Page 92 of The Overtime Persuasive

“See? That—” I wave my hand in his general direction. “The one-upping. You get here, barely punch your first-time card and bam! You’re putting your hand up for the alternate spot.”

“And?”

“And nothing.” I tap a puck lightly with my stick. “Nothing, because you’d be a great alternate and I know you’re a good leader, Tripp. That’s what kills me.”

He watches me for a second before he shakes his head. “Well, I was traded, Eva is a rockstar, and why not put myself forward? If you don’t ask, you don’t get.”

“It’s my perspective.” I hold my hands out in front of me. “I’m telling you how it looked from where I was standing.”

“Look at it this way,” Tripp says as he leans on his stick. “Your team picked up a good player and Eva found someone to rent her empty apartment.”

My lips want to purse, but they can’t because they’re too busy twitching. “When you put it like that, of course it sounds reasonable.”

“How else would I put it, Snyder?”

I start to argue, then stop.

Tripp’s smile fades as he studies me. “You really thought I wanted all of it, didn’t you?”

I look down at the ice and nod. “I want to say no, because it’s easier, but—yeah. I thought you wanted everything.”

Tripp doesn’t challenge my words. Instead, we skate a pair of slow laps, keeping several feet between us. Our blades cut through the quiet, crossing and recrossing the lines painted beneath the ice.

When we reach the far end, Tripp stops near the boards.

“Okay,” he says. “I can see how it looked from where you were standing. I still think you need therapy for it, but I get it.”

I feel a huge weight suddenly lift from my shoulders. “Thank you.”

“I said I can see it,” he says, hitting me in the arm. “I didn’t say it made sense.”

I smack him back. “Your empathy needs some work.”

He looks up toward the empty seats, resting both hands on the top of his stick. “You want to know the stupid part? I always thought you had what I wanted.”

That stops me. “What?”

Tripp gives a quiet laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “You have a family who shows up to every game. Guys who would go through a wall for you. Everywhere you played, you belonged there.”

“You belonged too.”

“Ah,” he says, lifting a hand. “I played well. That isn’t the same thing. You made me better. Every time I saw your name on a roster, I knew I had to show up ready. If I got around you once, you made sure it didn’t happen again. If you shut me down, I spent the next week figuring out another way through.”

“So you did enjoy torturing me.”

“Immensely.” His smile appears, then softens. “But I never wanted to take anything from you. I wanted to play beside you.”

“For the record,” I begin, my words slow, “you made me better, too.”

“That’s why when the Dominion called, I was excited,” he says. “Not only because they’d just won a championship or because I needed a fresh start. I thought maybe we’d finally figure out how good we could be when we weren’t trying to beat each other.”

“Great. I love finding out that I’m a jerk.” I drag one glove over the back of my neck. “Are you saying you want to be friends?”

“Let’s not make it sound pathetic.”

“But, that’s kind of what you said.”

“I said I wanted to play beside you, I didn’t say anything about being friends.”