Page 63 of The Has-Been

“Feel okay?” I ask before I start taping the medial and lateral parts. He nods, and I continue. I begin rolling my figure eights, wrapping from ankle to foot, under the arch, and back to the ankle.

When I’m done, Brennan stands and tests it out. He stares down at his ankle, then back to me.

I offer him a look that says, “Well?”

“Reid is full of shit,” he admits. My mouth cracks open as I try to figure out what he’s talking about. “He said you suck at taping, but you’re just as good as Aubrey,” he reports, throwing his head back in laughter as Aubrey walks in and overhears us.

Her face beams as she lays her pack down, hands on her hips, shrugging. “Oh yeah, Reid totally thinks I’m better at ankles. Did he finally grow a pair and tell you?”

I nod slowly. Aubrey only grins, bending at the waist like we’re applauding her for being named athletic trainer of the year.

I know I shouldn’t stare, that for someone who’s trying to keep her away, trying to prevent her from having her heart broken by me again, I shouldn’t be watching her with an aching pit in my stomach.

But I’m a weak man. I’ll always take every opportunity to stare at her, to admire her smile.

Brennan hits me in the gut, knocking the wind from me. I shrug my shoulders, but he mouths: You’re staring. PLAY. IT. COOL. He makes a few slow, easy downward motions as if physically pushing down my anxiousness.

Thankfully, Aubrey doesn’t see us silently arguing as she moves around the room, readying her own pack with supplies for the game. As if she had the same thought as I did earlier, she turns over her shoulder and says to Brennan, “Lay off the penalties tonight; I really don’t want to spend my night stopping nosebleeds every five seconds.”

Brennan holds his hands out, like he’s been accused of murder. “Dude, why are you guys telling me? Reid is the one who lives in the box!”

We all laugh together, shaking our heads.

He’s not wrong.

As we begin taping and prepping for the game, I don’t think any more about it.

Reid walks in, the last to be prepped. I shoot him a look, but he just bops his head to the music, ignoring my stares. His jaw is set, his fingers twitching, like he can’t sit still.

When Aubrey and I head toward the ice, I know we are going to be in for a long night. My best friend is going to be hell on skates.

Once it’s time for the boys to take the ice, Aubrey and I find our spots on the bench.

From the stands, I hear someone yell, getting Aubrey’s attention. I watch as she finds an opening to greet Reese and June through.

It seems Reese upheld her end of the bet she lost on trivia night—she’s wearing jeans, sneakers, and an oversized jersey. But when she turns around after talking with Aubrey, I see a familiar last name…but that is definitely not his number spread across her back.

I cover my laughter with my palm. Reid did not do that.

But a snort escapes me as I take another look. Oh, he absolutely did.

Beneath Reid’s last name, the number 69 is clearly stitched over his actual number, 05.

I yell out, using the nickname Reid has gifted Reese. “Looking good, Highlighter!”

Reese frowns, a bold middle finger shooting in my direction.

The arena goes dark as the announcer lists off our starters for tonight’s game. A voice booms, deep echoes vibrating my skull as he reads off the list, the boys skating out as they are announced, our home crowd going wild and cheering louder and louder each time.

“And finally, taking the ice for the home team, the captain, #16, Brennan Barnes!”

The crowd cheers loudly as Aubrey elbows me in the ribs so hard she nearly knocks the wind from me. She points to where Reese and June sit. And when the lights go up, all I can see is Reese staring daggers in Morgan’s direction.

I don’t think she’s a fan of his prank.

But when I find the ice and my best friend, Reid doesn’t even glance up at her. No, he’s wearing a straight face as he downright refuses to meet the handshake of Chadlington’s captain, Tatum Hart.

Aubrey seems to take note because she mentions, “This is going to be a long game, isn’t it?”