Chapter 2

Chapter Two

TORIN JONAH

I don’t need to be here for practice. I choose to be because I can watch Hugo without anyone questioning me why I’m not dancing around and making a fool of myself dressed as a seal.

I’m used to being invisible. In fact, I like it that way. I don’t know if it’s social anxiety or just extreme awkward shyness, but I freeze up whenever someone talks to me. I’ve been told therapy can help get me out of it but… even that feels too big.

One of the reasons I have a job as a mascot is so I can hide. No one is looking at me . They’re looking at Surry the Seal. When I’m Surry, I’m a different person. In fact, I’m not a person at all. I’m a character. I’m playing a part.

There’s a lot of freedom in that, and I enjoy it a lot. Knowing that no one sees me allows me to relax and enjoy what I’m doing.

It’s not a career, I know that. Management has found a bunch of things for me to do that’s behind the scenes since being the mascot is less than a part-time job. Not only am I Surry for only half the games, but it’s a few hours three or four nights a week.

Finding other work where I wasn’t constantly faced with having to speak to people has been a challenge. I’m very thankful for L.A.’s management. They were so kind to me, understood my plight, and found me enough work to keep me on full-time with little interaction with other people, and on a salary that I can afford a loft apartment at the edge of the city .

When practice is over, I head for the chute and pause to let the players leave. I almost always wait until they’re all gone before I get on the ice and pick up the pucks. This isn’t really on my list of responsibilities, but I don’t mind doing it.

It gives me a reason to hang out and get close to Hugo for just a minute.

Except he and Winslow are still on the ice. They remain there talking for quite a while. I know at this point I’m going to start looking like a creep if I stare. I am staring.

Hugo is a big man, made even bigger because of his pads and the height added by his skates. I can’t help but stare at him, wondering what it would be like to be wrapped in his big arms. For him to turn that big smile on me.

My chest aches. I’ve been pining after Hugo Bladen since I started with L.A. two years ago. He was the first one from the team to notice me. Even before that, I was enchanted but the fact he saw me, introduced himself and asked my name? The fact he made an effort to know me?

There’s really no question at all why I’m in love with this man.

Everything inside me jumps as he and Winslow finally head for the chute. I remain perfectly still. When I do, I tend to blend into the background. It’s like a superpower. As long as I don’t move, I’m a chameleon or an octopus and become a part of my surroundings. This time is no different. Winslow doesn’t notice me.

But Hugo does. He gives me a big smile. “Hi, Torin,” he says.

I feel myself instantly turn as red as a boiled lobster. I’m so hot I can feel the heat radiating from my cheeks. “Hi,” I squeak back, my voice barely audible and definitely embarrassing. Did he hear the way it cracked?

Hugo continues to smile at me as he walks by. When he turns away, I look at Winslow. He, like nearly everyone else who witnesses Hugo saying hi to me, looks at me as if he’s startled that I’m there. He’s a kind guy though, so he smiles and gives me an up nod on his way by.

His acknowledgment doesn’t do as much as Hugo’s. Obviously. But I’m left even more awkward and fidgety that he said hi, too. Doesn’t matter that it wasn’t verbal. If someone sees me, that’s usually the kind of interaction I get .

I imagine they think I’m antisocial. A loner.

Growing up, that’s how I was treated, too. I’m inclined to believe I do have a form of social anxiety because I much preferred to remain unseen. I had one teacher in fifth grade who was an absolute terror. She went out of her way to embarrass everyone in class.

I was her favorite target.

There was a day right before Christmas break when I came home and immediately had a panic attack. It was so bad, my father took me to the hospital. Once I was able to breathe again, I told him and the emergency doctor what was happening.

The fury my father displayed was alarming. We drove straight back to the school, but he left me in the car, thankfully. He was inside for almost an hour.

After break, I was moved into a different classroom and left alone. The teacher from the previous class, Mrs. Shehe, was suspended or fired or something. I didn’t see her for the rest of the year.

I was pretty much left alone after that until high school when kids became bigger bullies. My freshman year was miserable, but thankfully, they seemed to get bored with me and moved on.

It was a boring, lonely, quiet existence. I know my parents worried about my future if I couldn’t get over it or at the very least, learn to cope. I feared what it meant for work. The ‘real world’ was a fucking nightmare up until two years ago when I got this job with L.A. I was constantly having panic attacks and losing my shit.

My parents aren’t thrilled with the fact I’m a mascot as my career . But the thing is, there’s lots of growth available within the Los Angeles Golden Tides. I can literally go anywhere or do anything. Management knows about my anxiety and is willing to work with me. That’s more understanding and patience than nearly every single person in my life has given me.

So yes, I’m a mascot now, but that doesn’t mean I’m stuck in this job for the rest of my life. It just means I’m here while I’m comfortable and maybe someday, I’ll find a way to stop hiding behind the seal mask.

I take my time on the ice, gathering the pucks in a bucket and hauling them back to where it belongs with the rest of equipment storage. Then I head to my ‘office’ which is basically a large conference room they converted into my seal cave. There are three different costumes. The difference is mostly size, but there are other nuances too.

The rest of the room is filled with the merchandise I’m allowed to give out at games. I reorder once every couple months and am constantly looking for some cool things.

Our first game is in ten days and, while it’s a little early, I pull some items from their bins and lay them out on the table. I usually do this the day before a game, planning ahead as to what I’m going to give away.

The table is divided into five sections—three periods and two intermissions. The periods are usually filled with stuffed animals and pucks and shit that I will carry around and hand out from time to time as I make my rounds through the stands. The intermissions get the bigger things, like T-shirts and foam fingers and seal masks.

I’m allowed to buy and do a lot of cool things because management says that since I’ve been in the stands, the audience has been more vocal. Louder. A lot more involved. I keep them animated and interactive. A happy audience is an audience that returns, spends money, and tells their friends.

It helps that we had a decent season last season. Winning also brings in more fans. Like it or not, so many supposed fans are actually just fair weather fans. They’re there to support and spend money as long as we’re winning. That’s life, I suppose.

My office is along the primary corridor close to the exit. Generally, I keep my door cracked when I’m in here. Because I’m a creep and I can hear people moving through the hall more clearly. Plus, I can listen for Hugo.

I’m not a creep. I don’t stalk him or anything. But I definitely watch from afar as often as I can here at the arena. I’m supposed to be here. And my work often takes me around the team. So it’s not stalking in a creepy way!

It doesn’t take me long to set up my first game day giveaways. So now I’m lingering around as I wait. Hugo will be one of the last to leave. Not just because he and Winslow were hanging out on the ice for a while after practice, but because he takes really long showers. Okay, yes, I know this particular detail because I’m a slight creep .

Eventually, I hear him and Winslow moving down the hall. Waiting for them to pass, I hurry to the door and flick off my light and follow as silently as I can.

Okay, this part in particular is slightly stalkery. I can totally admit that! And I’m only slightly horrified by myself.

They step outside and I follow, pausing at the door to watch through the dark tinted glass. There’s almost always a puck bunny or two waiting outside, and today is no different. My stomach sinks when I see Hugo turn that big, beaming, flirty smile toward one. He drapes his arm over her shoulders and steers her toward his car.

I notice he’s a complete gentleman and opens the door for her. He even takes her hand and assists her in sitting. He waits until she’s situated before shutting her door and making his way to his own side of the vehicle.

Then they drive off.

Fuck, the ache in my chest.

Swallowing, I push the door open and step outside. This is stupid. Not even silly, but fucking stupid. Not just because I’m being a weirdo and pining after a man who has given me no indication he’s interested in me as more than someone he says hello to, but he’s fucking straight. There’s no one more straight than this man. He brings a different girl home practically every single night!

I climb into my car and work through some breathing exercises that I typically reserve for panic attacks, though I’m not feeling anxious. I’m feeling sick to my stomach and… sad. So damn sad.

This is unhealthy. I know that. Just like every other day I leave the arena and watch Hugo take another girl home, I spend the hour drive home wallowing in my longing.

Once there, I say hi to Fish Hugo and then plop myself in front of my computer and flick it on. I play Creature Community; it’s a social simulation video game where your character is a human living alongside anthropomorphic animals within a village. You do everyday activities like fishing, hunting, gardening, questing, and whatever. It’s a cutesy, cartoonish game that’s meant to offer an escape while still building a community and offering social interactions by visiting other people’s villages and homesteads.

I don’t find it nearly as difficult to talk to someone online. They can’t see me. All they see is my character. Which is currently wearing a bunny costume, I think.

While my computer boots up, I pull out my phone and open the empty chat between me and Hugo. The franchise has a portal where all players’ phone numbers are listed. It’s used in case of emergency, with a phone tree telling you who calls who.

It’s rather old school, actually. We have a messaging system now that notifies everyone via text all at once. But the index of phone numbers remains.

I may have creeped a little and programmed Hugo’s phone number into my phone so I can stare at it and pretend. I didn’t even save it as his whole name because it felt too impersonal. If I just have him programmed as ‘Hugo,’ it appears like we’re friends. Sometimes, I even type a message as if we’re friends. Or lovers.

Then I erase it. It’s just pretend.

I type in ‘hi’ and then stare, wishing I were brave enough to send even that little bit. Open a dialogue, if you will.

My computer beeps and I glance up. Reaching awkwardly with my left hand across the keyboard instead of putting my phone down, I type my security pin on my 10-key.

When my computer accepts it, I turn my attention back to my phone and nearly choke on my tongue. Oh no.

Oh no!

Oh no, no, no, no, no.

My stomach churns and my mouth goes dry. Everything inside me quivers as my head spins. How did I accidentally hit send? The text went through! I’m staring at a chat that now has something in it. My text. To Hugo Bladen. My chest tightens and my breathing becomes shallow.

How do I take it back?

I’m shocked when I receive a text back.

Hugo

Hey!

I stare, unsure what to do. He responded? Ohmigod, he responded! I chew my lip for a minute as I determine where I’m supposed to go from here. I’m nearly to the point where I perform an internet search for ‘how do I follow up ‘hey’ from a boy I’m in love with?’. Too far, right?

Another text from him makes me jump. Chills race down my body.

Hugo

What’s up?

Fuck. Me. Are we having a conversation?

Not if I don’t respond.

Chewing the inside of my lip, I take a deep breath and remind myself that this is just like when I’m in my game. No different. I’m behind a screen. I can just be me without anyone looking at me.

After another deep inhale, I open my eyes and look at my phone.

Me

Playing a game online. Wbu?

Do people still use wbu? Ugh. I’m lame, aren’t I?

Hugo

Not a thing.

I nearly ask him about the girl he left with, but I think that might be far too creepy. Before I’m tasked with how to make this conversation continue, I receive another message. I must be exhausting to have a conversation with since the other person has to carry it.

Hugo

What game are you playing?

That’s an easy question, at least.

Me

Creature Community

Of course, once I tell him, I feel really lame.

Hugo

Yeah? Is it any good?

Me

I find it relaxing. It’s not some epic fantasy game that’s super complicated. It’s kitschy and relaxing. Like life but without all the stressors. You can build anything you want to build for your homestead, talk to humanoid animals, and visit other players’ villages.

I glance up and look at my little house. It’s pink, like my real apartment is. Pink everywhere. Everything. Even my trash bags. But in the game, I also have a Hugo at home. A husband.

Fuck, I’m lame as fuck.

Hugo

Cool. What do you play on? What game system?

Me

I’m on the computer. But I think you can download it on most consoles.

Hugo

Tablet?

My stomach dances, but it’s not necessarily a pleasant feeling. Are we really talking about this game right now?

Me

Probably? I’m not sure.

There’s a pause before Hugo responds.

Hugo

Yep, just found it. I’m downloading it now. Then you can teach me how to play.

My heart flutters as I stare at my phone screen. After a minute, I look up at my computer and groan. I’m going to have to rename absolutely everything so it doesn’t look like I’m obsessed with this man. Including hiding my game husband, Hugo, who’s standing outside of my village house, waiting for me with a big smile.

I sigh.