I nodded sagely. “Profound, yet true.”
“There are many nets, obviously. Everyone has their own net.” He gestured with his glass to encompass the entire world in his metaphor. “And some of us are red guys.” He pointed at himself. “And we are just trying to do ourjobsand run the puck down the… the…”
“Ice?” I suggested.
“Yes,” Luke agreed gratefully. “We are trying to run it down the ice so we can smash it in the net with our hooks, because that’s what we are born to do. And some people are blue men.” He pointed at me. “And they’re trying to stop us from smashing by smashing us instead. And that’s annoying, Webb. It’s annoying. But it’s kindayourjob. So I’ll allow it. It’s okay.”
“Thank you,” I said sincerely.
“But then there are the black-and-white stripey dudes, and they just… they blow their whistles and throw up roadblockswhen good people are just trying to do their job. And all of a sudden, everything is stopped and nothing is fun anymore. It’s like everyone isfighting. They restrain the men in the plastic boxes, and it’s all so excessive and confusing. That’s what I think anyway.”
“Uh-huh.” I nodded. “And I think you’re drunk.”
“Maybe so.Maaaaybeso. But I’m also not wrong.” Luke sucked down more of his drink, and a tiny bit of liquid dribbled down his chin.
I wanted to lean over and wipe it off with my thumb, and it was getting harder to remember why I wasn’t supposed to do that.
“Just let the men do their jobs!” he shouted, smacking the table with his palm. “No more plastic boxes!”
“Fuck yeah!” Alan Laroche pointed across the bar at Luke and grinned. “Exactly what I’m saying, Williams! The refs areblind, eh?”
Luke looked startled for a second, like he’d forgotten where he was. “So blind!” he told Alan. To me, he murmured, “What, um… did I miss?”
I ran a hand over my mouth to hide my smile. “Penalty for elbowing,” I explained. “You can ram a player but not with your elbows out.”
“Oh. Yeah, that sounds dangerous.” He frowned like the elementary school teacher he was. “Okay, so maybesometimesplastic boxes are necessary.”
“Imagine that? The NHL will be grateful for your support,” I said solemnly.
I’d stopped counting how many drinks I’d consumed after the third round Luke and I had ordered together, but it was safe to say I was far, far drunker than I’d been in two decades.
I was so drunk, I was listening to my nemesis neighbor expound on hockey as a metaphor for life, which was the highest level of drunk.
Luke grinned and knocked his booted foot into mine companionably, and I grinned back. When he turned his head to look at the TV, I noticed a tiny smudge of dried purple poster paint on his face, and a warm, affectionate kind of feeling came over me that I usually only got when Aiden, Hawk, or Gage did something sweet.
Okay, no, wait, correction. I was listening to my nemesis neighbor expound on hockey, and I wasenjoying it. So much so that I wasn’t sure it was remotely accurate to call him my nemesis anymore.That’show drunk I was.
I laughed lightly to myself and tried to hide it by sipping my drink.
From this close, I could see Luke had a smattering of freckles on his nose, and I felt the most bizarre need to count them. Then he wrinkled his nose and his freckles scattered, so I had to count again. I couldn’t help but notice the way his sweater sleeves were still down over his wrists, like his hands were cold even in this sauna-hot bar.
I couldn’t help but noticehim…
And I realized in a flash that I was so drunk, I was thinking Luke Williams—a dude—was kind of… good-looking. Which was a level of drunk I’d literally never achieved before.
A level of drunk I hadn’t known Icouldachieve.
And I wondered idly if I was going to be more surprised about it in the morning, but in the moment, it just feltgood. Like flirting with the blonde at the bar but better, because I was never going to use a pickup line on the man, and Luke was already acquainted with the complexities of my life and didn’t seem put off.
Hell, hewashalf the complexities of my life.
Maybe it was the Rusty Spikes talking, but being friends with Luke seemed way easier than hating him, and I felt stupid for not realizing it sooner.
In fact, I was having so much fun, I almost didn’t care that my brother had abandoned me. It was, weirdly, exactly what I’d needed but hadn’t known I’d needed that night.
“You,” I proclaimed magnanimously, “are not awful.”
“Oh. Wow.” Luke blinked his attention away from the television. “Thank you?”
