Page 95 of Two for Roughing

Play resumed before Damir could find out what Kilian had said after being accused of ogling the opposition. They were both on the first power play unit, so they took their places at the faceoff circle, and the game began again. They had sixteen minutes left, and Damir intended to make them count. Since the Sea Lions didn’t play until tomorrow, this marked the NHL’s first-ever game with an out gay player. It wouldn’t be auspicious to lose.

Luckily, the Fury were confused by the entire incident and unwilling to tail Kilian too hard. No one got into his personal space, allowing Damir to shoot him a pass from within the faceoff circle that he took all the way to the opposing goal unimpeded.

Their goalie was no Petterson. Kilian made the shot, and the lamp lit up.

Perhaps the Firecrackers’ goal celebrations were a tad too effusive in the face of what some players (and probably some fans) would see as an unjust penalty. In response, the Fury doubled down in the stupidest way possible, netting penalties for roughing against Fulls and boarding against Cerny in quick succession.

With Kilian and Damir both on the power play, they went three for three, scoring one right after the other. Having a partner who could read his plays and who had enough creative skills himself to find the right strategy, the free lane, the perfect angle, was something Damir had sorely missed on the Firecrackers’ roster. Matheson centered Damir’s line in five-on-five. But he wasn’t quick enough to keep up with Damir consistently, as Matheson was more the type of player to linger around the crease, flirting with goaltender interference to finish a play.

Kilian was a breath of fresh air.

Damir knew splitting up the strongest players made sense; it kept two lines functional enough to score with some regularity. But he hoped he could play more with Kilian. He hoped he could always play with Kilian.

He—

He needed to nip these thoughts in the bud.

Kilian had been more than clear with him, and Damir needed to stop embarrassing himself.

They won by a substantial margin, which should have pulled Damir out of his funk. Hoping it would help, he lingered in the showers, trying to blast away his annoyance at himself with hot water.

“Oh, Denny!” Lissy called from a nearby stall.

Damir gritted his teeth in irritation.

“I can smell your bad mood. What’s gotten your panties in a twist? Were your two points not enough to satisfy?”

If the Firecrackers could scrape a playoff spot, Damir could be in the running for the Hart at his current scoring pace. He was very satisfied with his performance. He just wasn’t satisfied generally.

“I’m fine,” he said.

“No, you’re not, my grumpy Russian bear. Hey, guys, should we be feeling down tonight?”

“No!” chorused too many teammates for Damir’s comfort.

“What do we do when someone’s down?”

“Lift ’em up!” Ketchup called cheerfully.

“And how do we lift them up?”

“No,” Damir said. “Please, no.”

“With the helicopter!” Matheson poked his head around from his shower stall. Apparently, he wanted to watch.

Lissy advanced on Damir with his hips swirling mesmerizingly. It was truly a special skill, one that would be at home in a strip club or an asylum.

Damir looked up at the ceiling. Why him? Why now?

“What the fuck,” Kilian said.

Lissy paused in his advance.

Kilian stood in the doorway to the showers, finally finished with postgame media, which had probably been a shitshow of reporters clamoring to talk about his sexuality and the penalty he’d drawn. He had his caddy in hand and a towel slung over his shoulders, but he still wore his compression shorts. Why? Everyone saw one another naked in the shower.

Maybe he didn’t want to make the other guys uncomfortable.

Damir would do the same in his position.