Love, Life, Hockey (boyxboy)

The Best Means Nothing

Talon helps me study everyday leading up to my test. It's quite the struggle, juggling school and hockey. We don't hang out except to study, so I'm bummed.

He's kept plenty busy, too. He's started reading to kids at our local library in town, since, according to him, "it looks better on my application if I have service outside of school." If you ask me, he's trying to distract himself.

He's quizzes me on formulas on the ride to school, and I feel good about an exam for the first time in a long time.

I finish well before the bell, so I study the playbook for this weekend. We're currently on top of our district, and I intend to keep us there.

Despite our lack of time together outside of school, we've eaten lunch together everyday.

"So?" He's eager to know how I feel, and so I match his enthusiasm.

"I feel good about it."

He shakes my shoulders and then pulls me into a hug. "I'm proud of you."

I don't think I'll ever get over the butterflies that sentiment causes.

Sometimes, for someone that doesn't play, I think Talon is too dedicated to hockey. He knows our playbook practically by heart, and spends lunch going over it with me. I mess up a few times, but Talon assures me that I'll have it down by tomorrow night.

When I enter the rink for practice, everyone is staring at me. My paranoia goes from 0-100 faster than a blink of an eye.

Evan breaks the silence. "Dude! You're number one. Like, in the world. Congrats."

My breath escapes my lips. "Thank you. Let's focus on winning tomorrow, yeah?"

A chorus of agreement floods the locker room.

On the ice, I am my most confident self. Nothing matters as much ass how well I can shoot a puck into a net, which is nice and simple. Sure, hockey is more complicated than that, but I don't care.

It's the only part of my life that isn't emotionally draining, and for that, I'm grateful. 

Practice is easy, to ensure we'll be in tip-top shape come tomorrow night. We have assigned homework apparently— it's just studying the playbook, which we've all been doing anyway.

Talon is buzzing like a bee when we walk to the car. "I cleared my day for you, so we can study."

"You're awesome, T."

He gives me a look. "I'm not the best hockey player in the world."

"Not you, too."

He gives me a nudge. "I'm just messing with you. Congrats though, that's pretty cool."

I guess it is.

I convince Talon that a good playbook session needs food, so to Benny's we go. He's quizzing me on the more complicated plays, and I'm doing fairly well. We take a break to head home, and take a nap for the next hour when we get there.

By the time I wake up, Talon is immersed in the Stars game. He's watching so intently he doesn't see me go to the restroom, and only acknowledges me after I flush.

"It's almost dinner time, sleepy."

I shoot him a thumbs up. We watch the game until his mom yells for us.

There's spaghetti on the stove, and I thank his mom before helping myself to a plate. We eat in silence, except for the congratulations I receive from his dad.

After, Talon insists on studying more, but I'm ready to go to bed. It's a quarter past eight, and I'm struggling to keep my eyes open.

"Does this mean you're spending the night?"

I'm under his covers. I thought it was obvious. "Well, yeah."

"Okay. Can I keep my light on to read for a bit?"

"Dude, it's your room. Besides, I can sleep anywhere."

I prove my point when I fall asleep minutes later.

Since it's Saturday, there's no alarm to wake me up. Judging by the light outside his window I'd say I slept past eight. The clock reads 9:15, and Talon is still asleep. This is undoubtably the calmest he ever is, quiet and unmoving. Watching him gives me peace, but I feel awkward.

A few minutes pass by before he flips over, but he remains asleep. I take this as a sign to stop watching, so I go out the window as quiet as I can manage.

Mom and Dad are awake, too.  "How are you feeling about tonight, Hunter?"

I pour myself a generous cup of coffee with a little bit of milk. "Good. Are you guys going to be there?"

Dad nods without looking up from his computer screen, and Mom smiles at me. Conversation ceases there. I'm less than surprised. We never talk anymore.

When I get upstairs, the group chat is going mad. Everyone is psyched for the game, and I am too. For once, hockey isn't an escape and I'm not running from my feelings.

I've resorted to ignoring them. It's working.

I spend the next half hour gathering my uniform and packing my bag, and I hear my window open from my closet. Talon enters the doorway.

"Hey, you ready for tonight?"

I nod happily. "Can you give me a ride?"

"Of course, dude.I can't wait to watch you win."

We're wearing our black uniforms tonight, so I hold up the remaining two. He bypasses both for my old USA hockey white. "Interesting choice."

He shrugs. "It's lucky."

I laugh. "Whatever you say, T."

The game starts at five, so I get to the rink around three. I'm the first one there, and I take advantage of the empty ice. Talon watches from the bench, but joins me after I shoot for a while.

"Teach me."

He puts on skates, and I show him how to position his hands. He misses the first couple, but nails it on the third try.

"So good, T!"

He's smiling from ear to ear, and I kiss him. He hesitates at first, but then leans into me. I come back to Earth and leave the ice before Talon can chase after me.

I'm distracted in warmups and end up in the penalty box twice. We win in OT, but I have nothing to celebrate.