Goal Lines & First Times (CU Hockey 3)

It takes a long-ass time for him to message back, and when he does, my gut sinks.

Richie: Why are you suddenly ready?

Einstein: I don’t know. But I am.

I so am not.

He doesn’t reply.

Einstein: Do you not want to anymore?

Richie: I do, but why do I get the feeling you’re doing this for the wrong reasons?

Why do I get the feeling he’s a big stupid liar who lies?

Einstein: We haven’t really talked much lately, and I can feel you drifting away.

Richie: So you want to meet because you think I’m guilting you into it by not being around?

Einstein: No. That’s not it.

I’m not even sure who I’m talking to anymore. For months, I’ve been thinking he’s a hockey player from UVM named Richie.

I should’ve looked him up sooner. I was so proud of myself for being strong and not giving in. This is where playing fair gets you.

Richie: Look, I want you to know, I’m not pulling away on purpose. There’s a new guy on the sports team I play for but can’t talk about with you because you hate it, and we’re not gelling on the floor made of frozen water. This is me, still not talking about the game. Also with midterms and studying, I’ve been super busy. If that made you think I was guilting you into meeting me, I’m sorry.

Him no longer pushing to meet doesn’t seem like a good sign. But at the same time, I know how busy Foster got this time of year with hockey and school, so he’s probably telling the truth.

I take a deep breath.

Einstein: I know you don’t go to UVM.

There. I said it.

Richie: How do you know?

Einstein: There’s no Richie on the UVM hockey roster.

Richie: You looked me up. Even though you won’t tell me your actual name.

Einstein: Well either Richie’s not yours either or you don’t go to UVM.

It takes him a while to write back to that, which prickles my suspicions even more.

Richie: I don’t have to explain anything to you. I’m the one who wants to meet. I’m the one who wants more. And you went behind my back to find me. I might not have told the truth about every single little thing, but you know who I am deep down. I’ve talked to you about shit I’ve never spoken about with anyone. Yet, I don’t even know your real name, EINSTEIN.

So now he’s pissed at me? He lies to me, and he’s pissed?

And for fuck’s sake why am I starting to feel guilty?

Another message comes through.

Richie: So, what, your offer to meet was a trap to see if I’d do it? To see how I’d react?

Okay, that he’s allowed to be pissed at.

Einstein: I wanted to meet. I thought it was time. But I wanted to be sure. That’s why I looked you up and realized you’re not who you say you are.

Richie: I’m exactly who I say I am, but you’re right. I don’t go to UVM. Like you, I was worried about people tracking me down on my actual campus.

Einstein: If you lied about that, what else have you lied about?

Richie: Look, I have to go. I’ve got practice. If you want to meet, I’ll do it. Whenever and wherever you want. But make sure it’s for the right reasons and not because you want to trick me or find an excuse to push me away.

Apprehension hits me because I don’t know what I want anymore.

Well, that’s not totally true.

I want Richie to be Richie and for us to meet and nothing to change.

That’s starting to feel impossible now though.

I wish I could rewind and keep messaging this kindhearted man who’s making me fall for him, without knowing that he’s not who I thought he was. There was trust between us, open possibility, and now I’ve ruined that in all of a few minutes.

I feel sick.

I go to shove my phone away and head home when it starts to ring in my hand. For one wild, heart-stopping moment, I think it’s Richie, but then I see my brother’s name on the display.

Ugh, not now.

“Hey, what’s up?” My voice cracks, but thankfully he doesn’t hear.

A loud yawn hits my ears. “Just having a quick break before we get back into it, and I thought I’d call my favorite brother.”

“Only brother.”

“Eh, details.”

I reluctantly grin. “What do you want?”

Foster laughs, and while we don’t have that thing where twins can read each other’s minds, I can always tell when he wants something from me. The last piece of pie, my best friend … Nope. Not going there.

“You know how you and Zach are driving up for the New Year’s Eve game?”

“Obviously.”

“Any chance you can give Beck and Jacobs a ride?”

I screw my whole face up. “Jacobs is fine. But Beck can find his own way. I’ve met that guy twice maybe, and he rubs me the wrong way.”