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“Take the shot,” Leon said.
He grabbed a stick, found a puck on the ice and passed it to me.
I took the shot.
Top right corner.
All net.
I looked at Leon.
“Was that so goddamn hard?” Leon growled.
He threw his stick to the bench, then gave a frustrated wave to me.
That was our cue that practice had officially ended.
He wandered off the ice.
I always hung around a few minutes extra.
I liked being on the ice alone.
There was a feel to it.
A sense of calm and peace to it all.
I almost felt like I was meditating.
That made me smile to think about.
If Leon only knew about that or heard me say something like that out loud.
Meditation? What the hell are you talking about, boy? You want to sit on your ass, rub your fingertips together and groan like a damn idiot? That’s what you want? Then go for it! While you’re damn daydreaming the rest of the world is moving forward. Tell you what. You can meditate all you want when I knock you upside the head with a hockey stick. I’ll send you back twenty years!
I smiled, shook my head, and turned, ready to get off the ice, get something to eat and get some sleep eventually.
I hadn’t realized I had an audience until I turned around.
An audience of one.
She stood in front of the bench and leaned against the boards.
Her smile could stop a tornado in its tracks.
She always had this habit too.
Nibbling at the bottom right corner of her mouth.
And her eyes. Oh, her eyes.
They were the brightest brown eyes I’d ever seen in my life.
Like heaven and chocolate fought for attention and they both won at the same time.
Wearing a t-shirt.
With a slight V-neck to it.
