Page 21 of Josh’s Play

I slung my gym bag over my shoulder as I followed Noah out of the locker room.

Josh and I had scheduled to meet again the next week, but I didn’t think I could handle another visit to the rink, so I suggested we meet at the library, the neutral, safe, boring library, so we could talk about our project.

Practice was optional on Sunday evenings, but I always went to optional practices, which is why it had been so frustrating when I returned to campus earlier in the summer, and they hadn’t let me play.

I texted Josh to see if he could meet me around six that evening, but he said something about family dinner and asked if we could push it back until eight. I was anxious to see Josh again and set the record straight with him, so to speak.

I was zoning out on the couch with my teammates. A football game played on the TV, and the occasional cheer or jeer pulled my focus to the score every once in a while, but mainly I thought about the previous weekend, like I’d been doing all week. I thought about Josh and how he had kissed me, then I pushed that thought right out of my head by thinking about my conversation with Coach Weadner. My opportunity to make it to the NHL was before me. I had to focus on one thing and one thing only: hockey.

My resolve was strong when my phone buzzed.

Shelley: Hey, I’m at the library.

Shelly: Snagged a study room.

He texted the room number.

Noah came up behind me, shoving a beer in my face.

“You even watching this game, man?”

He waggled the beer, and I muttered, “No, thanks.”

He took a sip, hovering over my shoulder. “Oh, never mind. You’re not paying attention to the game. A study room? With Shelley? Wait, who’s Shelley? Is she the one with the long hair who came to all our games last year? You hardly ever even gave her the time of day.”

Belatedly, I shut down my phone. “What? Huh? No. It’s not … It’s no one you know. I’ve got to do a project for one of my classes. We were assigned to work together. So yeah, I’m headed to the library. To work!”

“Sure, man. Whatever you say. You’ve got lots of projects going on this semester, huh?”

“Yeah, sure. I gotta go,” I muttered.

I hoisted my backpack and took a deep breath as I stood outside the closed door to study room 3C, determined to put an end to my flirtation with Josh. I tapped on the door, and Josh stood as I opened it, rubbing his one good hand on his jeans as if he were nervous.

“Hi,” we said at the same time, both cautiously, both in a whisper. I tried to chalk it up to the fact that we were in the library. His nervous chuckle matched mine as well. I said, “Hey,” as I entered and closed the door.

Josh was dressed in that impeccably casual way of his. A pristine polo, baby blue this time, to match those eyes. His jeans looked brand new and fit him perfectly, the darker-blue denim complimenting the shirt, his belt patterned in lighter and darker blues, the light color matching his shirt exactly. And sure enough, his boat shoes were blue this time. A Hampstead University maroon hoodie was tossed on an ottoman along with his backpack.

The room had a table and wooden chairs but also a few cushioned chairs in the corners and that big comfortable-looking ottoman. Josh stood in front of one of the cushioned chairs, on the far side of the room. I plunked my backpack on the table and dragged a hand through my hair, keeping my focus on the bag as I began.

“Josh …” Then I made the mistake of looking up into those blue eyes. I wanted to dive into the oceans that sparkled within them and live there forever. I had to stop myself from telling him so. I sat at the table and took my phone out of my bag, focusing on it as I spun it on the surface.

“You were right,” I whispered.

I cleared my throat and tried again. “You’re right. I’ve never kissed a guy before.” He didn’t say anything, forcing me to look up. I stopped the phone as he nodded, silently asking me to go on.

“No one knows, Josh. I mean, no one. Not my family, not a friend back home. Not even some clandestine hookup, because there haven’t been any clandestine hookups.”

“Okay,” Josh said as my fingers threaded my hair again.

“And the thing is, I can’t, Josh. I’ve got too much at stake. My career.” I couldn’t help but smile through the stress of the conversation, and Josh responded, his features relaxing as well.

“Coach says a scout is coming to see me this season. I’m on their radar, Josh. I can’t think about being gay, or dating, or coming out, or anything but classes and hockey.

“No distractions,” I said out loud, like I’d said to myself a million times since I was a kid.

“Okay,” Josh said again, and he smiled kindly.

“So, please. Can we keep what happened at the rink between us?”