Chapter 5

5

MABEL

Popcorn is the perfect snack for hockey. It’s not just a tradition; it’s perfect because you can mindlessly scoop it into your mouth over and over while watching the game and never really get full because it’s all air. But it is crunchy. And salty. My favorite things.

I settle on Marek’s couch with a big bag of popcorn I bought earlier to watch the Storm game. I don’t always get to watch Marek’s games; there are too many during the season, geez, they play eighty-two games which is insane. But I like to watch when I can.

The team is coming onto the ice for the anthems and the camera zooms in on Ben as he enters. I’m startled at the intense look on his face – eyes focused, jaw set, mouth firm. He’s such a quiet guy off the ice, friendly enough but reserved. Seeing that fierceness on his face is… hot.

He’s one of the starting players so he lines up on the blue line as the anthem plays. He’s the biggest player out there. I watch him drop his head forward, his feet sliding back and forth on his blades. Then he puts on his helmet and lines up at the faceoff circle.

Ah, shit.

This is all bringing back high school – going to Marek’s games, watching Ben, getting all worked up. My friends all loved the hockey players and I loved that I had an in with the team because of my brother. I also loved that I had an “in” with Ben.

I blow out a long sigh. That crush never worked out for me. I tried so hard that last year of high school to get him to notice me, and oh yeah, he noticed me, but not in the way I wanted.

My friends and I got invited to parties where hockey players were. Ben drank water and stood in the corner despite our best efforts to flirt with him. I wasn’t the only girl interested in him; his standoffishness and brooding expression intrigued all of us. My friend Jenny went out with him once. I was so jealous, but after, she told us not to bother. According to her, Ben had no rizz and was the most boring date ever. That didn’t deter me; he fascinated me, with his aloof demeanor, his impressive hockey skills, his rare smile that was surprisingly sweet with an intriguing hint of shyness.

But Ben avoided me like I had Ebola, especially after that unfortunate incident where I exposed his dinosaur boxer shorts. It kind of hurt.

On his first shift, Ben lays a crushing hit on a Cyclone player that has the crowd cheering.

Holy crappleberries.

That seems to set the tone for the game, with a lot of fast action and physical play.

The Storm get possession of the puck and with some slick passes, take it out of their zone, through the neutral zone, and in on the Cyclone’s net. The first shot is kicked away by the goalie but Ben gets the rebound and quickly snaps it into the net.

“Yeah!” I throw my arms in the air. “Wooooo!”

I feel unreasonably proud of him as I watch the replays.

He’s a good player. I knew that in high school. He and Marek were both scouted by NHL teams and expected to be drafted. Then they went away to different colleges, got drafted by different teams, and my passionate crush faded.

This is bringing it all back.

Which is bonkers because I’m broken-hearted and depressed. My boyfriend, who I loved, turned out to be an abusive, raging narcissist. My whole life has been blown up. I should not be thinking horny thoughts about anyone, let alone Marek’s friend. Who avoided me in high school. Who lives here right now.

Awkward.

Shocker. Me making things awkward.

I’m just lonely. I miss Julian. Sort of. There’s no way I’m getting involved with anyone ever again. Or at least not for a long time. I need to get my life back in order and sort my shit out.

Marek’s been kind of down about how they’ve been playing this year, but this is a pretty good game. Surprisingly intense. There are also a lot of turnovers that make me cringe and a lot of passing instead of shooting at the net. Ben gets an amazing chance to score when he and Carson Alford get a two-on-one, but when he passes it to Carson, the center misses it – oh my God! And there goes that chance to go ahead. But Carson redeems himself by chasing the puck, battling hard for it along the boards and finally getting it out to Hakim at the blue line, who one-times it into the net, tying it three-all.

Near the end of the third period, the score still tied, a Cyclone player hits a Storm player from behind into the boards, knocking his helmet right off and dropping him to the ice. The crowd shouts with outrage and within two seconds, Ben has barreled up to the Cyclone player and dropped his gloves. The other guy drops his mitts too, and they go.

“Oh my God!” I cover my mouth as I watch the fight.

They dance around and throw hands until Ben decisively takes the guy to the ice. He kneels closer and says something in the guy’s ear I’d love to hear as the linesmen swoop in and pull him off.

The crowd is cheering for Ben as he skates to the penalty box.

I have to smile. That was badass.

The player who took that ugly hit – number eighty-six – seems okay, thankfully, and the Storm appear energized by this after the next faceoff. They have a power play, yay, and they quickly go on the attack, scoring a beautiful power play goal with less than two minutes to go in the game.

“Yessss!” I beam as I watch them celebrate. “That’s it, baby. That’s the game. Pull your goalie,” I advise the Cyclone. “That’s it… okay, boys…” I’m kicking my feet on the floor, eyes fixed on the action as the Cyclone control the puck in our end, passing, passing, and then Ben intercepts a pass and quickly shoots the puck down the ice where it smoothly glides into the empty net. “Yeah!”

I fall back into the couch cushions, smiling. “Go Storm!”

This is the happiest I’ve felt in weeks. It just took a hockey game. Weird.

Ben is one of the players the media talks to after the game. I suck on my bottom lip as I watch him stand in front of the Storm backdrop.

“Ben, it felt like you came to play tonight,” one of the reporters says. “Did you as a team have something to prove tonight against the Cyclone?”

Ben tugs at the brim of his ball cap and looks down. “Uh, yeah, I guess.”

There’s an awkward pause. Is that all he’s going to say?

As if he realizes that’s not enough, he says, still not looking up and kind of mumbling, “For sure we remember them beating us last year and that maybe gave us a little extra boost, but there were some things we could definitely have done better.”

There’s another pause, as if the reporters are waiting for him to elaborate, and then one guy says, “That fight with Horák seemed to fire your team up. Was that what you were thinking?”

“I was thinking that was a dirty hit,” Ben mumbles.

I hear the reporters all chuckle.

“We’re a team,” Ben adds. “We’ve got each other’s backs.”

I nod in agreement.

“What things do you think you could have done better tonight?” a reporter asks.

This time Ben is more forthcoming, listing some of the Storm’s problems. But then he kind of regroups and says, “We did some good things too, though. I really liked our power play tonight.”

I purse my lips and nod again. He’s right. I like how he gives his teammates credit. And he sounds more confident. Despite my past crush on him, I can admit he’s not really the best at public speaking.

He’s always been like that – quiet, reserved. Never liked being the center of attention. I bet he hates having to be interviewed on camera.

I’m still awake but in bed – in bed, meaning on the couch with my pillow and blankets – when Marek and Ben get home.

“Hey.” Marek strides to the kitchen and fills a glass of water from the dispenser on the fridge.

“Hey.” I push myself up, setting down my book. “Congrats on the win.”

“Thanks.”

Ben walks to the kitchen, too, wearing his game-day suit and tie. He opens the fridge and pulls out a bottle of chocolate milk, which he cracks open and drinks.

I take in his suit and try to keep my expression neutral at the long baggy pants and loose jacket. “Two goals, Ben. You played great.”

“Thanks.”

His usual chatty self. I smile. “And a fight.”

“Yeah.” He shakes his head.

“We needed that win,” Marek says. “Especially against the Cyclone.”

“Right?” Ben leans against the counter. “Everyone really brought the energy tonight. I liked it.” He rubs his chin. “We gotta fix those sloppy passes. If I’d made that pass cleaner Alfie would’ve scored.”

“He was a step behind the play,” Marek argues. “It wasn’t your pass that was the problem.”

“He’s right,” I speak up.

They both look at me.

“I watched the replays.” I smile. “But you’re right, Ben, there was a lot of sloppy passing.”

He lifts an eyebrow in a way that sets off some heat in my lower belly. God, he’s still handsome. More handsome, even.

“Thanks for your analysis,” Marek says with affectionate sarcasm.

I roll my eyes. “Goodnight.” I pull the covers up over my head and slide down into my makeshift bed.

I don’t go to sleep, though, because I’m hyper aware of Ben here, my ears attuned to the noises of the guys turning off lights and heading to their rooms.

I imagine Ben behind his closed door taking his suit off, first the jacket, then the too-long and too-loose pants and… God, stop this, you idiot!

There can be none of that while I’m staying here. I can’t be developing another crush on Ben so quickly. It’s some kind of rebound thing. I have way more important things to focus on right now.

I spend the next few days with my laptop, updating my resume, contacting people for references, and searching out job postings. New York Public Library – oh hell, yeah. School librarian – okay, sure. Law librarian? Yeah, I’m qualified, but that’s not my experience. Brooklyn Library? I nibble my lip. I guess Brooklyn could be okay. More law librarian postings. Wow. There are a lot of those. There are university jobs for project managers in data collection. Um… maybe?

My first responses come back and they’re positive. Yay! I schedule screening interviews and start preparing myself, thinking of possible questions and answers, going through my old performance reviews, which were always stellar. That makes me a little wistful for the job I gave up, but after a moment of submersing myself in pity I rally and straighten my shoulders and focus on now. Change is good. It’ll all be fine.

Marek and Ben are away on a road trip to Canada, so I have the place to myself for a few days. The first day is awkward because Marek’s cleaning lady comes, who’s actually a girl my age. Her name is Mariya. She’s gorgeous and has an accent. I feel guilty for sitting around while she cleans, so I help her and hear all about her family in Ukraine, in between her telling me to sit down and not do her job.

Then I’m alone. I kind of like the energy the guys bring when they’re around, although I have to admit it’s been a bit distracting running into Ben wearing nothing but a towel around his waist or shirtless in the kitchen making his breakfast. Doing laundry in nothing but a pair of athletic shorts. Holy Roman Empire, he is high-key hot. Somehow my hurt feelings from his rejection in high school have been overtaken by thirst.

I’m in the middle of a Zoom interview when they get home. My eyes widen in panic, afraid they’ll start yammering about hockey or something. Out of camera view, I lift a hand and frantically wave it at them without turning away from the screen.

Luckily, they get my message, but they have to walk behind me to get to the kitchen. I bite back a smile when Marek gets down on the floor and army crawls from the door to the kitchen.

“How well can you perform under pressure?” the interviewer asks.

“Well.” I pause. “I’m not sure I know all the lyrics, but I can try my best.”

There’s a beat of silence then a shocked grunt from the kitchen behind me and choking laughter. I blink, but ignore them.

Then the recruiter bursts out laughing. Whew.

“I’m kidding,” I say lightly. “A little joke to break the tension. In fact, that is how I deal with pressure. I believe in being mentally flexible. One thing I do is mentally distance myself from my thoughts, because the things we think under pressure are often not true, thinking things like ‘I can’t do this.’ Libraries are being tasked with providing more services for their communities with continually shrinking budgets, and librarians are being asked to take on responsibilities that go far beyond their job description. In my previous position, we had a significant number of patrons who needed social services for issues like homelessness, unemployment… drug dependency. There were medical emergencies, fights, sexual harassment. These situations required me to respond promptly and professionally, while trying to help the person in front of me.

“What I try to do is be aware of my emotions in the situation and recognize if I’m nervous or afraid or frustrated. I try not to get overwhelmed by my emotions by changing my self-talk and remembering my values so that I can say and do things consistent with my values and not my emotions.”

The interviewer nods and segues into the next question. “Tell us about one of those incidents. What was the outcome and how did you resolve the problem?”

I tell the story of the day I’d noticed that a man who seemed to be sleeping in a chair was actually unresponsive, his lips turning blue. “We’d been provided with naloxone and the training on how to use it, so I quickly told one of my colleagues to call 911 and I got one of the kits and injected it into his leg and then his arm.” I pause, the memory still a bit emotional. “He kind of fluttered his eyes and gurgled, so he was alive. I was glad we had the Narcan to deal with it. Unfortunately, the same things that make libraries ideal places for reading and studying also make them appealing places for consuming drugs.”

We wrap up the interview shortly after. She promises to be in touch, and I guess I have to keep my fingers crossed that it will be for a second interview. Once my camera and mic are off, I jump and face Marek and Ben. “Geez, you guys! They could have heard you laughing at me!”

Marek grins. “I can’t believe you said that in a job interview. Under pressure. Ha.”

“It was pretty funny,” Ben says.

I catch my lower lip between my teeth. “Thanks.”

“You aren’t going to get the job making jokes like that,” Marek says.

I frown and walk around the couch toward them. “Why not?”

Their gazes drop from my suit jacket and blouse to the baggy sweats I’m wearing on my bottom half.

“Nice outfit.” Marek grins again.

“Whatever. It was a Zoom interview. They couldn’t see my pants.” I take off the jacket.

“Okay. As long as you know not to dress like that when you go meet with them. And don’t make bad jokes.”

“I’ll make all the jokes I want. What do you know about job interviews? You’ve never had a real job in your life.”

“We had to interview with teams when we were getting drafted,” Ben says. “Worst days of my life.”

“Bah. Those were nothing.” Marek waves a hand.

“Maybe for you.” Ben grimaces. “I felt like I was being waterboarded the whole time.”

“They ask the same things over and over – our background, our family, who influenced us growing up.”

Ben’s eyebrows shoot up. “Once they asked me what I wanted people to say at my funeral. I didn’t practice for that one. I went completely blank.”

“Good thing you can play hockey.” Marek smirks.

“Tell me about it.” Ben shakes his head. “Another team asked, ‘What would you do if you could go back in time and learn something sooner, and how would it change things?’” He makes a sound of disgust. “I hate being put on the spot.”

I watch him with interest, fascinated with his aversion to these questions. I plant my butt on a stool, prop my chin on my fist, and ask, “What did you say?”

He rubs his forehead. “After a few long painful minutes of silence, I told them that after my dad passed away I realized how short life is. I realized I should have told him how much I loved him and appreciated everything he did for me so I could play hockey. We should never take anything for granted because tomorrow’s not guaranteed.”

“Oh.” Emotion swells up inside me, like a wave of water. I blink at the sting of unexpected tears. I didn’t know his dad had passed away.

“They were probably looking for something hockey related. Instead I got all heavy on them.” He rolls his eyes.

“I think that probably told them a lot about you as a person,” I say softly. “Is that the team that drafted you?”

“Yeah.”

I nod. “They’re looking for character, not just hockey skills.”

“That’s true,” Marek confirms. “One team asked my Uber score.”

Ben and I burst out laughing.

“That could tell them something about your character,” I chortle.

He grins. “Okay, I have to change and go meet Patrick.” His agent. “You’re coming out tonight, right?” he says to Ben.

“Uh. Maybe.”

Marek gives him a look. “I’ll talk to you later.” He disappears into his bedroom.

“Where are you going tonight?” I ask.

“Eh, some of the guys want to go play pool at a bar.”

“You don’t like pool?”

“I don’t like people.”

I actually burst out laughing. Then I see he’s not joking. “Oh.” I tip my head. “Really?”

“Eh… I like some people. I mostly don’t like a lot of people together.”

“It’s called a party.”

His lips twitch. “Some call it that, yeah. Others call it torture.”

I remember those high school parties. I thought everyone loved parties. Who wouldn’t? Friends, fun, flirting. Usually some (at that time illegal) beverages and cannabis. Dancing. What’s not to like?

“I’m not very outgoing,” he adds unnecessarily.

I nod. “Yeah. But they’re your friends.”

“Which is the only reason I might go. I don’t like strangers.”

“Strangers are friends you haven’t met yet.”

He barks out a laugh, startling me. “Jesus.”

“I didn’t make that up. William Butler Yeats said that.”

“I don’t care who said it, they obviously never met an introvert.”

I smile. “So you don’t like making friends.”

“It’s a lot of work.”

I laugh. “I never thought of it like that. I could come with you.”

He frowns. “Why?”

“I can be… like, your wingman.”

“I’m not looking for a date.”

“I mean a friends wingman. Not for romantic connections. Just friends. I do it for people all the time. I never even realized it until my college friend Sage told me she couldn’t go to a party without me because she’d end up hiding in the bathroom all night.”

He eyes me. “I usually find the dog and hang out with them.”

I crack up. “You know, I sort of understand that. Dogs are better than people.”

“Oh, yeah. And thanks, but I don’t think I’ll go tonight. We have a practice in the morning.”

“But the other guys are going out.”

“It’s an optional practice.”

“Ah. Okay. Well, I better get back to job hunting.” I slide off the stool.

As I sit down at my laptop again, Ben says, “What you said in that interview… about dealing with pressure…”

“My bad joke?”

“No, no. The part about mentally distancing yourself from your emotions…”

I turn to face him. “Yeah?”

“I thought that was really good.”

I smile. “Oh. Thanks.”

“Also… you saved a guy’s life.”

I bite my lip and nod.

“That’s impressive.” He walks away.

Crappleberries. Back in high school I thought he was stuck-up and rude, but now… I’m not so sure.