Page 75 of Poetry On Ice
Our tastes might be different, but damn, I relate.
I know all too well what being susceptible to McGuire beauty can do to a man.
“Have you lost your mind?” I’ve just arrived at Robbie’s house. I’m here uninvited. I came directly from practice. I’ve parked on the street, and for once, I’m not at all concerned about it. I barge inside before he’s fully opened the door. “You told Bodie I’m going to your mom and dad’s place for Christmas? What the fuck, McGuire? Why did you do that?”
His brow creases in confusion. “’Cause you are coming. We’ve talked about it.”
Okay, okay. Slow down. Don’t panic. Don’t look directly at him.
Just explain the situation to him calmly.
“Robbie,” I say, deepening my voice to hide the terror, “I can’t spend Christmas with your family.”
He looks down at the small bunch of green grapes he’s holding in one hand and leans against the arched doorway that leads to the living room, calmly plucking a grape off the stem and popping it into his mouth, masticating thoughtfully. “How come?”
“Oh, you know, ’bout a hundred reasons.”
“Name one.”
I’m not a relationship guy. This thing between is supposed to be casual. I’m not good with parents or people in general. We’re both neck-deep in the closet, I think, to name a few.
“Because your parents won’t like me,” I hear myself say. I’m as surprised as he is by the admission. “I’ve been a dick to you for years, Robbie. I can’t just turn up on their doorstep and act like none of that happened.”
“Oh.” He waves me off with his free hand. “Don’t worry about all that. I’ve already explained it to them.”
“W-what did you tell him?”
He pops another grape into his mouth, catching it between his molars and holding it there for a second before chomping it in half. “Told them you were jealous of my talent. Said you were threatened by it but that it’s cool ’cause you’ve apologized, and we’ve moved on.”
Oh my fuck.
“You did what?”
“You’re welcome—just be sure to stick with the story when you meet them.”
Aghast isn’t something I feel very often, but I’m definitely feeling it now. “I am not saying I was jealous of you.”
He looks at me thoughtfully. “I think you should. It might do you some good to admit it.”
I close my eyes and speak slowly and clearly. “I’d rather die than say I was jealous of you, okay? I’d rather pick out a suit and casket and die.”
“Hm,” he says, pressing his lips together. “Well then, let’s just hope what happened at the end of our last game was enough to make them forgive you.” I freeze, hoping against hope that I misheard him. I didn’t. Of course I didn’t. Of course he’s watched the rest of the game. He’s McGuire. When has he ever let me get away with anything? A prickly heat rises up my neck, crushing my windpipe and making it hard to breathe. “They saw what you did after I got hurt, Ant, so you scored some major points there.”
I’ve watched the game too. I’ve watched it over and over, trying to convince myself it wasn’t that bad. But it was. There were cameras all over. Behind me. In front of me. There was a clear shot of my face right before I did it. I’ve never seen myself look like that. I had my eye on theplayer that swung at Robbie. Green number three. My eyes were black with rage, simultaneously focused and unseeing.
I looked dangerous.
I saw red.
I’ve watched every playback I could find of what happened. They’re all equally as bad. As soon as number three got the puck after Robbie was taken off the ice, attack codes were launched and deployed. I was a missile. A rocket of unbridled fury aimed straight at the man who hurt Robbie.
I imploded on contact. I’ve never hit a guy that hard before. He hit the board. His arms flew out to his sides and his stick clattered onto the ice on impact. It hardly sated my rage.
The fight that erupted was cataclysmic. I dropped my gloves and went somewhere I hadn’t been before. Somewhere out of control. A place where all I could see was Robbie McGuire lying unconscious on a white slab. A place where, for the first time in my life, I didn’t pull my punches. Not even a little bit.
I was outside of myself, but the guys had my back. All of them did. The entire team piled on without question and started swinging as if it were their fight.
It was carnage.