Terrence snorts. “She took shots at everyone. Dude, do you really not drink water at practice? I’d literally die.Literally, literally.”
My face scrunches with disgust. “Not me. Coach be damned, my dad would never let that happen.” I stare down the bottom of my solo cup. “But I’ve heard horror stories.” I down the rest of my drink. “Hate to bail on a downer but I’m heading out.”
Leroy boos and Marcus shootsme a raspberry with his forked tongue.
“ClassicRod. One and done!” Terrence wraps an arm around my shoulder, escorting me to the sidewalk. Which, now thatI’mthe famous friend, is appreciated. He uses our closeness to whisper in my ear, “Will I see you back at the dorm?”
I shake my head.
“Nice. Have fun you absolute mad man.” He slaps me on the ass and sends me on my way.
The slight alcohol buzz and the last tailwind of summer make the bike ride over to Christos’ place all the better. It’ll be my first time seeing him since I moved back on campus, but we’d seen each other several times over the summer. Long distance is a breeze compared to our initial arrangement. Watching him cook dinner on a video call was the highlight of many of my summer days.
I leave my bike on the porch and go to knock then remember I have my own key. I open the door a crack before announcing, “Hi, it’s me.”
The place smells heavily of butter, the sort of scent you only get from the artificial stuff.
The duplex is a lot cozier now. One of Christos’ old hockey jerseys hangs on the wall above the couch, alongside The Dingbat’s team photo. There’s a bookshelf already full of worn paperbacks I’ve leant him, magazines, a good helping of cookbooks, and some Pennsylvania hiking guides.
Christos enters the living room, holding a huge bowl of popcorn. He walks right over to me and kisses me ever so briefly. “You taste like cheap beer.”
“Confession, I kinda love cheap beer.” I grab a piece of popcorn. “Movie night?”
“I got us something special.” He nods to the DVD case on the coffee table.
I can see the DVD from here, but I pick it up to be sure. The title is in Cyrillic, but I’ve seen the poster enoughto recognize it immediately.
“Shut up!”
There has only been one attempt to adapt To Frost the Thaw to film. It was in the 90s by a Russian film studio that went bankrupt not long after the film was released. I’ve seen clips online but never the full thing.
He lifts his chin, proud of himself. “I got Jonas to pull a favor with one of his Russian teammates. I’ve already tested the disk to make sure it works. It’s even got poorly translated English subtitles.”
I love this man. I love him so much.
We’ve adjusted our rules. No topic is off-limits at his place. He knows about my plans to compete this season and I know all about the rookie he scouted last spring, but he also knows what classes I picked for this semester and I know about his summer camping escapades with his old hockey buddies. We keep our interactions on campus short, but it doesn’t really matter.
There aren’t a whole lot of people who know about us, really it’s just Alex, Terrence, and Bekken. Maude has sort of figured it out. She agreed not to pry as long as I promise not to make my mysterious paramour the center of my world. The irony of course is that Christos, more than anyone, wants me to focus on skating and graduating this spring.
Sleepovers are allowed on weekends, unless the Dingbats have an away game. He’s too tired after traveling to keep up with me.
We settle on the couch and as soon as the bowl of popcorn is safely on the coffee table, I sit in his lap, pressing my back against his chest.
The movie starts and he shifts awkwardly. “So, is this movie… bad?”
“It’s hotly debated whether it’s so bad it’s good or if it’s just bad. But pretty much everyone agrees it’s a faithfuladaptation. Much to its detriment as a film.”
“If I fall asleep—”
“I’ll forgive you.” I kiss the underside of his chin.
He wraps his arms around my waist. “Do I get a reward if Idon’tfall asleep?”
“That can be arranged.” I get comfortable. “You have a whole two hours to think about what you want once the credit’s roll.” Two hours is no time at all compared to our future together. We’ve been careful to not get too ahead of ourselves for fear of getting stuck in each other’s orbit before either of us is ready.
Still, I know that two hours from now I’ll want him. And again in two days, two weeks, two months… Dare I say in two years. Lots of things we want don’t make sense, but not him. Christos makes perfect sense to me.
