If you said it today, I’d still call you an idiot because Randall Haughland does not wait for girls to call.
But Elise isn’t some girl. She’s a friend. A great friend.
At some point, texting her became something I looked forward to. If I saw something funny or ridiculous, I’d send her a picture. When an event was worth remembering, it seemed natural to share it with Elise. When I gave up my phone, I didn’t miss social media, I missed her texting about the show. She sent me a few messages while I was offline, but I wish there were more.
I’m fucking invested in this play she’s putting together.Blood Will Have Bloodis such a badass title, who wouldn’t want to see it? When she sends me rehearsal updates or pictures of the set, it’s like revealing the seams of what will later be a glamorous outfit.
And knowing that she reveals her nervousness to me because she can’t tell her cast and crew? That’s a prize all its own. She trusts me with her insecurities, which only makes her more awesome in my eyes. Elise is smart and classy and interesting.
Never thought an average jock like me would be friends with a theater director who, by the way, is also a talented author working her ass off. Watching Elise dedicate her time and energy in a context outside my profession has been enlightening. It’s like sheenjoysputting herself through the ringer. As if working hard makes her happy.
I’ve spent most of my life around hockey. I’m used to seeing people work their asses off. Dedication to excellence is expected.
But that’s never been me. I’m not like my teammates who sacrifice body and mind for the sport. I’m a twenty-six-year-old dude with the rest of my life to be serious. Working to the bone is not something I aspire to do unless absolutely necessary.
Not saying I’m a complete slacker. I do what I gotta do to keep this job that I happen to be naturally good at. After all, my dad always said it was mostly luck that the puck slows down for me. I figured I’d ride my luck for as long as I can.
So why the fuck am I doing an extra sprint on the bike right now, when my thighs are already on fire? Not because I have to distract myself while waiting around for a girl to tell me her plans this weekend. That would be idiotic.
“I’ve been meaning to have a word with you,” Dexter Whitby, the Mavericks captain, says while taking the bike beside me. “Didn’t think it would be in the gym. This is the first time I’ve seen you stay longer than the other guys.”
“Where the fuck else did you think I’d be?” I bark grumpily.
We all have to put in gym time since there’s no game today. After sweeping Pittsburg, we’re now waiting for the other teams to wrap up their seven-game series.
“A party. A bar. Under a puck bunny—”
“I get it. What do you want, Dex?”
“Jeremy’s injury changed a lot for the team, but the biggest change is how you’ve stepped up. The third-game shutout carried the momentum for us to finish the series.”
He pats me on the back and then winces when his palm touches my swamp of sweat.
“Pittsburg had their own injuries coming into the playoffs.” I shrug. “We weren’t going against their best players.”
“Jesus, Randi. How did I know you were going to say some bullshit like that?”
“Like what?”
“Every time someone talks about how great you are, you brush it off or ignore it or say it isn’t a big deal. I’ve even seen you roll your eyes when Coach Zach gives you props in front of the team.”
“I do not.”
“You’re doing it now.”
I stop biking and jump off. Praises about my performance on the ice, especially from people who are goddamn superstars on the ice, make me uncomfortable.
Dexter is a great captain and sure to be in the Hockey Hall of Fame one day. When he singles me out like this, I feel as if I’m the butt of a joke, but I don’t understand the punchline.
“Thanks for the chat, Dex.”
“Hey, what’s got you pissed? I’m just taking a minute to say you’re coming through like we all knew you would.”
Jesus, could it get hotter in here? “Yeah, great. Thanks.”
“Hey, Randi! Are we waiting for you?” Sean asks from the hallway that connects the gym to the showers. I didn’t commit to going out with them after our workout. We can get dinner together anytime, but Elise doesn’t come home from Cleveland every day.
I look at my phone and bite the bullet. Of course I want to see her, but if she’s too busy I don’t want to mope around at home alone, either.
