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Sam was always competitive, and on the ice he was no different. How he managed to remain a contained and precise person while sliding around with knives on his feet and men coming at him was baffling. Sure, he had his quirks, but so did every player. The silent concentration as he calculated his next move differed greatly from the other players chirping and shouting around him.
He might not have been the best player ever, as evidenced by the fact he was playing defender with his lanky build, but the way he switched his weight to skate backwards to intercept passes was impressive.
“Get him Sam!” Brian's voice carried through the rink. Adam sat beside him, far more bundled up than the other spectators. Ben sat next to him, not even wearing a sweatshirt. All three of them cheered as Sam poked the puck out from the player he was opposing, Adam's claps muffled by his gloves.
“You do know that you aren't on the ice, right,” Brian teased, “you don't need to wear so many layers that you end up looking like the Michelin Man.”
“Look, I just get cold easily. And nobody told me there was a dress code!” Adam defended himself, rubbing his hands together to add more warmth. “Make fun of Ben, he's not even wearing a sweatshirt!”
“I'm just built different.” Their conversation was interrupted by shouts as the goalie caught the puck that was flying toward the net. He dropped it down safely in the back of their zone, and Sam skated over to pick it up.
The puck slid smoothly between the wings and the center as Sam's team worked it down the ice. Center, wing, wing, center, wing. Just as the other team's defenders closed in on the puck it would be shot across the rink. Closing in on the goal, the puck was interrupted by a defender’s stick check. It rolled across the ice, coming directly to Sam's stick. He passed it quickly back to the center who shot on goal and scored. The rink erupted in as much cheer as possible for an adult league game on a Saturday afternoon.
“Atta boy, Sam!” Brian shouted to the ice, and Sam acknowledged with a hand and he skated over to the bench.
“Wait why is he leaving? Didn't he just like do good or something?” Ben directed his question at Brian, but Adam jumped in before he could answer.
“There's a lot of substitution in hockey, far more than other sports. Mostly players are only on the ice for a couple minutes at a time. This is because it's so intense, so players are giving 110% on the ice knowing that they'll get to rest in a little bit.”
“Ooh someone did his research!” Brian reached over to pat Adam on the shoulder. “Yeah, what he said pretty much. It's not a punishment to get pulled off the ice.”
The horn sounded, signaling the end of the period. Ben stood up, stretching his back. “I'm gonna go see what stuff they have at the concession stand. You want anything?”
“Nah.”
“Nope, thanks buddy.”
Ben left the two of them, but returned shortly carrying a hot chocolate and a package of M&Ms. The horn sounded once more, and the players skated out onto the ice for the face off. The second period passed with little drama, Ben leaving once in the middle to get another hot chocolate.
With only a few seconds left in the period, Sam skated back in his zone while controlling the puck. He prepared to pass it over to the other defender, but his motion was stopped when one of the other team's wings slammed him into the boards. Sam turned to defend the puck, but the wing had swung his stick back and it caught him in the side of the head. Sam recoiled, rattled from the hit.
Shouts filled the stadium, none louder than Brian. The referee’s whistle blew with less than a second left on the clock.
“Penalty on number 38, away team, 2 minutes for high sticking.”
“Yeah, get off!” Brian's shouts continued as the player was guided to the penalty box. “Ya can't do that shit here!”
The puck was dropped for the ensuing face off and then the ending horn immediately blew. The players left the ice for the final intermission, preparing to start the next period on a power play.
Ben left as Brian and Adam started to talk about the intricacies of power play strategy. He came back with another hot chocolate and popcorn, and sat beside Adam.
“Are you enjoying the game?” A man from a few rows behind them scooted down, sitting between Ben and the aisle. Ben nodded, swallowed his popcorn, and smiled.
“Yeah, I'm having a good time. First game I've been to, but it's pretty much what I was expecting. Nobody's fought yet though, I thought that was a thing.”
“They're not professionals, fighting is more heavily punished here. Although I did think someone was going to throw gloves when 38 hit our pretty boy there.”
“Pretty boy? Is that his nickname or something?” Ben asked, barely hiding his laughter.
“Well, maybe not officially his nickname, but you can't deny it. He's the best looking guy on the team.”
Ben chuckled, unaware that Brian and Adam had stopped their conversation and were now staring at the man sitting beside Ben.
“Wouldn't mind being his puck bunny.”
Brian snorted, covering his mouth with his hand. “Really?”
The man considered Brian, a strange look on his face. “What, you got a problem?”
“No problems here, just making sure I heard right.” Brian turned his attention to the ice, where the players were coming out for the final face off. The horn sounded, the puck dropped, and play began in the final period. The opposing team played hard defense, preventing Sam's team from scoring.
With 20 seconds left in the power play, the puck was passed to Sam. He skated up to the goal, and with a skilled wrist flick he backhanded the puck into the net. The four men shot to their feet and screamed louder than everyone else, celebrating Sam's goal.
“Let's go Sammy!” Brian screamed, clapping his hands.
Sam skated over to the bench, where all of his teammates patted him on the back in celebration. He looked over at his friends and waved, slightly surprised to see another person sitting next to them.
The referee dropped the puck for the face off, each team now back with all their players on the ice. Ben excused himself to go back to the concession stand, leaving Adam sitting next to the stranger. They said nothing to each other as they watched the game in relative silence. Ben returned with a hot chocolate in hand. He scooted back into his spot next to Adam, who put his arm around him.
“Hi. You good?” Ben asked, slightly confused at his friend's abnormal behavior. Adam nodded and squeezed Ben's shoulders closer to him.
“I'm Tyler,” the stranger said, sticking his hand out. “What's your name?”
“Ben,” he replied, shaking his hand. “This is Adam, and that's Brian.”
“Nice to meet you all, what brings you here today?”
“Well our…” Ben trailed off, searching for the correct word to define Sam's relationship to them to this stranger. “Friend. Our friend is on the team, and Adam and I hadn't seen him play before. And we happened to be in town.”
“Oh. Nice. My roommates both play too. Which one's your-”
Tyler's sentence was cut off by another goal from the home team. Shouts filled the rink as Sam's team celebrated, all congratulating the scoring player.
“Hey Ben,” Adam leaned over, “Do you think you could get me a hot chocolate?”
“Yeah!” Ben stood up and once again scooted past Tyler to the concession stand. With less than 5 minutes left in the game, the line was short and Ben quickly returned. “They were out of hot chocolate, but they did have hot cider so I got that.”
“Thanks.” Adam took the steaming cup from Ben's hands and took a drink. “That's actually not bad.”
The horn sounded once more to signal the end of the game, and Tyler stood up. “I've gotta go find my friends, see you around?” Ben shrugged, smiling. Tyler walked away, and as soon as he was out of earshot Brian burst out laughing.
“Seriously? That guy has a crush on Sam? Wild.”
“Not just a crush,” Adam noted, tone untraceable. “He wants to be his puck bunny.”
“Okay what's a puck bunny?” Ben asked, gathering his stuff and standing up.
“Essentially just a person who fucks hockey players.” Brian stood up as well, letting Ben lead them out of the bleachers before taking over and guiding them to an area of the rink near the locker room. “Come on, Sam’ll be out in a few.”
The three of them stood there for a moment, Adam shivering in his coat. “I wish they had hot chocolate instead of cider,” he said with a pointed look at Ben.
“Don't glare at me, it's not my fault.”
“You bought like 4 hot chocolates!” Adam said incredulously. “Actually,” Ben said, stepping over to Sam, who had just joined them, “Sam bought 4 hot chocolates. I just happened to drink them.” Sam turned to him, rolling his eyes. “I can't say I'm not surprised. But next time maybe you could share with your boy here.”
“He's not my- I'm not-” Adam stuttered as Sam rolled his eyes and turned to Brian, who patted him on the back.
“Great game man,” Brian said, “You really stood your ground out there. Lots of good plays.”
Sam shrugged. “Team game. Everyone had a hand in it. I'm not special, just a pla-”
“Shut up,” Ben cut him off, “I don't know hockey and I could tell you did great.”
“There were a couple things I could have done better, like-”
Adam jumped in, “You got an assist and a goal, that's big!”
“Well the goal was on a power play so it doesn't really-” Sam was cut off again, this time by Brian.
“And nobody else on the team looks as good in that teal jersey as you do. Really brings out your eyes. And I’m not the only one who thinks-”
“Okay, okay, I get it.” Sam interrupted Brian, afraid of the continuation of that statement. “If I just say I helped will you stop complimenting me, I hate this.” The embarrassment showed on his face, now closer in color to a fire truck than a human.
“Hmmm,” Brian feigned consideration, “No, I think you'll just have to take it.”
“Well, I don't know if that's the best wording…” Adam said.
“Okay, I'm done here.” Sam turned to head into the locker room to take off his gear.
“Meet back at our place?” Ben asked, causing Sam to look back at him.
“Sure,” he responded, then went to join his team in the locker room.