I'd been aware of him since day one — not because you're looking, just because that's where everything and everyone pointed to. Junior. Center. The kind of player that made the ice look smaller because he covered so much of it. During practice he was everywhere — calling plays, fixing positioning, moving between guys with this quiet authority that I was pretty sure couldn't be taught. It shouldn't have mattered to me as much as it did. But I kept noticing him anyway.
One day after practice I walked to my car and he was already there. Posted up against the driver's side, one leg crossed over the other, arms folded, watching me come across the lot likehe'd been waiting a while, but was nonchalant about it. I kept my pace. I was not going to be the guy who got nervous around the captain.
I was a little nervous, though.
"Hey, man." He pushed off when I got close. Up close he was all muscle and easy confidence and eyes that looked right at you. One dimple, deep groove in his left cheek, only on one side. "Listen, I feel guilty. They're not bad guys, I swear. They're just set in their ways, so it's hard for them to open up to newbies. We've all been here together for years, so it's a close-knit group. It's just a bit of light hazing, don't take it personal." He gave me that dimpled smile and lightly pushed my shoulder.
"Yeah, sure. It's fine. No big deal, I get it."
"So." He tilted his head. "How about I make it up to you?"
I shrugged, feeling shy and exposed all of a sudden. "What do you mean?"
He stepped a little closer, voice dropping slightly. "I mean, want to go eat? Quick? There's a burger place on campus. I promise I'll show you we're not all so bad."
I pretended to take a couple of seconds to think about it. Like I wasn't foaming at the mouth for a friend. Like I wasn't desperate for even a drop of the captain's attention.
"Fine," I said. "Lead the way, Captain." I made a grand gesture, waving him forward, and he let out a small laugh and shook his head. I followed close behind as we wound through campus — tall buildings and greenery, students sprawled on the hillside with blankets and books like they had nowhere to be.
We walked in silence and I used this time to fully appreciate Marcus. He was literally made of muscle — thick everywhere, all legs and back — sinewy and veiny and moving fluidly like someone who'd never once been unsure of where he was going. Tanned, short brown hair, caramel eyes. From what I'd seen he was effortlessly charming. Everyone loved him — Coach,the team, a rotating parade of friends who hung around after games like planets around a sun. While the rest of the team had given me the cold shoulder, Marcus had been warmer. Not exactly friendly. But present. Encouraging during practice. Loud about it during games.
Maybe I'd been too focused on the negative. Maybe things were looking up, finally.
The door dinged when we came in.
Burger place. Heavy on the grease, light on the ambiance, exactly what a campus burger place should be. Mostly empty except for a couple in the corner sharing a strawberry milkshake while aggressively making out and didn't care who knew it. We took stools at the counter, clear view of the burnt grill, sticky plastic menus waiting for us.
"So." Marcus leaned an elbow on the counter and turned toward me. "Apart from the assholes on the team, how are you liking Eldridge?"
"Great." I made no effort to hide the sarcasm.
He hummed and didn’t push it. "Mhm. What are you majoring in?"
"Chemistry."
His face lit up. "No way. We have a genius on the team. The best GPA we have right now is probably a 2.0." He bumped his shoulder into mine. "The bar is literally on the floor, Rhys, congrats."
I snorted before I could stop it, and the first real smile I’d had in weeks slipped loose with it. "Shut up. I'm just good with equations, I like figuring out problems."
"Good at hockeyandequations. Do you have any flaws or are you doing this on purpose, Rhys?"
Another laugh came out of me that was embarrassingly genuine. And the way he kept saying my name — coupled with the first real compliment I'd gotten since I got here — had me lookingaway before he could see the color creeping up my neck. He took the menu out of my hands and set it down. "You don't need that, everything's good. Trust me. What do you want, burger or burger?"
"Tough call."
"I know, take your time."
"Burger," I announced, like it was a hard decision to make.
"Excellent choice." He flagged down the guy behind the counter without looking, easy and leisurely, the kind of person who never has to work for anyone's attention. It just comes. We ordered two smash burgers and fries to share. Marcus vetoed milkshakes on the grounds of being student athletes, which I pouted about.
"Ok so, flaws, give it to me straight then.” Marcus continued.
"I'm terrible in the morning."
"Everyone's bad at mornings."
"I'm like impressively bad. Like I won’t get out of bed on my own until afternoon and I have to have a coffee before I do anything at all."
