Hockey Is My Boyfriend: Part Two Read online

  “Is she playing too?” I heard through the half-open door of a dressing room.

  “Yeah, she’s on my team,” Jimmy’s low voice replied.

  There were some whining murmurs, but I couldn’t tell what was being said. Jimmy seemed to command a lot of respect in the room for some reason, and what he said went.

  I went to the washroom and got my gear on. I missed the women’s dressing rooms of university. This was like being back in minor hockey. I sat on the bench outside the rooms and tied up my skates. Jimmy walked by in full gear. His gear looked expensive, like his sticks.

  “If you’ve got a black jersey, put it on,” he commanded as he walked by. He seemed different now, stern and completely focused. He was getting into a competitive pregame headspace.

  I rooted around for my black practice jersey and pulled it out of my bag. As I pulled off the red one, a couple of the guys whistled at me. I rolled my eyes. For crying out loud, I was wearing full length Underarmour, shoulder protectors, and elbow pads. I had been wearing less when I arrived at the camp. Move along, boys, nothing to see here. I wished Deirdre were here too. She had a smartass comeback for any situation. All the guys at camp seemed to have known each other for years, and I was the only new person as well as the only girl.

  I shook off the sadness once I got on the ice. It was nice to skate and get ready to play. I circled the rink and stretched my arms. The familiar rhythm comforted me. We were only seven a side, so I knew I would get some decent ice time, no matter what the other guys thought. We were going to play four-on-four. The teams had been decided back in the dressing room; Steve was one captain, and Jimmy was the other. In my opinion, Jimmy seemed to be saddled with the worst players, including me. Not that anyone was actually bad, but some were really good. And Jimmy was the best of all.

  Watching him play was a revelation. His skating was smooth and powerful, and his stick handling was amazing. He had super-soft hands and a beauty of a wrister. His forecheck was so efficient; he sailed in and wrested the puck out, time after time. If I were playing with him, I kept moving, tried to stay open, and the puck arrived magically on my stick. The goalie had a tendency to go down fast, especially on me, so I kept roofing it blocker side. After four goals, I passed it around to share the wealth. I think Jimmy wanted to prove I could play, and he had, but I was no puck hog. Remembering what he had said about floaters, I went digging for the puck as well, trapping it on the boards and pushing a surprised Steve around once.

  And I played both ends, even blocking one shot that had me hobbling back to the bench nursing my left side.

  “You okay?” Jimmy had skated up to the bench.

  “Yeah.” Probably would have been more believable if I hadn’t squeaked out the reply.

  He skated off to defend. As he went end to end, I realized I was finding him increasingly attractive. Leave it to me to get turned on by hockey skills. I mean, he had said on the bus that he was a good player, but guys always tell you stuff like that. Plus Jimmy was totally focused. Even though it was just pickup, he was very competitive and took charge of the team. He constantly talked on the ice, telling people where to be and who to cover. It might have been irritating if he weren’t right all the time. It was kind of like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, he was this goofball off the ice, but totally in charge on the ice.

  I realized Jimmy was the best hockey player I had ever seen in real life.

  “Man, Jimmy’s really good,” I said to the guy beside me on the bench. I think his name was Dustin.

  “Do y’think?” he said, giving me an incredulous look.

  A light bulb was coming on in my head. I felt embarrassed it had taken so long. Jimmy, from Fredericton, plays for Maine, was just in Vancouver, and he’s really good. Unbelievably good. Click. He was James freaking Frechette, and he had just been taken third overall in the NHL Draft by the Blackhawks.

  6

  Interested?

  In my defence, who would have expected to find a top draft pick at a camp in the middle of nowhere? But he said he went to this camp as a kid, so now he was paying Burt back. What a nice guy. Yet I still felt like an idiot. I was hiking the West Coast Trail so I missed all the draft hoopla. And even if I had watched the draft, I might not have recognized him, but if I heard his full name I would have known who he was. I usually checked out the Canucks’ draft picks and the top ten.

  I took an extra long time to get changed after the game. I was thinking a lot, plus I didn’t want to see Jimmy or talk to him. I worried that I would start treating him differently. For hockey people, the NHL is the Holy Grail, and I’d seen normal people kowtowing in a most disturbing way when in the presence of an NHL'er or future NHL'er.

  I opened the washroom door and looked around. Nobody—whew. I grabbed my bag and sticks and walked out the arena door.

  “Took you long enough.”

  Damn. I turned around and saw Jimmy sitting on a bench by the entrance.

  “Oh, hey.”

  “You’re not too bad a player—for a girl.”

  “And you’re good, really good. But I’m sure you’re aware of that.” I dropped my bag by the bench and looked down at him. He was still covered in after-game sweat, his hair plastered down, a helmet crease on his forehead. 90% of women would not find this attractive, but unfortunately I was in the other 10%.

  “Nice to hear you admit it anyway.”

  “I never said you were a bad player.”

  “No, I believe the words were more along the lines of ‘don’t let your mouth write cheques your body can’t cash.’”

  I exhaled. Jimmy was already looking better to me. Was it because he was such a good player or because he was a top pick? I hoped it was the former.

  “I know who you are,” I blurted. Smooth, and only the last thing I wanted to say. God, Kelly.

  He looked puzzled. “What?”

  “I finally figured out who you are. James Frechette. First round draft pick and everything.”

  “Um, well who did you think I was before?”

  “Just another conceited hockey player.”

  He laughed pretty hard at this. “You really had no idea?”

  “Yeah, put me on the short bus. I’ve been a little slow.”

  “I assumed, well when we talking on the bus, you never asked any questions about me so I thought you already knew.”

  I shook my head. It must be a weird life to have strangers know all about you. “Really? So if girls don’t ask questions about you, they’re interested. And if they ask questions, they’re interested. Nice.”

  A shadow fell across his face. “So, now you know, you’re more interested?”

  “God, Jimmy, how many times do we have to go through this? I’m not coming on to you!” Well, I hadn’t been before, and now I was determined not to be into him. I couldn’t start crushing on someone because he was a great hockey player.

  Jimmy still looked unhappy. “Well, that’s a good thing, Kelly. Because I have priorities, and I can’t be dating right now.”

  I actually snorted out loud. Was Jimmy really this conceited? The only thing that prevented me from leaving was that he seemed so sad about the whole deal. Like he had to say this stuff, but he didn’t want to. “Frechette, look at me.” I pointed to my face.

  He turned and focused on me. “Okay.”

  “Now read my lips: I-am-not-interested-in-you. Comprendre?”

  He kept staring at my mouth, but his forehead wrinkled. “It’s actually comprenez, you have to conjugate the verb into the vous form. Or tu, since we are familiar with each other.”

  “Jimmy! I don’t give a flying fuck about verb conjugation. I only want you to understand I am not interested in you in a, um, sexual way.” Why could I not even say the word “sexual” without blushing?

  “Okay, I get it. You know, your language isn’t suitable for a girl.”

  He should not have been saying these things to me when I had two hockey sticks in my hand. “I picked up all my vocabulary at
the rink,” I explained sweetly. “Can I ask you one thing? Why do you think I even like you? It’s pretty clear we are from completely different planets.” Mine was earth, and I hadn’t figured out his yet.

  His round eyes opened up even wider. “It’s because you were so nice to me on the bus. People always want something.” He shrugged, like that was a fact of life.

  Against my will, I felt sorry for him. Imagine carrying suspicion around all the time. Another insight into the life of an NHL prospect, and it wasn’t very nice.

  “Wow, that’s a pretty shitty way to live,” I said. Although when he lifted his eyebrows at the word “shitty” I was ready to club him again. Being with Jimmy was a rollercoaster of emotions. However, I never knew what he was going to say next, which made him more interesting than normal people.

  Jimmy nodded. “Can you watch my stuff while I lock up? Then I’ll walk you home.”

  It didn’t seem to me that Jimmy’s gear was in any danger at a rink in the woods unless owls used expensive composite sticks for their nests. And I wasn’t going to get mugged on a fifteen-minute walk home. But I waited politely. It had been a long day, so I ended up stretching out on the bench to relax.

  What would the Tanaka Scale tell me about a guy like him? Jimmy’s game was almost perfect, and he had unreal skills in every zone. The only knock on him might be his skating. He was strong on his skates, but he wasn’t the fastest guy end-to-end. He made up for it with hockey smarts though; he knew where he needed to be and took the shortest route. In personality terms, he was confident and take-charge, and his compete level was off the charts. However, pick-up hockey wasn’t a real game. I’d have to see Jimmy in a real game to figure out his personality. And there wasn’t going to be a real game at camp.

  * * *

  Jimmy

  I hurried to turn out the lights and get the arena locked up. I knew she wasn’t going to take off and leave all my gear, but most girls don’t like to wait. But when I got out there, Kelly was lying on the bench, looking up. She was so relaxed.

  “Jimmy, look at all the stars here. It’s incredible when you leave the city how many stars you can see.”

  I bent my head back. Kelly looked up at me and smiled. “It’s way better if you lie down and look.”

  My neck was already sore from the scrimmage, so I went to the other bench and lay down. It was pretty neat. There were stars in every part of the sky. When I was a kid, I used to look for the first star and always made the same wish: that I’d be an NHL player.

  “My mom knows all the constellations,” said Kelly. “But I have no clue. I was always too busy running around to stop and star-gaze.”

  “Me too,” I said. “I always had non-stop energy. It’s only lately I’ve learned about balance and rest days from my trainers and coaches.” This summer I had a pretty complicated training program, but I was determined to follow it to the letter.

  “That’s so weird, I’m exactly the same. I used to run every day—daily workouts were like this ritual for me. But now I understand my body needs recovery time. More is not always better.”

  When she mentioned her body, I turned and looked. Her tits were pointing up, her stomach was flat, and I could see the definition on her bare legs. She looked kind of hot lying there. Kelly was still talking about training, “As I get older I can see things are going to start breaking down.” She stopped and looked over at me. “But you don’t have to worry about that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you must be eighteen, right? You just got drafted.”

  Darn, I was hoping she wasn’t going to notice the whole age difference thing. I didn’t want Kelly to treat me like I was way younger than her. “I’ve done a lot of stuff, you know. Like playing on the World Junior Team last year.”

  Kelly laughed. “I’d be surprised if you hadn’t, since you’re such a good player. That must have been cool.”

  I felt like an idiot for bragging and decided to shut up. She knew who I was, and she knew about hockey. Instead, I found myself telling her about all the stuff that was worrying me. About trying to make Chicago happy, but feeling I owed my coach and teammates at UMaine too.

  “My playing’s really been coming on, and I’ve improved so much this year. I don’t want to be one of those burnouts who starts in the league before he’s ready. Or end up getting cranked in the AHL. Plus I had a great year in Maine. I like the team, the guys, everything. I like being at college.”

  “Lots of pressure on you,” she agreed.

  It felt easier to talk in the dark. “But then there’s the money. I feel like I owe my parents for everything they’ve given up for hockey. It’s a lot of money if I sign now, but I figure I can make it up if I’m really ready later. Right now, everyone thinks I’m rich, but if anything I’ve got less money. Like my Chicago trip, I had to pay for everything to keep my amateur status.” I sighed. “I’m torn.”

  “That’s so tough for you. It’s a transition, right? You listen to your coaches and parents for so long, and it pays off. But when opinions start to conflict, I guess you have to start making your own decisions, and it’s kind of scary. You’re the only one who knows what’s right for you.”

  I nodded. That was exactly right, and it was weird how she put her finger on it. I got ahead by doing what I was supposed to, but suddenly everyone wanted something different and I was caught in the middle. But what really struck me was how she didn’t give me her opinion. Everyone, from good friends to total strangers, was always telling me what I should do.

  I couldn’t figure out why it was so easy to talk to Kelly since I had just met her. Maybe it was because we seemed to be a lot alike. I felt comfortable with her; she was a genuine person, and it was like talking to a guy—one of your friends who really listened.

  Kelly yawned. “It’s been a long day. I guess we better head back. Big day tomorrow.” She sat up and stretched. I stared at her tits sticking out as her arms went back. Luckily, I looked up at her face before she caught me staring. She smiled at me. Her teeth gleamed in the darkness, and I smiled back. We started walking back along the trail to the camp.

  “Maybe we can do this again sometime,” I mumbled. I really liked talking to her. It was weird; I wanted to do the right thing, so I had told her upfront I couldn’t go out with anyone right now. But as soon as I said the words, I felt lousy. Was it because she insisted she wasn’t interested in me either? It couldn’t be that I wanted to go out with her. Kelly was pretty, but she wasn’t very feminine. She had a potty mouth too; my mom would not like that. Yet when she walked ahead of me on the trail, I noticed she was female in all the right ways. Something stirred inside as I looked at her bare legs.

  Kelly nodded in response to my question, but then I wasn’t sure if she realized I meant us being alone and not pickup hockey or whatever.

  “I work out early in the morning, before the camp starts,” I blurted.

  She looked up at me. “Really?”

  “Yeah, I have keys to the gym here too.” I motioned towards the other side of the arena and jangled the keys in my hand. Ivy understood I had a routine to maintain. “So, if you wanted to work out in the morning anytime?”

  “That’s a good idea. I guess I assumed being on the ice for hours each day would be good training.”

  I shook my head. “The dryland stuff is good, but at the rink you’re mainly standing around. Coaching doesn’t keep you fit.”

  “What time?”

  “I get there at six,” I said, and she groaned. “It gives you time to work out, shower and make it to breakfast.” Then I started imagining what Kelly would look like in the shower. She was pretty tanned, but she wouldn’t be tanned everywhere.

  I tried to shake that image by talking. “This year, I’m only here for two weeks. I’ve got meetings with my agent in L.A. after that.” I walked her right to her cabin; she was sleeping all alone in one of the kids’ cabins.

  “Thanks for including me in the hockey,” Kelly sai
d, her hand on the door latch.

  “Well sure. I’m mean, you’re part of the camp too. Just because you’re a girl, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t play.”

  “I know that. I like it when guys treat me like anyone else, but they don’t always. ’Night.”

  It was weird, but there was this split second where I thought I could lean forward and kiss her. The way she looked at me with her lips parted slightly—maybe she did like me. But then she was gone.

  I walked back to my room. Steve-O and Riley were drinking beer and playing caps. Ivy didn’t allow liquor at the camp, but that was typical Steve-O. X-man was lying on his bed and playing with a Gameboy Advance.

  “Where you been all this time, Freshy?”

  I shrugged. “I was hanging out with Kelly.”

  “Look at you.” Steve didn’t believe me. “Jesus Christ, you’re all growed up now. All the chicks want to hop on the NHL gravy train, eh?”

  Riley asked me, “How far did ya get with her? I’d like to get my hands on that ass. Imagine spreading those tight cheeks and giving it to her doggy-style. Sooweet.”

  Both these jerks made me sick. “It’s not like that. She’s a nice girl,” I said.

  Steve laughed. “C’mon, everyone knows nice girls are the dirtiest in bed. They can’t wait to get down and go crazy.” He swirled his key ring on his finger. “Okay, boys, if the key is in the door, that means don’t come in because I’m doing the deed.”

  “With Kelly?” Riley asked.

  “Well, I won’t be nailing Trudy, arsehole. Kelly is a dimepiece, and I’m looking forward to giving it to her, front door and back.”

  I was more and more nauseous. Because she was the only girl here, every horny guy in the place was going to be fantasizing about her.