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    Summary

    Before he walked to the showers, he looked up at the muted TV that hung in the locker room where Shane would appear any minute, giving boring, polite answers to rabid reporters.

    Right now, clips from the game were playing, highlights of their victory. The TV was on a shot of Shane’s first goal sailing clean into the net, Ilya crashing into his arms afterwards to kiss the side of his helmet. Then it cut to a shot of Rose, Yuna, and David in the crowd. Rose was jumping up and down, spinning to look at the people behind her in the box as she cheered, the Hollander name clear on her back.

    Ilya looked back down. His eyes fell to the jersey Shane had folded moments before, still waiting in a little square on his bench. Pointlessly neat, considering it would be gathered and tossed in with the rest of the other team’s laundry after the game.

    Ilya found himself stuffing it into his bag without a second thought.

    Or,

    Feelings of jealousy inspire Ilya to wear Shane’s jersey for him for the first time.

    Language:
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