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“Oooh-kay then, I guess it’s been decided. Game’s about to start.” Nolan laughs as he follows Ky and the others outside. Millie and I grab some blankets after quickly making up a couple of pitchers of lemonade, lay them on the lawn and sit down while the others decide on teams.
Unlike ice hockey, street hockey is played without any protective equipment, and teams are decided by shirts and skins. Nolan and Devon team up with Brad March and Mike Dowling; and Jude and Ky are on a team with Saul Frisch and Mikko Fox. With Brad, Mike, Saul, and Mikko living so close, street hockey is a regular occurrence between the two households. Nolan and his team leave their shirts on, while Jude and the others take theirs off.
Even though I attempt to take no notice of Kyler removing his shirt, my eyes don’t get the message and immediately lock onto him. His right hand reaches back to grip the material between his shoulders and in one fluid motion he pulls his tee over his head and drops it to the floor. He has a swimmer’s body—nicely defined and not stacked with muscles. There’s a tattoo on his shoulder, an intricate design of vines which intertwines with the tattoo of the lion on his bicep. My breath stutters as my eyes continue their perusal down to his forearms—a weak point of mine, because armporn is a real thing. The only other indication of hair on his torso is the dark brown line leading into his Adonis belt. I clamp my jaw shut and try to keep my expression as neutral as possible. The air around me has suddenly become unbearably hot, and with a surreptitious wave of my hand to fan my face, I force myself to look at what’s going on around me.
After constructing some makeshift goalposts with towels brought outside by Jude, each of them takes their position; Jude and Brad in goal, and the others dotted around the street. In the center, Ky faces off against Mike with their choice of puck—a tennis ball—at their feet. After knocking their sticks three times, play starts and Ky gets to the ball first, hitting it with force to Saul, who runs it toward Mikko. Mikko takes a shot at goal and the ball flies through. If I thought ice hockey was fast, street hockey is a close second. These guys sure know their game and are a force to be reckoned with. Even though this is all for fun, I know each one of them is taking it seriously. Especially the tall, dark, disheveled one standing front and center. The game continues, and the teams are evenly matched, which promises us an entertaining and thrilling afternoon. After thirty minutes of exhaustive play, Jude calls time for a ten-minute refreshment break and we pour some lemonades and hand them out. All except one willingly take a glass. He’s standing across the street, holding his hockey stick behind his head and resting it on both shoulders with a sheen of sweat glistening off his body in the afternoon sun. My eyes can’t help but trace the tattoo on his shoulder, and I wonder if there’s a story behind the intricate ink.
“What’s with you and Kyler?” Millie asks me quietly, interrupting my perusing.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Girl, please. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed him staring at you every time there’s a break in play? It’s like he’s trying to do a Jacob and imprint on you or something.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I reply. “He’s probably just looking at one of the others for some kind of direction in play or something.”
Millie laughs in response. “Sure, believe whatever you want, but I’m telling you. That boy cannot keep his eyes off of you. It’s like he’s obsessed. And you seem to be doing everything in your power to ignore him.”
“No, I’m not!” I reply quickly.
“Yes, you are. I see you both, you know. Him with his intense stare, you with your avoidance tactics. It’s ridiculous. Honestly, the electric charge between the pair of you is fierce enough to cause a power outage down the entire street.”
I look over toward Kyler and noticed he’s moved from his position and is no longer standing across the street. I take a quick glance to both sides and can’t see him anywhere. Maybe he’s decided he’s had enough for the day.
“That for me?” his deep voice sounds quietly behind me, quickly awakening a blanket of goosebumps across my neck. I glance to my right to check where Millie is before turning around. The last thing I need is to fuel her ridiculous fantasy.
“Sure,” I say to him, as I hand him the cool glass of lemonade. He takes it and downs the liquid in one smooth gulp. He never breaks eye contact with me and it feels like the most intense, isolating moment between us. The others melt away and it’s just me and Kyler in a little bubble. Yet, as soon as it starts, it quickly dissipates, and Jude claps his hands and calls for the second half to start. Kyler places the glass on the tray and walks back to the middle of the street without another word, leaving me to wonder what the hell just happened.
“Nothing going on, huh?” Millie whispers quietly beside me, and I just roll my eyes in response, because it’s clear she’s not going to let this go.
The game continues and every time my eyes find Kyler, I realize Millie is right. When he’s not in play, he’s looking at me; not moving, not paying attention to anything around him. It’s only when the ball comes hurling toward him, he focuses on the game without a blink of the eye. It’s unnerving, but it’s also thrilling. And the more I look, the more I find myself wishing for the intense bubble to form around us again, just as it did when he drank the lemonade earlier.
After an hour or so the game finally comes to an end with a victory for Jude’s team, much to my brother’s delight. He whoops and cheers along with the others and backslaps are traded all round.
“Let’s have a barbecue,” Devon suggests as the others begin to clear away the makeshift goals.
“Good idea,” Jude replies.
“I agree,” I say. “I’m pretty sure we have enough things in the fridge to make a salad or two.”
“Cool, I’ll drive to the store and get some other supplies so we can set up,” Nolan offers. Devon agrees, offering to go with him.
The rest pile into the house and straight out to the back yard. I start to pick up the blankets we were sitting on, and see Kyler unlock his car and throw his belongings on the passenger seat.
“Please don’t tell me this means you’re skipping out on mealtime again?” I ask him with a playful tone in my voice.
“I have someplace to be,” is all he says as he gets into the driver’s seat and buckles up. “Save me a plate?” he asks, closing the door and not giving me a chance to reply. He switches on the engine and backs out of the driveway.
I’m frustrated because even after all this time, he’s still a closed book, seemingly only participating in the minimum of activities. And I’m irritated at myself because I know even though I’m annoyed, I’ll still plate him up some leftovers and leave them for him to have when he decides to come back home later tonight.
eight
Kyler
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” I don’t have to be a rocket scientist to know what’s going on upstairs. But I am a moron for thinking Thea wouldn’t have sex with her boyfriend in the house. That’s what I did, most of the night, while I failed at not watching her. I put myself through hell picturing the puny guy putting his hands on her bare skin. I groan and reach for my phone. The screen lights up and shows it’s a little after four in the morning and there’s no way I’m going back to sleep until they’re done—which I’m hoping will be soon. I never want my friends to pump and dump but man, I am down on my knees praying this fool can’t last longer than thirty seconds.
The thirty seconds pass and the squeaking from Thea’s bed continues. “Fuck my life.” I bring my phone to life and go to her social media page. She added me as a friend the other day and I waited until midnight to accept even though I saw it right away. I don’t know why I didn’t look at her page before now because if I had, the boyfriend wouldn’t have been such a surprise. I click on their pictures and study their body language. Thea looks like she’s into him, but he seems standoffish. Of course, I’m probably looking for reasons they shouldn’t be together. Which, I don’t get. She means nothing to me. Thea is a roommate and one of my best friends’ sisters. These thoughts I have about her need to stop. The only reason she keeps popping in my head is because she’s a good cook.
And she’s fucking hot.
