I race down the ice, pressing the puck against my stick. A large defender comes at me from the side, so I snap the puck towards Matthew as the defender slams me into the boards. 

Matthew tips the puck into the net and the crowd goes crazy, tying the game at 2-2. It's hot in my jersey, and sweat makes my hair stick to my forehead under my helmet. I chew on my mouthguard and grin as Ollie slaps my helmet.

"Nice assist!" he shouts, though it's hard to hear. Fans bang against the clear wall and holler with excitement. 

There's only ten minutes left of the game. My fingers tingle as the ref blows the whistle and we huddle for a time out.

Coach is pulling at his tie anxiously. "If we lose this game, we can say goodbye to a playoffs spot," he shouts. "We are a much better team than they are. We need to play an offensive game here, focus on getting the puck to the net..."

He goes on and I glance around the stands. Mom is here somewhere, wearing her Lions sweatshirt. So are Hailey, Veronica, and Sam. 

The last couple days have been weird. But not bad. Just confusing. I shake my head as thoughts start to leak in my brain. I have to focus on hockey. Remember?

The game starts again, and all I think about is the sweet scent of sweat and the harsh sound of blades against ice, the cheering of the fans and the feel of the stick in my gloved hands, the layout of the opposing team and where to go. With three minutes left, I flick my wrist and the puck goes flying over the goalie's shoulder, burrowing itself in the top corner of the net. We win 3-2. Is this what happiness feels like?

In the locker room, I shower quickly and pull on warm sweatpants, a Lions t-shirt, and baseball hat. Ethan is rattling loudly beside me as he yanks on a sweatshirt. 

"So Lacy and I got into a fight the other day, right? I don't know, something about me not paying enough attention to her. So I gave her flowers - is that not so fucking sweet of me? I know. Anyway. So today she came to the game, which I'm so glad of, 'cause I made some amazing saves. Like, the one in second period? When I reached out and just barely caught it - holy shit, that was a good one."

I stand up and swing my hockey bag around my shoulder. "Yeah, that was a really good one," I say. "And flowers are sweet."

"I know, right?" He grins and sits down on the bench, pulling on his running shoes. 

"You have a ride home today?"

"Yeah, yeah, you told me."

"Alright. I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you."

The locker room is mostly cleared out, with only a few players left, talking quietly. I'm almost to the door when a few reporters stop me. 

"Great game, Cameron," says one of them. "Do you mind if we ask a couple quick questions?"

"Um..." I glance at the door. "Sure."

Tape recorders are held up. "How important was tonight's game?"

"A pretty important one." I stuff my hands in my pockets and bounce on my toes. "Um, but I think the team held up well under the pressure. We did what we had to do, which was... ultimately, win."

"What kind of position are the Lions in, heading towards the playoffs?"

"I think we're in a pretty good spot."

"And finally..." the one journalist smiles shyly. "Some fans are wondering about your personal life. Any relationships?"

"Um..." I shift my bag on my shoulder. "Yeah, I have a boyfriend." The words taste funny and something tightens on my heart. 

The journalists stare at me silently, their eyes wide. Do they think I'm going to talk more?

"That's all," I say, and walk out the locker room door. 

~

Sam is sitting in the passenger seat, and my hand is on the steering wheel, but the car isn't moving. I haven't pulled out of the parking lot yet. 

"So. Boyfriend." He smiles. "I wasn't made aware of this new relationship status."  

"I'm sorry," I say. "I shouldn't have said that without talking to you."

"No, it's okay. Cameron, I'm really proud of you."

I sigh. The car is so quiet and the air is so fragile. "I think I'm ruining my career." I didn't mean to whisper.

"No, you're not." Sam pulls his sweatshirt over his hands and smiles softly. "You're not ruining anything."

"I feel like I did something really, really bad."

"You didn't."

I glance out the car window. Downtown St. Anne is lit up against the dark sky, and wet snow is glazed over the pavement. "I'm sorry."

"Don't say that. You're always apologizing for things you don't need to."

I shrug and glance at him, at his blue eyes. "Your eye is looking better." 

His fingers fly up to the face. The purple is really faded now. "I guess."

"Sam."

"Cameron."

"I don't want to screw up."

"Cameron, you're allowed to screw up." A car's headlights flash briefly through the window, and his freckles illuminate. "I screw up too."

"I feel like... things are about to fall apart."

"Me too. But they won't."

I rub my forehead. "I don't even know who I am."

"Me neither."

"So, we're fucked."

Sam laughs. "Yeah." He takes my hand. 

I have a boyfriend. Is this what happiness feels like? I start the car. 

~

Everyone is talking at school. I try not to listen. But it's hard.

"Faggot."

I shoot a glare towards the group of guys standing by the lockers, and my hands clench at my side. "Fuck you," I mutter. 

The guys snicker. I think they're all on the baseball team. I wish I could fight them. But it's not just them. Everyone is turning to look at me, whispering. And I'm too tired to fight everyone.

"But I thought he was good at hockey."

"God doesn't approve of behavior like that."

"Shh, lower your voice."

"I sit behind him in French."

I unlock my locker. It takes me three tries. When I grab my textbook and turn around, I spot Ethan down the hallway. He walks toward me.

"Dude," he says loudly. People glance over their shoulders. "What the fuck."

"Ethan..." Something in my heart sinks. 

"I cannot believe this."

"I just -"

"How could you not have told me?" He looks hurt, and his dark eyes are heavy with confusion. 

"What?"

"I thought you were my best friend. I can't believe I heard about this from the fucking news."

"Oh."

"Yeah." He shakes his head and sighs deeply.

I could laugh. Or cry with relief. "I'm sorry. I am your best friend. It's just been hard."

"Jesus, man." He punches my shoulder and half-smiles. "You could've told me. I'm here for you, okay?"

"Okay," I say. 

I think this would be a good moment for a bro-hug. But that's too gay. 

Just kidding. Ethan hugs me. 

I hear about it all through my classes. It's weird, having people talk about me and trying to analyze me and figure me out, when I don't have myself figured out at all. There are news reports and sports articles about it rolling in online that I don't really read. 

"Thanks, Cameron." That's what Henry says to me in the hallway. He's smiling. I almost don't recognize him at first, the scrawny underclassman with the blond hair, the one that had the bloody nose way back in the fall. 

Thanks? Thanks for what? I didn't do anything. And I still don't know what I'm supposed to do. No one wrote a fucking rule book.

I'm glad when the day is over. I drive Sam home. He probably didn't have a great day either, and he lets his eyes flutter shut in the passenger seat beside me. I breathe deeply as the windshield wipers squeak against the glass. Yeah, I have a boyfriend. Yeah, we're fucked. But aren't things always supposed work out in the end?

A/N hooraaaaay for writing cause I love this storyyyyy :)