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King drops to the bench in front of his cubby and starts gearing up.
“About time for what?”
“For Soren to start thinking,” I say.
King snorts. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”
“The fuck is this day?” Soren asks, looking around the locker room. The flabbergasted expression makes King snort out a laugh.
I feel too fidgety to sit still, so I head to the rink door before anybody else, yank it open, and step out. The cool air rushes against my face, and I suck in a lungful of icy air before I head down the chute.
I step on the ice. My blades slide across the surface, and I feel marginally better.
There’s still time before practice starts, so I power forward, circling the rink, one lap after another. No matter what it takes, I’m going to clear my head, turn my brain to hockey frequency, and stop overthinking and picking apart Lake’s mood.
People start trickling in, laughing and chatting. Soren chases after Bailey for some reason. Fucking around lasts exactly until Coach skates out, and then we’re all fucking Boy Scouts immediately. I go through warm-up with the dedication of somebody who’s being watched by talent scouts, and then Coach sets us up for stickhandling drills.
Unlike the last personal crisis I had, this time, I welcome the distraction hockey brings. Maybe it’s that there’s nothing specifically wrong. There’s just a gut feeling that something’s not as it should be with Lake.
For a few weeks now, he’s been distant. He’s randomly started sleeping at his own place again every now and then, but not in a ‘hey, let’s sleep at my place tonight’ kind of way. I’m not invited. It’s almost like he’s making himself stay away from me, and then when he eventually turns up again he’ll look like he hasn’t slept in days. So he climbs into my bed and into my arms and conks out immediately. He spends an insane amount of time in the library, so much so that I’m pretty sure he’s hiding there.
At first, I figured it was all in my head. I mean, he’s premed—of course it’s a lot of fucking work. And it’s not like I have that much free time on my hands either. It’s not like we spent every waking moment in each other’s pockets before.
But this feels different.
It’s almost like he’s pulling away, but at the same time doing a bad job of it because he’s still there, just not fully. Instead, he’s sort of… detached. Aloof.
Casual.
I fucking hate that word.
I don’t want to be casual with Lake. I want more.
It’s too bad I have no fucking clue what Lake wants at this point.
I yank my helmet off once Coach ends the practice and drag my hand through my sweaty hair.
“Not bad,” he says, which is high praise in coach speak. “I want to see the same attitude in every practice and game. We’re on the home stretch here, kids. We’re playing Vermont in our first game of Hockey East Tournament in a few weeks.”
He goes over the practice, handing out pointers and comments to everybody before he nods toward the locker rooms and dismisses us.
I grab a quick shower and get dressed. I’m just tying my boots when Hayes comes and stands next to me.
“Cafeteria?” he says.
I stand and glance at my phone before I shrug. “Sure.”
We head out into the spring air and over to the cafeteria. Once we have our food, we find a table and take a seat.
I check my phone, even though I know Lake’s in class right now. When I look up, I find Hayes looking at me with raised brows.
“You’ve got porn on there or something?” he asks.
“Shitload of it,” I say. “Is that why we’re here? You want me to show you where to find some? Aww, my little boy is growing up.”
“I can manage my own porn just fine. But thanks for the offer. It’s nice to know you care about me getting off.” He takes a bite and chews thoughtfully before he gestures at me with his fork. “Just never seen you so invested in your phone before.”
“I’m not.”
