The Transition （23）

"So? How's it going?" Dani asked as she cut fruit for the upcoming night shift. "I haven't seen you since everything went down. You holdin' up OK?"

"Yeah, I mean, it's totally fine. It really was for the best."

"And what the fuck is that Miss America answer? This ain't a beauty pageant, bitch. It's me. And I can smell a lie like a fart in an elevator, so you better fess up!"

Amara finished pouring a beer and set it down at the server pick-up before standing next to Dani. "Fine. It sucks. Is that what you wanna hear? It fucking sucks, Dan. We went from friends to lovers to almost complete strangers. Aside from having sex once, we've barely spoken a word to each other. He's in his room most of the time, and I'm in mine. It fucking sucks."

It'd been two weeks since the breakup, and things hadn't been going as Amara had hoped. The ride home from the wedding in Tyler's truck was awkward and mostly silent, aside from getting some of the dirty details of Osi's Tinder sex marathon.

"I am sorry for you to hear this, Amara. Forgive me."

"I'm sure she's got some stories of her own. Care to share any, babe? Got anything that could rival that?"

"Shut it, Tyler."

"Seriously, I should not talk this way in front of your girlfriend. I am sorry."

"Go for it. She's not my girlfriend anymore."

"Wait, what?" Hayes had asked, shocked.

"You heard me. We broke up last night. It's over."

Ryan had practically gone into hiding around the apartment. He'd leave his room to grab food, to use the bathroom, or go to practice or his games. Amara had knocked on his door one night in an attempt to open a dialogue with him. When he answered, he was shirtless, and instead of making words, she reached out and ran her hand up his abs, resulting in them clawing at each other furiously, and ultimately with Ryan fucking her raw against the inside of the door frame.

When it was over, Amara had tried to talk to him.

"I'm worried about you."

"Don't be."

"You can't stay holed up in your room like this."

"Watch me."

"Are we just not gonna talk ever again?"

He'd shrugged.

"So, about what just happened…"

"Don't read too much into it. I can have sex with someone and feel nothing. Remember?" He kicked her clothes into the hallway and slammed his bedroom door in her face.

"And it's not that I don't want to talk to him, Dan. I just don't know what to say."

"Nothin' you can say, baby. You broke his heart. You know better than anyone that takes time." She finished stocking glasses in the freezer. "So, uh, what's baby face got to say about all this?"

"Said Ry's really struggling. On-ice performance is suffering big time, and he's worried they might send him down to the Railers."

"The who?"

"It's the Islanders' other minor league team, one step below Bridgeport."

"What a fuckin' team name! Kinda suits him well, no?"

Amara half-smiled. "I know Ry, and that would destroy him."

"You and baby face hooked up again since the wedding?" Dani shook her head, shuddering. "I still hate you, by the way. I can't believe you had them both at the same time and lived to tell about it. My heart would've given out. I'd have legit fucking died."

"It was, uh…it was somethin' alright. But no. We agreed that now isn't really the best timing."

"But you're gonna again, right?"

"Uh, yeah," Amara said quickly. "Honestly, I can't stop thinking about it. About him. I thought I'd get him out of my system and we could move on. Instead, he's like a fucking drug, and I'm itchin' for my next hit."

"Big cock?"

Amara gasped. "Dani!" She gestured to a couple of men sitting at the end of the bar.

"Please, baby. Everyone here knows I'm straight trash. So, is it?"

"Huge," Amara said, smirking. "And his lips, his tongue…ugh. He's such a good kisser. It still blows my mind that he's so young."

"And did he use that tongue anywhere else?"

"OK, no more!" She whipped her lightly with the rag she'd been using to wipe down the bottles. "We're gonna lose business if you scare all the customers away."

"Baby girl, we're not scaring anyone away. Especially not that one," she said, pointing to one of the men wearing a backward New York Giants hat. "He's been staring into your soul for the last half-hour. Hey!" she yelled to him. "What's your name, baby?"

He pointed to himself, and she confirmed. "Jake!" he yelled back.

Dani grabbed Amara from behind by her shoulders and pushed her down to the end of the bar where he was seated. "Jake, this is Amara. She's very single. Stop staring at her and talk to her."

"I, uh, I wasn't…"

"Bullshit."

He smiled. "OK, you caught me. Amara, that's a beautiful name. I'm…"

"Jake," she finished for him, shaking his hand. She sized him up: probably late thirties or early forties, with sharp features, a full beard and mustache, piercing blue eyes, and jacked arms that looked like they were about to bust through his T-shirt sleeves. "It's nice to meet you…Jake."

"You too…Amara."

???

"You wanna run some over-speed drills with me?" Hayes grabbed a towel and wiped himself off. They'd just finished their conditioning workout at the arena gym and had a few hours to spare before tonight's game. Hayes knew Ryan didn't want to go home.

"Yeah, I guess." Hayes offered his hand and pulled Ryan up off the floor as they headed to the locker room to suit up.

"We gotta work on your speed, man. That's one of the things they're most concerned about with you. You're like a drugged-up turtle out there, man."

"I know. Been hearing it my whole life. I'm not a fast skater. And it doesn't help that I don't have a whole lot in the tank right now."

"Then you gotta fuckin' fill that shit back up, Rook. They're…they're talkin' about the Railers, man. Overheard the coaches sayin' they're gonna be making some moves this week. You do not want that."

"Maybe I should just go. I fucking suck here. It's not like I'm moving up anytime soon. It might be nice to be two hours away from her, anyway." He finished lacing up his second skate and stood up.

"Don't say that. It's gonna get better, man. It's a fresh wound right now. You just gotta lick it and move on."

"I fucked her two nights ago."

"That's…not what I meant by lick it, Rook." Hayes finished lacing up his skates, then they grabbed a couple of sticks and headed down the tunnel. "She initiate it?"

"It just happened. She knocked on my door, and I answered shirtless. The rest is history."

"Well, that explains it. I'm about 90 percent sure that woman probably flicks her shit thinkin' about your abs. You knew what you were doing."

"Maybe a little." He skated over to the bench and dumped a bucket of pucks onto the ice.

"You guys still not talking?"

He snatched a puck and dragged it back and forth on the ice in front of him. "We haven't really, just small talk. But I avoid that too, if I can. I've been…I've been doing some writing, actually."

"Yeah?" Hayes stole the puck from Ryan and took off with it, running the first drill. He waited for Ryan to skate in a circle, then moved the puck out to the face-off dot, and transitioned backward while maintaining control. He passed it to Ryan, who took crossovers to the blue line, inside to outside, working his lateral movement, and then cranked it at the net.

"Not bad, but try to keep your feet movin'. You hesitated. You gotta speed up, fast as you can. Push past your comfort zone. Let's go again."

They ran it two more times and skated over to the bench for some water. "So, what've you been writing about? I didn't even know you could write."

Ryan squirted him in the face with his bottle. "Dick."

"You've been writing about dick? Is it one of those smutty hockey romances? Some of that shit's actually pretty good."

"I don't even wanna know why you know that. Nah. Just…my thoughts, getting everything down that I'm thinking. How I'm feeling, what's been triggering my panic attacks. It's…my therapist recommended it, and it's kinda, what's the word? Cathesis? Carthetic?"

Hayes stared at him blankly. "I look like a fuckin' dictionary to you? So, a therapist, huh?"

"Yeah, she's…I meet with her twice a week, all online. I'm learning a lot about myself. I'm mostly doing it for my anxiety, but we talk a lot about the sex stuff, too."

"Oh, you mean how you'll fuck literally anything that isn't nailed to the floor?"

"And some things that are, if the mood strikes just right."

"There's my Rook!" Hayes hugged him. "I like hearin' you joke around again, man. So, what's she have to say about it?"

"It's a direct result of my anxiety. I can't control that, I couldn't control my dad's death, but sex and how I react to it is something I can control. The fact that I write girls off after I fuck ‘em is me trying to get control of something because I feel like I don't have control over anything else in my life."

"Well, that's fuckin' depressing, eh? Hey, at least it's not just because you're a filthy piece of street trash."

"Yeah, at least. She also suggested I apologize to as many of them as I can. Not sure where I'd even start. I mean, we're talking hundreds, and way too many that I don't even remember."

"Hundreds? I'm sorry, did you say hundreds?"

"Hookups included? I'm in the fives, no doubt."

"Oh, Rook. You really are a disgusting whore."

"I know. It's not something I'm proud of. I'm working on it."

"Rook. Hundreds?"

"Why? Is it that bad? What's your body count?"

"Let me think." Hayes paused for a minute. "I think I'm at 43."

"Get the fuck outta here!"

"Or it's…44, now."

"Yeah. Let's not talk about that one," Ryan skated away, and Hayes followed him. Ryan flipped around backward with the puck as Hayes tried to steal it.

"I think you should talk to her, Rook."

"Why? There's nothing to say."

"Because you're supposed to be workin' on your friendship. Wasn't that the agreement?"

"I don't think I can do it. I'm not strong enough."

Ryan stopped skating near the net, and Hayes snowed him. "You don't think you can do what?"

"Be friends with her. I'm thinking…I might need to find a new place to live."

"Jesus. You're gonna break her fuckin' heart, Rook. She's already a mess."

"That makes two of us."

"If you guys would just talk to each other. You can't just cut her off completely. You have to try."

"I can't, man."

"Why not?"

"Because I can't."

"Why the fuck not?"

"Because it fucking hurts!" Ryan yelled, gutturally, his voice echoing throughout the empty arena. "It fucking…hurts. What, so I'm gonna sit around and watch her date other guys, bring them home and listen to her fuck them? And don't even get me started on you and her."

"Here we fuckin' go with this shit again! We haven't done shit since that night, man. Not even a hug."

"Give it time. I heard the way she moaned for you. I watched the way you guys kissed. I'm not a fucking idiot, Hayes."

"It's just sex, Rook. That's all. I fuckin' promise."

"It's never ‘just sex', Hayes. Not with her." He played with a puck as he talked, passing it from the front of his stick to the back, before winding up and cranking it into the boards.

"I'm heading back in. Don't tell her about our conversation today. I don't want her to know about the therapy, or…anything else. Understood?"

"I can't do that, Rook. I can't keep shit like that from her. Make you a deal though. I'll keep quiet if you have this same conversation with her. She's working tonight and we've got games today and tomorrow. So, I'll give you until Sunday, or I'm singin'. Deal?"

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Fine. Deal."