of me and then rummaging through your dresser to find clothes?" I asked, giving him a look.

"I tried to be quiet, I really did," he replied with a wink.

"Sure," I grinned.

"You do know it's four and you're still in your pajamas, right?" he asked.

"Yes I do," I replied.

"Just making sure," he smirked.

"You nervous?" I asked.

"Nah," he replied, "I just want to make sure I'm prepared, you know? You've got to have legs in the third to win games."

"You sound like Coach Harris," I laughed, "Damn I watched you skate so many suicides with him."

Coach Harris was Taylor's coach back in Buffalo, the man coached the team all the way to the National Finals twice in Taylor's five years with the team and they won the league all five and Nationals once. Coach Harris always had a conditioned team. He always told the guys that he didn't care if they were outscored but they sure as hell weren't going to be outskated or lose because they were tired. The end of each practice would often resemble that scene from the movie Miracle after Team USA tied with the shitty Norwegian team in their exhibition match when Herb Brooks made them skate suicides until ungodly hours of the morning.

"I hurled on the bench so many times after practice," he laughed, "I miss that guy."
"Where is he coaching now?" I asked.

"Freaking Harvard," he laughed, "When I heard I was like no way in hell I'll ever get to play for him again."

"That's for sure," I laughed.

"Sometimes I wonder what it would've been like if I was smarter," he remarked, "I could've gone D1, could've gotten into a really good school. I don't know."

"Can't change anything now," I remarked, "And I, for the record, like you just the way you are and I like that we both ended up here. There's no way I could've gone D1, so I'm glad you're stuck here with me for the next four years," I smiled.

"But what happens in four years when I have to be in the real world? Every single decision I've made will determine what I do and how the rest of my life goes, you know? I don't know, I've just really been regretting all the stupid shit I did instead of focusing on school," he sighed.

"Did your dad call again yesterday?" I asked after a minute of painful silence.

Taylor's dad had a way of bringing him down to his lowest with one five minute phone call or one smartass comment. Whatever Taylor had accomplished in his 21 years was never praised by his father, according to him he could always do better. When he assisted on the goal that clinched the National Championship two years ago, his dad told him he should've shot the puck instead of making the pass to his linemate. When he started his college career with a 4 point game he told him he could've had at least two more goals and had 6 points instead of 4. Whenever Taylor's dad was around, he was tense, on edge for the entire period of time he was around. Whenever the bastard called, Taylor would start cutting himself down and getting down in the lowest of the lowest dumps and criticize anything from his grades to how he performed in the last game he played. His dad may have never laid a finger on Taylor or his brother or his mother but there was no doubt in my mind that the man was emotionally, verbally, and psychologically abusive to them all, but especially Taylor. He always seemed to get the brunt of it after his brother moved out and graduated when Taylor was 13, he was apparently more of an easy target than his brother was and often got blamed for anything that

"Why do you ask that?" he asked.

"Because your dad has a way of making you feel like shit," I replied, "Your first game in Buffalo when you got four assists, he said you could've done better, you could've gotten a goal instead of passing all the damn time," I remarked, "I will never forget that night, how shitty you felt the rest of the night and the next day. That bothered me more than anything had in a long time," I said quietly.

"Yeah he called last night before you got here," he sighed reluctantly.

"What'd he say?" I asked.

"Said he's coming tomorrow," he replied quietly, sitting down next to me, "Tess I don't know if I can play with him watching, with so much on the line, I, I don't know if I can do it. My head's not going to be all there and it's not fair to the rest of the guys."

"Don't you dare consider telling coach to sit you," I said, "You're going to go out there and absolutely kick ass, okay? And you're going to kick ass to show him what a dick he is but most of all you're going to kick ass because I'll be watching."

"You're always watching," he said, a grin creeping onto his face.

"You're damn right I am," I smiled.

"Thanks, Tess," he sighed, taking my hand in his.

"I believe in you Taylor," I said, leaning my head on his shoulder, "I always have and I always will, okay?"
"I love you, Tess," he said, kissing me on the cheek, "And I always will."

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