Risking the Shot (Stick Side #4) - Amy Aislin Page 0,85
a neat pile and nodded at the door. “Let me walk you out and you can tell me what you plan on doing instead. Other than hockey, that is.”
“Oh, um . . .” Ambling toward the exit side by side, passing students half bent over their phones or shoving each other good-naturedly, Tay balled his hands in his pockets. “I think I’m going to focus on my art.”
Lai turned to him, eyebrows flying up. “You’re an artist?”
“Ah, sort of, yeah.”
“Neat.” At the exit, Lai hung a left and started down another hallway. “Good luck with it. And tonight’s game. See you in class?”
“Yeah, I’ll be finishing out the semester.” Given the time, energy, and money he’d invested in it, it’d be stupid not to. “Thanks again, professor.”
Blowing out a breath, Tay slumped, letting his head fall back. So. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting exactly, but that certainly wasn’t it. Relief made his muscles weak and he sucked in a deep breath. God, he couldn’t wait to tell Dakota about this conversation.
First, though, he needed to get to the arena, and for the first time in recent memory, he drove away from campus without a cloud of bleakness over his head.
He arrived at the arena early, but so did everyone else, excitement evident in the choice of music booming in the locker room—some dance number Tay didn’t recognize—the wired undertones to his teammates’ voices, and the banter that flowed freely. Sitting in front of Stanton’s cubby was the box of Sour Patch Kids that had made an appearance in the locker room several weeks ago. Stanton himself was speaking to Staples near his locker.
Tay found Dean and Grey after he’d changed into his workout gear. Their cubbies weren’t next to each other, whether unintentionally or by design, Tay didn’t know, so he went to Dean and called Grey over. “I got an email from my building manager today. They’re done with the hallway renovations so I can move back in anytime. I should be out of your hair in the next couple of days.”
“There’s no rush,” Dean said. “We’re on the road most of next week. You must have other things to think about than moving out.”
“I’m sure you’ll enjoy having your space back.”
“We like having you around, Tay,” Dean said with a reassuring smile. “Stay as long as you need. There’s really no rush.”
Grey swung an arm around Tay’s shoulders. “Stick around. You have interesting textbooks.”
Tay blinked at him. “You’re the weirdest person I’ve ever met.” Who wanted to read a course textbook? Oh, hey! Maybe he could sell it to Grey when he was done with it. Or hell, he’d just gift it to him.
As they got set up in a deserted hallway for Balls In My Court, Lacroix at the end with a whistle, Xappa nudged his wide shoulders between Tay and Stanton.
“I like this spot,” he said at Tay’s glower.
“Uh-huh.” Tay’s gaze trailed past him to Stanton. Definitely something other than best friend duties. Definitely cementing him as the sixth secret member of the Queer Brigade. “Methinks you like something else.”
Xappa’s eyes widened, hand going to his chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Uh-huh. You’re very obvious.”
Lips pursed, Xappa looked to his right; Stanton was wiping his glasses on his T-shirt.
“In his defense,” Tay said, when Xappa raised an eyebrow at him, “all he notices is hockey and musical theater.”
Xappa laughed. Lacroix blew the whistle a second later.
“This is it,” Coach Dabrowski had said during his usual pregame pep talk. “If we win the next two games, we clinch a spot in the playoffs. Don’t fuck up.”
So eloquent.
But, so far, they hadn’t fucked up. Tay refused to attribute that to the puzzle piece he’d rubbed between two fingers before the game. He was not going to become one of those players who had to perform a sacred ritual before each game.
With four minutes to go until the end of the third period, they were up by two and Montreal was floundering. All they had to do was continue to run circles around Montreal and they’d have this in the bag. Toronto’s goalie had only let in one goal all night. Desie was going to get plied with drinks when they went out to celebrate later.
The energy of the crowd was infectious. Tay’s blood buzzed in his veins, his face flushed, as he awaited his next shift. Next to him, Stanton tapped the end of his hockey stick against the floorboards.