Sasquatch to the Moon

5: Plane Buddies

ROCKET

Okay, so I definitely should've known to leave it where it lied with the defenseman. I shouldn't have tracked him down in the parking lot and I shouldn't have picked fun at him for not having friends and I shouldn't have done a hundred things I did on the first day of practice toward him that I did, in fact, do. 

Because he has not said a fucking word in a week. 12 people have been cut in that week leaving us just the right amount to head out to our first preseason game of the season. 

Assistant captain? Radio silence. 

At lunch? Not there. After practice? Not there. Team meetings? Guess what, silent. 

And now, Nico is reading off something and he's standing to her left, looking down at his feet, white hair falling over his eyes. 

I almost feel a little bad. I'd actually feel bad if he wasn't such a fucking dick. 

"Plane buddy assignments, considering we have to leave for Minnesota tomorrow morning," Nico is on a table in the cafeteria. 

I cross my fingers to get Steph but keep my eyes on the burly Scandinavian, wondering, secretly, how much protein he has to eat to keep his body like that.  

She starts reading. "Fen and Greenbean, FedEx and Mumbles, Pikachu and Sushi-" She pairs up all our Russians, and then, of course, we're at the bottom of the list. Things are looking good for Steph and I. "Steph and Paxton. Rocket and Yeti."

Paxton points at Steph from across the cafeteria. "Saggy you better not snore."

Steph flushes. "He snores!" I holler.

"Fuck!"

"It's not bad," Steph scrambles. "It's just-"

"Oh just fucking wonderful."

"Jesus, Paxy, you sleep like a victim of the black death, you'll be fine."

"Okay fair point," Paxton tries not to smile. "But Steph I will strangle you."

"Okay," Steph squeaks.

When I look to where Yeti is, his eyes are locked on mine, cold, unwavering. He gives me a shallow nod down that tells me if I try anything, he'll throttle me. 

I swallow, hard, refocusing my eyes on the floor. 

YETI

Fucking Nico. I knew she'd have something up her goddamn sleeve about this. Always. Always with that woman. 

It could not have been worse. She could not have made the decision to assign me to someone that's not going to want to talk my ear off and who I want to strangle every time he opens his mouth. She could've put me with someone else. Anyone else.

So, when he flops into the aisle seat next to me the next day, I just give him the most aggressive glare I can, then put on my headphones and pray he gets the memo: stay quiet and stay out of my goddamn business. 

He seems to understand the vibe and does the same. The plane is almost silent, it's early in the morning and I know everyone is pretty tired. 

It could be worse. 

Rocket is out cold in a couple of minutes, but I am absolutely not comfortable enough to do the same, so I read on my phone for the two-hour plane ride to Minneapolis.

The whole 'being sick' thing has died down since the first two nights home, but something about sitting here next to him is making my stomach churn.