The Games We Play

Every day that passed, Jonathan had to remind himself: Be good, don’t injure Kane, act like everything is normal for Lacey’s sake. Every day it got harder and harder to keep himself in check. The Blackhawks swept the San Jose Sharks in four games, eliminating them and moving on to the Stanley Cup Finals. It was just after Game Four, and Lacey and Derek had gone to watch the game and were headed to the locker room to congratulate the team.

“Hey!” Lacey beamed at Jonathan, rushing over to him and jumping into his open arms. She pressed a kiss to his lips and then after a little while, she moved away. “You, my friend, need to shower.”

Jonathan pretended to glare at her. “You’ve got my sweat on your shirt.”

Lacey looked down at her clothes and saw that some of Jonathan’s sweat had indeed seeped into the fabric. “Awesome,” she chuckled. “I can sell this shirt on eBay for thousands of dollars. But now I’ll need a shower, too.”

Jonathan leaned down and whispered into her ear, “Wanna come shower with me?”

Lacey blushed about twenty different shades of red. From his stall, Patrick wanted to gag.

He and Lacey hadn’t spoken since the night he kissed her in front of her apartment building. He wanted to call her, apologize for stepping out of line, go back to being friends and being comfortable with the way they were. But he knew it was too late for that now.

“So, now that you have time off, you can come watch my third game tomorrow against Southwestern,” Lacey said. “The girls on the team keep asking when I’m going to bring you back again.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Jonathan smiled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “How’s that series going, by the way?”

“We’re tied 1-1,” Lacey sighed. “We won the first game, but they dominated the second game and got a shutout. Most frustrating thing ever...but I know we can get them tomorrow.”

“Do you mind if I tag along?” Patrick asked from his spot across the room. Lacey glanced over her shoulder and her eyes trailed along the ground.

“I...um...I don’t know if that would be such a good idea, Patrick.”

“Why not?” he prodded. “Tazer gets to go see your games. I’m sure if Sharpie or Versteeg asked you’d let them go. So why not me?”

Lacey hushed her tone. “Patrick--”

“She said no, Kaner,” Jonathan said pointedly, growing irate. “No means no.”

“Yeah, like you make her decisions for her,” Patrick sneered. “I just want to know why I’m not allowed to go watch the game.”

“First off, she was the one who said that it wouldn’t be a good idea if you went, not me. I’m just trying to put it in simpler words for you because there seems to be something you just can’t grasp about the word ‘no’. And second, if she doesn’t want to explain her reasoning, she doesn’t have to. Back off.”

Patrick looked disinterested. “Was I talking to you in the first place, Toews? I don’t think so.”

Jonathan marched over to Patrick, who rose to his feet. The entire locker room went quiet. No one moved.

“How many times do we both need to tell you to fuck off?” Jonathan demanded, giving Patrick a shove for good measure. Patrick, though he was a lot shorter than Jonathan, didn’t back down.

“How many times do I have to tell you that you don’t fucking deserve her?” he countered, shoving him equally as hard. A spark ignited in Jonathan’s eyes and he reared his fist back and punched Patrick hard in the jaw. It was at that moment that people started to move again.

Sharpie grabbed Jonathan and pulled him back while Derek held onto Patrick, who was ready to get even. Lacey just stood there, horrified, her hands covering her mouth with her eyes wide.

“You never deserved her!” Patrick spat, his eyes turning dark. “You’re not fucking good enough. I don’t give a shit if you’re the captain. All you care about is hockey, I bet you don’t even give a shit about her!”

“Take that back, you mother fucking--”

“STOP!”

Everyone quieted at Lacey’s outburst.

She looked around the room, wild-eyed. She finally stopped her gaze on the two men. “Just stop it! Stop fighting! I’m not a trophy, I’m a person! And you two are teammates heading to the Stanley Cup Finals! You should be happy for getting that much closer to the Stanley Cup, not fighting over some girl. And I swear to God, if either one of you say ‘You’re not just a girl’ to me, I will never speak to either of you again.”

Both Jonathan and Patrick’s expressions softened.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you,” she continued, addressing them both, “but whatever it is, just stop it! Patrick, I want to be friends with you even after what happened, but you’re making it so hard. You’re both acting like little kids. Sort your shit out! And until then, just leave me alone!”

And with that, Lacey rushed out of the locker room and out of the arena.

Sharpie and Derek let go of Jonathan and Patrick’s arms respectively. Derek turned to both of them and frowned. “Good job, guys.”

“We didn’t mean--” Jonathan began.

Derek cut him off. “It doesn’t matter. It still happened. This all still happened,” he said, gesturing between them both. Patrick’s jaw was red where Jonathan’s fist made contact with it, and it was starting to swell. “If there’s one thing Lacey hates, it’s fighting. You both need to figure things out and apologize to each other and to her. She meant what she said before. Sort your shit out or you might never get to speak to her again.” Derek looked over at Jonathan. “Even if you are her boyfriend.”

Then he left, too.

Jonathan ran his hands over his face, rubbing at his eyes with his index and middle fingers. “Fuck,” he finally said.

Patrick sighed and shook his head. “Tazer...I’m...I’m really sorry that I said all those things,” he said. “I mean it. I shouldn’t have interfered with your relationship with Lacey. Fuck, my sisters are going to rip me limb from limb when they hear about this.”

Jonathan exhaled slowly from his mouth. “Yeah...I’m sorry for slugging you. But you’ve got to promise you’ll lay off of my girlfriend. I get that you like her...it’s hard not to, but just please, okay? You have to respect that.”

Patrick nodded solemnly. “Yeah. I promise.”

“Glad you worked that out so quickly,” Sharpie said in a flat tone. “But have you figured out how you’re going to convince Lacey that things are all peachy-keen again? Because she’s not going to believe either of you.”

“I know,” Jonathan muttered. “I don’t know. I think we should all just give her some space for a while.”

Sharpie nodded. “I think that would be best.” He turned to Patrick. “That means you too. Got it?”

Patrick gave a nod too. “Yeah. I got it.”