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It was a warm Saturday in early July, and the team had gathered on the Boodrams’ patio. The air was warm, and the evening sun glazed the space in a soft orange light.
“So, sailing?” Wyatt offered, placing the can of beer he’d been nursing down on the table in front of him. Lisa was sitting to his right, a rare occasion where she’d gotten a day off from the hospital.
Shane, who was sitting opposite him with his feet comfortably planted in Ilya’s lap, looked up, confusion written all over his face.
“What now?”
“For a team trip,” Wyatt clarified.
Lisa nearly spat out her drink at the mention. She looked up at her husband, the words team trip bringing nothing but bad memories to mind.
“Maybe you guys should just stick to these barbecues…” she suggested.
She was still staring at Wyatt, her eyes filled with scepticism and memories of the long trip to a ski resort where she’d had to rescue her poor husband from himself and Ilya’s complete lack of coordination.
“Agreed,” Shane chimed in far too quickly. He placed his can of ginger ale on the table and was about to say something, but Ilya abruptly cut him off.
“We could buy a team boat!” he exclaimed loudly, a wide grin spreading across his face.
Shane loved seeing his husband light up like this, but a team boat? That sounded like a financially dumb decision. Not that they couldn’t afford it, but still. What a waste.
“Absolutely not!” Shane finally replied. He sat up fully, preparing to conduct the verdict on why it was such a terrible idea.
“I mean, maybe we could rent one for a day, but we’re barely home half of the year. It would just sit in some harbour collecting algae.”
“What are you guys talking about?” Harris emerged from the garden with a cider in hand, Troy not far behind. They’d both been outside chatting with Luca while the rookies had been tiring Chiron and Anya out with a game of fetch.
“A boat. Roz wants to buy one, but I think, for Hollzys’ blood pressure’s sake, we might just rent one for a day and take the team out,” Wyatt filled him in, patting the empty space on his left for Harris and Troy to settle down. “If everyone’s on board with another try at team building.”
“That sounds so exciting! Thinking like a fishing trip or what?” Harris came over, taking the offered seat next to Wyatt, and glanced between the hockey players and their wags.
“More like drinking a few beers and enjoying the fresh breeze. You could tag along and do a little ‘What the Centaurs Do in the Off-Season’ content.”
Bood took a sip of his beer. He’d been quiet up until now, simply watching his team make the plans.
“I’ve never gone sailing before! It sounds like so much fun! I’m definitely onboard,” Harris said with a bright smile.
He turned to face his boyfriend, who had stopped dead in his tracks on the way to the couches.
“Troy?”
Troy was staring down at his feet while an internal battle raged in his head.
“I don’t know, guys… how about Vegas?” he offered, looking toward Ilya, hoping he’d get carried away with the idea of Vegas and forget all about that stupid boat trip.
“Why are you suddenly so open to the Vegas trip?” Ilya straightened his back and smiled mischievously at Troy.
“You are hiding something, Barret.”
“I’m just not that good with sailing, okay?!” Troy announced it loudly, his voice bordering on high-pitched. He cleared his throat and collected himself before plopping down next to Harris with a heavy thump.
Being on a boat again scared him. Just thinking about it brought him back to a fishing trip with his dad as a kid. He’d spent the majority of it leaned over the side of the boat throwing up, while his dad told him to man the fuck up.
“Well, you aren’t gonna be the one sailing it, Barret,” Ilya commented, his eyes still roaming over Troy as if that alone would reveal his true reasoning.
“I know that, Roz. That’s not what I meant—” Troy tried, but he was quickly cut off by their captain.
“You scared of water?” Ilya said it quickly, a gleam appearing in his eye.
“I’m not scared of water!” Troy protested. He crossed his arms and leaned back into the seat.
“Then it’s settled!” Ilya finalised, a huge grin spreading across his face. He looked around the patio, most of the players sharing an equally big smile.
Aside from, of course, Troy and Shane.
“We’re getting a boat!”
“Retning a boat!” Shane quickly corrected.
Troy simply sighed. Motion-sickness pills were a thing, after all. He just hoped they’d be enough.
——
“Get me off this fucking boat…”
Troy swallowed hard as he stood leaning over the railing of the massive boat the team had rented. The waves below jostled against the boat’s side, reminding Troy far too much of the way his stomach currently felt.
He’d lasted maybe two hours before the wind picked up and the boat started rocking.
An uneasy sensation had formed in Troy’s gut, and he immediately regretted the few beers he’d had with the group earlier as they churned inside his stomach.
He’d been sitting on the deck with Harris and Shane while they chatted about Harris and him visiting Shane’s cottage at some point during the summer.
Troy had really tried.
But the building nausea had eventually become impossibly unbearable until the telltale burn in his throat crept up on him, forcing him to swallow back the saliva pooling in his mouth.
“Troy? Are you okay?” Shane asked, his brows furrowed in worry.
Troy tried to offer a smile and a nod as he swallowed back a mouthful of sick.
“You sure? You look a bit green there, bud,” Harris said, his expression matching Shane’s worried look.
Troy was about to assure them that he was absolutely right as rain when his stomach lurched.
He shot to his feet and sprinted to the edge of the deck, promptly throwing up the beers and the light lunch he’d had earlier.
Harris rushed over, his hands finding the small of Troy’s back as he rubbed soothing circles and shushed him with sweet nothings.
“It’s okay, babe. Get it all out.”
Troy wanted to smile or express his gratitude somehow, but his stomach still felt like a rolling ocean as he stood there spitting into the sea below.
“You did not say you got seasick, Barret.” Ilya must have heard the commotion from across the deck and sprinted over to check on him.
“What the fuck did you think I meant when I said I’m not good with sailing?!” Troy snapped.
He felt absolutely dreadful, with nothing to do other than pitifully lean over the railing and wait for the wave of nausea to pass.
“Maybe you were scared of water. How could I have known?” Ilya offered, but he looked genuinely guilty—and a little disgusted.
Did Troy really look that bad?
“…Ilya, I love you, man, but I need you to shut the fuck up right now…” Troy muttered.
Another strong wave hit the boat, and as the boat wobbled, so did the contents of Troy’s stomach.
Some of the other players had gathered and were watching from afar, not wanting to intrude on Troy’s hot date with the railing.
Something Troy was eternally grateful for.
He’d already lost his lunch. At least they were letting him keep some dignity.
Eventually, Troy felt well enough to peel himself away from the railing. He breathed heavily as he sank down into a sitting position against it.
He felt clammy and sweaty, and he gave a qualified guess that he probably looked pale as well.
Harris sank down beside him and rubbed his shoulder.
“Okay, this has been a very fun day…” He looked around the group.
“Now let’s get back to shore.”
Shane nodded and looked toward Ilya, who was being unusually quiet. “So we cross sailing off the list too…” he eventually muttered.
Shane looked at him dumbfounded and whacked him on the shoulder. “Obviously. At least we didn’t buy that stupid team boat.”
Ilya smiled and looked at Hollander with equal parts admiration and annoyance. “Of course you are right. Shane Hollander is always the smartest in the room.”
He turned on his heel and headed toward where the captain of the ship was steering.
Shane’s gaze followed his husband, and he sighed deeply before shaking his head.
“I think he’s heading to the captain to tell him to turn around. I’m gonna follow just to make sure he actually does, and doesn’t somehow convince him to show him how fast this thing can go.”
He directed the comment mostly toward Harris, since Troy seemed to have settled on the ground with his eyes closed and heavy breathing.
Bood eventually wandered over with a cold bottle of water in his hand. He kneeled beside Troy and glanced at the messy state his teammate was in before leaning over and passing the bottle to Harris.
Harris quickly unscrewed it and shook Troy’s shoulder.
Troy forced his eyes open and looked at the bottle.
His nose scrunched up as he pushed it away.
“I promise you, bud… the last thing you need right now is to get dehydrated on top of being seasick,” Harris argued, pressing the bottle further into his hand.
Troy grunted, but despite his reaction, he took a hesitant sip.
“I mean, it’s not all bad, right, Troy? You seemed to enjoy the first, like… five minutes,” Bood chimed in, wanting to brighten the mood somehow.
“That’s when I thought this thing might’ve worked.” Troy held up his wrist, showing off an elastic band wrapped around it.
Bood looked at it with a blank expression before returning his gaze to Troy.
“What—what am I looking at?”
“It’s a bracelet with a little button on it that’s supposed to hit a nerve or whatever…”
Troy glanced down at his own bracelet like it had personally annihilated his entire bloodline.
“The lady at the store said it worked because of acupuncture or whatever!”
“I think she might’ve scammed you, brother.” Bood snickered, still staring at the small green band around his teammate’s wrist.
“I hate all of you. Every single person on this godforsaken boat.” Troy mumbled.
“And I wish you all the worst things life has to offer.”
Harris, who was sitting beside him, rolled his eyes at the dramatics.
“Whatever you say, buddy. Let’s get you up and sitting somewhere more comfortable while I get you some water, you big baby.”
Harris, along with some help from Wyatt, got Troy hoisted up and led him to a sun chair on the deck.
“I’ll get him the water, and make sure Ilya isn’t scheming with the captain about racing us to shore,” Shane offered, giving Troy a sympathetic smile.
Thankfully, it didn’t take long for Roz and Shane to locate the captain and a cold bottle of water.
“Captain says thirty minutes till we arrive at the harbour,” Ilya announced when he appeared again.
Troy could’ve cried with relief.
Only thirty more minutes until his feet would be standing on solid ground and he could stop feeling like his stomach was on a never-ending merry-go-round.
He closed his eyes and leaned back against the deck chair.
“You still alive there, bud?” Harris asked, stroking Troy’s hair in an awfully soothing manner.
“Mhm… just hanging in there.”
Troy cradled himself tighter, his stomach furious but also too empty to bring anything else up.
“I just wish you’d been more adamant about not going. We could’ve sat this one out.” Harris spoke softly.
Troy opened one eye to look at him. The shorter man was kneeling down in front of him, eye level with him, his hands resting gently on Troy’s knees as the boat started to turn around.
“You seemed excited. You’d never sailed before,” Troy whined, running a hand through his sweaty black bangs as the contents of his stomach sloshed around.
“Yes, well, it’s hard to enjoy it when I know you’re feeling this badly.”
The shorter man offered him an all-too-soft smile.