“I love hockey.”
“Why?”
“Why?”
“Yes, dufus, why do you love hockey?”
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe that’s your problem then. You don’t like it anymore.”
“I love it,” I deny.
“Then why can’t you tell me why you love it?”
I want to say it’s not true, because deep down it’s not, but in this one second, I don’t know why I love it. I’m saved from answering when the server brings our drinks.
“Can I get you anything else?”
“No.”
The word is curt and I flash her a smile to take the sting out of it. As much as I don’t want to play the athlete to an adoring fan, I can’t afford to come off like an asshole either. One bad press statement or article could kill my forward momentum, especially with the Raptors.
Daisy arches a brow and sticks her straw into her glass of water.
“I really do love it.”
“I believe you, but I think right now, you’re not soin lovewith it.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Let me rephrase, I think it’s the stress that comes with it that you’re not liking. Every time I see you, especially when people approach you, you tense up. I can see it in your face, your eyes, your shoulders. Maybe you need a break from playing the athlete for a while?”
“You never get a break.”
“Then how do you keep your love of the sport if you always have to be “on”?”
“Fuck if I know.”.,
And there is the real crux of my problem. She’d hit the nail on the head—stress. I hate being in the spotlight anymore. Add in the pressure of the scouts from my favorite team and this big ball of dread just sits in the pit of my stomach. It sucks balls.
“So is there anything in particular you’re stressed about right now?”
“Do you really want to hear this?”
“Sure. It’ll get me out of my own head for a while.”
The exact thing I wanted when I asked about her job hunting and she’s somehow turned the tables. Only my mother has ever been able to do that to me.
“I’m behind four seconds on my time.”
“Just four seconds?”
I laugh at the incredulous look on her face. “Four seconds can be the difference between making the slap shot or not.”
“That whatsit?”
“Slap shot. It’s when you raise your stick and then hit the puck so hard, it’s like a slap. You can hear it.”
