by E. Cleveland
I hold her against me, running my hand down her back as she tickles her fingers over my chest. “What are those?”
“Hey, I get it.” I rub my hand over the back of my hair.
“You’ve felt body-shamed into wearing a lot of corsets, have you?” She sniffles and laughs at the same time.
“No, okay, so I don’t get it totally. I do understand pressure though. I know how the weight of other people’s expectations feels. Pressure is pressure, and girls get it the worst.”
She softens in my arms, her body relaxing against mine. “I’m glad it’s over. I’m never wearing one of those things again.” She smiles at me, but I can’t meet it.
Goodnights are said. Lights are turned off. Sheets are pulled up. It all feels like it’s happening in the background because as soon as she said the word “over”, my heart sunk like a stone.
I pull Hattie in against me tightly, my arm cinched around her. Tomorrow this is all over between us, but tonight I’m going to hold her close. Tonight she’s still mine.
21
Gone Viral
Griz
“Greece is going to be perfect,” Clementine says for the tenth time. And every fucking time she says it, her new husband says the same thing.
“You’re perfect.”
They just got married, so I’m sure that they’re loving this. Every time they say it back and forth, I’m sure they feel like they’re living inside an Ed Sheeran song. I’m starting to feel like I’m living inside that nails-on-the-chalkboard sound.
Hattie rolls her eyes like she’s trying to get a panoramic view of the entire airport at once. “You guys should probably get checked in since it’s an…”
“International flight.” Her sister cuts her off.
“Yup.” Hattie sighs. So much restraint. It’s amazing, really.
“I can’t believe I’ve gotta say goodbye to both my girls at once.” Their father has been a bit on the emotional side since the wedding. I don’t know what it’s like to watch your babies grow up, but it looks rough. I remember the worry in my parent’s eyes at Christmas. Now, with the sadness in Jerry’s eyes, I’m pretty sure kids must shred your heart.
“Thanks for driving us, dad.” Hattie gives her father a hug.
“Yeah, thank you, daddy.” Clementine uses this nasally voice that makes me want to shave my ears off my head.
“Have a good trip, sweetheart,” Jerry answers.
“Enjoy Greece,” Hattie says to Clementine.
“Good luck.” I stick out my hand, and Julian shakes it. The two carry-on bags hanging off him make it a bit awkward.
Clementine’s blue eyes are ice. “I doubt we’ll meet again, so good luck with your life.” Her lips purse together into more of a pinch than a smile.
“Same.” I don’t smile back.
They walk off to check in, and Jerry juts out his hand to give me one of those hearty handshakes with a shoulder clap at the same time. It reminds me of my dad. Maybe one day it’ll remind my kid of me. “I’m pretty sure I’ll see you again, so I’ll just say score lots of goals out there.”
“I’ll do what I can. Thank you for having me. It was a pleasure to meet you and Linda
“You better. I’ll be watching from home.” He points two fingers up to his eyes making Hattie and I both laugh. “Best of luck with the season, Griz. Have a good flight, pumpkin.” He turns his attention to Hattie. “Call us when you get in.” He gives her a hug and heads out.
We get our bags checked, get through security and find our gate. There’s still an hour until our flight, but neither of us suggests hitting up a Chili’s to kill time.
It feels different this time. All the nerves and excitement about pulling this off are gone. There’s a comfort between us that I’ve never felt around any girl before. It’s a comfort that I’m not ready to lose. Fake relationship rules shouldn’t end until the plane lands. I think that was written as a footnote on Hattie’s ridiculously long questionnaire. My mom had to rip my favorite blanket out of my eight-year-old hands way back when, so we’ll see how this goes.
“They moved my seat.” Hattie leans toward me in the moulded, plastic seat. She holds up her ticket, her finger resting right above her seat number. I check my own, even though I already know what it says. Hattie and I aren’t sitting together. Fate is driving that final nail in the coffin of this fake relationship. It’s over. Back to reality now.
It’s not like I have a bad life. I try to think of all the things I have. Hockey, my friends, my family. It’s a good life. A great fucking life. It suddenly feels less vibrant, like the color got dulled down somehow. There’s an emptiness now.
The plane starts to board, and Hattie and I get seated diagonally across the aisle from each other. She’s back a couple rows. I take a look at her, but turn back around in my seat and grab my phone. I got a bunch of texts while I was getting on the plane. It looks like Canuck sent a video link. And so did Gucci. All the guys sent a video link, actually. I frown, hovering my thumb over the little arrow. I want so much to see what they’re all sending.
Instead, I press my thumb into the side of my phone and shut it off. Cramming it in my pocket, I know I made the right decision. If every guy at Hector House is sending me the same link to the same video, individually, it means one thing – there’s no way that’s a link I should be opening and watching on a packed airplane.
At home, laying on top of my covers, one hand propped behind my head and the other hand wrapped around my cock? That’s probably a good place to watch it. Crammed into an economy airplane seat next to these women who both look like my Nan? Not so much. I put my earbuds in and try to find a movie on the in-flight entertainment system that I can zone out with. I’ll do a different kind of zoning out with that other video later.
I disappear inside the movie Avengers: Endgame. The wheels hit the runway about an hour before it comes to an end. No one wants to willingly use an airplane bathroom, so the first thing I do is go empty my bladder and then shuffle through the airport with the herd of people. That flight, getting off the plane and making my way to the baggage area, it’s all a gray blur. Hattie’s red hair pulls my eyes. It’s a beacon in the fog. I join her by the conveyor belt. We both watch the slow parade of unclaimed bags looking for their owners. I don’t know what to say to her, but I know it’s not goodbye.
Everything around us has a mechanical whirr to it. The wheels on suitcases being dragged behind business men. The baggage claim carousel. The robotic announcements being made over the speakers. Hattie’s voice cuts through it all. “Um, so, back to reality.” She flings up both her hands into the air like she just released a dove, but then pulls them down to her sides nervously.
“I guess so.” I nod.
“Yeah.” She clears her throat. “So, thank you for all of this. It was…” Her voice is tight like someone giving a speech in public for the first time. She seems really nervous. “It was, I mean, I really appreciate it.”
“Appreciate it.” I echo her words. Sure, because this is over now. The fake relationship rules are done, and our thousand-dollar date has come to an end. Canuck was right; I’m like a bearded Julia Roberts getting dumped back on her corner, and it fucking hurts. “No problem.”
We grab our bags, and the sting of her casualness fades as we head outside. The light casting over her face in Madison Square Garden flashes through my mind. I get over my bruised ego. “Hey, thanks for New York’s best slice. That was something else.” I look down at her, and for once she doesn’t hide from my eyes.
She nods, staring out the airport window to the taxis and cars waiting in the whipping wind. It gets dark so early in the winter. Sometimes it feels like we’re all just sleepwalking. All of us either live out our dreams or run from our nightmares.
“Normally, when I go home, I feel like I lose a bit of myself.” She glances to me for understanding, and I think I know what she means. It would be hard to risk authenticity in a house like Hattie’s. She seemed so co
mfortable being the black sheep, but even black sheep have days where they just want to fit in.
“I get that,” I answer.
“I know.” She smiles. “With you there, it was different. I don’t know why, but there’s something about this all being fake that made it feel safe to be my realest self. So, thank you for that.”
I nod, frowning as I think about what she’s saying. When have I ever let myself be who I really am around a girl? When you only fuck with puck bunnies, no one cares about who you are, only how much you score.
“Anyway, my car just pulled up.” She starts walking to the door, pulling her bag through the doorway and into the snow. “I’ll see you around campus, okay?” she yells back through the door but doesn’t wait for me to say anything.
The car pulls away and exhaustion hits. My suitcase weighs at least a hundred pounds more than it did this morning. Pulling out my phone, I find my own ride home. Of course, it starts blowing up again with more texts about the video, but I’m not in the mood. Instead I shove it in my pocket and stare out the window until we reach Hector House. I tip the guy an extra five bucks because he didn’t say a word to me the whole way. I appreciate when a driver can read the room.
I walk in the front foyer and drop my suitcase. The guys are laughing their asses off in the living room.
“I am a Warrior!” The laughter is louder this time.
Hanging up my coat, I wonder about the video all the guys sent me and walk toward all the noise.
“You’re fucked, Blaze.” Player is leaning against the wall, shaking his head at the television.
“Relax.” He waves Player off with the hand that doesn’t have a beer in it. Blaze and the other guys are sprawled all over the couch and chairs. “There’s no way they can tell it’s me.” He blows off Player’s concern.
“Your tattoos, man.” Player points. “Tattoos tell the truth. Anyone who’s ever seen you without a shirt on will know that’s you.
“What’s going on?” I walk past Gucci and Canuck on the couch and snag the last open chair.
“Didn’t you see the text I sent?” Gucci asks.
“Yeah, I sent you a video,” Canuck jumps in.
“I was on the plane.” I swipe my phone back on and try to open one of the texts.
“Here, just watch.” Canuck plays the paused video on the television screen.
The picture is blurry at first, and it’s done in night-vision green. So, it’s weird when a naked chick bends over the desk.
Not as weird as when a guy steps into the shot. Blaze is way too comfortable with his nudity to not recognize his body immediately. I have to go by the body though, because his entire head and neck are covered by an oversized mascot Warriors head. The grimacing face makes me laugh. It wobbles around on his body as he plows this girl from behind. She’s moaning and looking into the camera. “Oh, fuck! Go, Westbury.” She’s all breathy and bouncy.
“I am a Warrior!” the fucking mascot head yells out.
The video stops, and I know Player is pissed, but I can’t not laugh at that shit. “What the fuck did I just watch?”
“I had some fun on spring break.” Blaze shrugs.
“You’re fucking crazy, man.” I laugh at him.
“It’s not funny, man. The chick in that video posted it up on every free site out there.” Player has his arms crossed and jaw tight.
“You’re being a hypocrite, man.” Blaze points at Player.
“How so?”
“Last year you had a picture like this going around with you in it, and it was no big deal then, huh?”
“Not the same.” Player looks like he wants to hit him. Blaze looks like he might take that hit and not give a shit.
I play the video clip the guys sent me. “I am a Warrior!” Blaze’s voice bellows. That cartoon head rests on his human shoulders while his porn-star cock goes at it.
“That picture was of my ass, not some fucked up mascot porn. That picture only went around Westbury. This…” He points to the television. “It’s gone viral.” Player’s eyes flash. “Wilson already called me in and asked if it was any of us. I told him no.”
Suddenly, I understand the anger more. It’s not that Blaze fucked up. Again. It’s that Player covered for him, and he doesn’t even give a fuck.
“And he’s not gonna find out.” Blaze keeps shooting down everything Player says. “This will blow over.”
“Until one person says those are your tattoos, asshole,” Player yells.
“That doesn’t make it an open and shut case. Chill. I’ve got plausible deniability on my side.”
“What?” Canuck looks at Blaze.
“He means he’s gonna lie,” Player answers.
“Through my teeth.” Blaze nods.
“I am a Warrior!” Canuck plays the end of the video again, and we laugh.
“Through my fucking teeth,” he repeats.
22
Black Eyes & Silent Voices
Griz
Practice is almost finished, and I’m leaving everything out on this ice. All of my frustrations. I haven’t had a real conversation with Hattie since I stopped being her fake boyfriend. That one sucks because I’m causing fifty percent of my own frustration. We’ve been home for over a week, and I haven’t gotten a hold of her. I started to write a couple texts but gave up.
My sexual frustration is less in my control. I’ve never slept with as many girls as Player, but I didn’t do too bad. I’ve had enough experiences to know that my cock has peaked. There is no better. It doesn’t exist. It’s all fucking downhill from here.
I dig my skates in, they send ice slivers up into a mist, and I change direction. I capture the puck from Rookie and break for the opposite net. Canuck is a wall of gear blocking my clean shot. I flick my wrist as the buzzer goes off, and he swats it down.
“Fuck,” I grunt. Canuck’s the best goalie I’ve played with or against. If I want to go pro, I’ve got to beat the best. Coach pulls out his phone and frowns down at it. “What the hell now?” He studies something on the screen.
“Good try.” Player skates around me and gives me a clap on my shoulder.
“Yeah, not good enough,” Canuck brags.
“You got that right.” I frown.
“It will be.” Player gives me a look that tells me to climb out of the bucket hanging over the well of pity before I drown myself. “Next game is what counts.” We skate around the outside of the arena. It’s supposed to be our cool-down.
“We’ll get it. We’ll take the game.” I put the power of positive fucking thinking out into the world. Truth is, I don’t know if we will. We’ve been off kilter all season. If we don’t take the next game, there’s no Frozen Four this year.
“That’s right.” Player smiles big. He holds up three fingers over his head. “Three years in a row,” he yells out. A bunch of us whoop in agreement.
Hattie’s dad said he’d be watching from home. I wonder if he’ll make good on that. It’s been ten days since Jerry saw us off at the airport. Ten days since Hattie and I said goodbye. It’s not like we’ve gone no-contact though. When I’ve seen her around Westbury, in the halls, I say hi. It’s uncomfortable now. When I ran into her on the quad yesterday, it was like two old men discussing the weather on the golf green. The way she pulled away, the distance between us now, I hate it.
The talks, the wedding, the fucking, I can’t get those moments out of my head. I miss being with her, but I also miss her just being. Being there. With me. Together in the silence between the moments. That’s what I miss the most. The moments when we dropped all the pretenses and let our souls meet. I don’t want to talk to her about the weather. I want to talk to her about all the things that aren’t the weather. I want to live in her world again.
I want to see her roll her eyes. I want to hear her sarcasm. I want to feel my lips on hers. Or her lips on my…
Coach Wilson blows his whistle and motions for us to skate back to him. “No one go fucking anywhere,”
he yells. “Gather in.”
“Take a knee,” Player calls out to the guys.
We’re sweating and panting after that practice, but everyone is looking at our coach.
“Guys, let me tell ya, I’m about to use a word, and I don’t like to use it often. But today, it fits. Disappointed. You guys let me down, and it’s disappointing.”
Anyone who was phoning in their interest is dialled in now. I feel like he just sucker punched every single one of us in the gut with that.
“I know you’ve all seen the Warrior-sex thing by now.”
“I am a Warrior!” Rookie yells out a dead-on impression of Blaze in the video, and everyone starts laughing. Even Blaze.
Wilson pulls out his phone, waving it around angrily. “This isn’t a fucking joke, boys. Do you have any idea how much pressure I’m under right now from this? My ass is on the line because when I asked your team captain if any of you did it,” – he looks at Player – “you said no.”
“Coach.” Player stops hanging his head, but Wilson talks right over him, shutting him up by steamrolling whatever he was going to say.
“And I get that, okay?” He looks out at the rest of us. “I understand not wanting to rat someone out over this. I don’t think it should be a big deal either.” He looks up at the arena ceiling like he’s appealing to the ultimate jury. “Everyone in that video is an adult. The chick and the bobble-head are clearly consenting, so what’s the big deal?” Coach looks tired. “Right? But that’s not how the university board sees it. To them, this is a PR crisis. A black-eye for Westbury. So, guys, no more bullshit. The board knows it was one of you. They sent me the security footage tonight.”
He hits play on his phone and holds up the screen to us. I’m near the front, so I can clearly make out the footage. The video is in black and white. A guy wearing a Warriors hockey jacket stumbles into sight. That night-vision girl from Blaze’s mascot-head porn weaves down the hall behind him. They have their fingers laced together and their other arms stretched out like a snake slithering in the grass. I know it’s Blaze, but not from this footage. The lighting is too severe. You can’t make out his face. If I didn’t know he was guilty, I’m not sure I’d guess it was him.