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“I thought it’d be, like, counterbalanced by the sun. I dunno. It’s cold, I can’t be logical when it’s cold.”
“Well, I’m not letting you quit.” I knelt down and picked up her skates to get them on for her. “Plus, I’m sure it’ll warm up once we get moving.”
“How dare you make me follow through with something I wanted to do? Are you trying to make me grow as a person?”
“Everyone should always be growing.” I laced up her skates and stood, pulling her along with me. “Give it ten minutes and if you’re still miserable, we’ll go.”
“Oh, you’re gonna be such a good dad. Are you all sweet and patient because you’re captain? Is that, like, a qualifier?”
“I don’t think the guys would call me sweet.” Holding hands and with unsteady feet, we made our way to the rink entrance and stepped onto the ice.
“Do you think you’re a hard-ass on the … field? Is that the right word?”
“Field or pitch, either’s right. And … I was definitely a hard-ass at times, trying to push everyone to do their best during practice, to really grow as players. I think when someone gets in the league right out of college, sometimes even younger, they let themselves get wrapped up in that accomplishment and forget that there’s still room to grow. Hopefully I’ve helped them push past that mindset.”
“How do you do that?” Leah asked, eyes down on the ice as she shuffled forward, one hand in mine and the other balanced on the wall. Given how deep her teeth had sunken into her bottom lip, I figured she was asking for the distraction.
“I try to focus my comments on how to improve, not what they did wrong.”
“That’s what I try to do with my kids.” She smiled softly. “You can really tell who doesn’t get that sort of feedback at home and how much it helps them.”
“You like being a teacher?” These sorts of conversations, the basic job talk, was something we hadn’t gotten to, something Leah had specifically avoided. And I was buzzing with excitement to know her better. The only disappointing thing was I couldn’t take notes right now.
“Overall? Yeah. There’re the normal downfalls to being a teacher, the low pay, the disrespectful parents, kids that mimic said parents. But I wouldn’t want any other job, just some … adjustments.” As we made our way past the entrance, I pulled Leah closer to me, just enough so that only her fingertips grazed over the railing. “What about you? Did you always wanna be a professional ball player?”
“Oh god no.” I laughed, taking a little bit of a risk and tucking her under my arm, praying the awkwardness was worth the warmth being cuddled together provided. “When I was younger, I assumed I’d get some normal, boring, well-paying job like an accountant. Something I could provide for my mom with. She worked her ass off raising me, paying for soccer and everything. It wasn’t until junior year of high school, when colleges were calling to recruit me, that I realized it was something I could do as a career. And then it took a couple years in college to take it seriously enough to study for it.”
“Study?” She let go of the wall and settled into my side, one arm slipping under my shirt, exposing my skin to the cold. I couldn’t bring myself to complain though, I liked her using me in any way, even simplistic ones.
“My teammates, other players, old games, tactics, physics.”
“Oh shit, if soccer involves math, not sure I’ll be able to watch you play then,” she joked.
“All you need to know when watching is which goal we’re aiming for.”
“Uh-huh. Do you score a lot of goals?”
“No, I’m on defense. Most of my time on the pitch is spent stealing the ball back from the other team.”
“So if you take the ball from someone, I should cheer?”
“I’d appreciate it.” I squeezed her in tighter and she giggled as we wobbled from the sudden movement. After we straightened out, we were silent for a few laps around the rink, nestled snugly against each other.
“It’s weird that this is our first date, isn’t it?”
“Well given that you’re already four months pregnant, yes.” She nudged her elbow into my side, but didn’t push me away. I laughed at her, but it died off with a swell of nerves. “Does it feel … unnatural?”
I needed to constantly remind myself that this relationship process was going to look different for her, that my focus should be on making her feel secure and not making her my partner. But this didn’t feel like a hangout or a first date, it felt natural. We’d known each other for a whopping four months, didn’t speak for two of those, and yet this felt like what I wanted every free day for the rest of my life to be. That realization was so warm and comforting, but I knew if I told Leah, tried to share that warmth, it’d scare her. And that knowledge stung sharper than I expected.
“No. It’s weird, but not unnatural.” Her voice was quiet and she’d rested her head on my shoulder so I couldn’t look her in the eye, but I could see the tips of her ears turning red.
I didn’t point it out, just kissed the top of her head. This was a case of waiting for the right moment and being ready when it came. And I was sure as hell going to be ready.
The Trash Talk
A clip from the Destin Dastards social media page
Footage of the Destin Dastards team practicing at their home stadium plays, with a text overlay that reads, "How the Dastards prep for the championship game." The image shifts to Karan Sharma, an Indian man in his late thirties, wearing a team polo.
