Russ makes me feel content, the one thing I didn’t realize I needed.
We shuffle closer, sinking deeper into the blankets, facing each other, totally ignoring the cartoon rat being projected onto the wall. “You tell me a secret,” I whisper.
“It’s not a secret because a lot of people know about it, but can I tell you about something bad that happened to me? Something I really hate talking about?”
“Of course.” I’m patient while he awkwardly shuffles around, clearly delaying things. His leg slips between mine, hand rests on the curve of my waist and, just when I think he’s about to start talking, he leans in and kisses me instead. Breaking us apart, I rest my forehead against his. “I’m still going to be here to kiss you when you’re done sharing,” I say softly.
“Did you hear about the hockey rink getting trashed at the start of the year?”
“I think so, maybe? Didn’t you guys have to share the other rink or something?”
“Yeah. Well, it was my fault.”
My jaw almost unhinges itself. “You trashed a hockey rink?”
“No! Of course not. I, uhm, I met this girl, Leah, at a party and she was nice to me. I’d gone with some guys I lived with. Leah kissed me, we messed around a bit, not all the way.”
Someone tell me why I’m jealous. “Then every party I went to, Leah was there and we ended up hooking up a few times. I liked her and I thought maybe, just maybe, sophomore year wouldn’t be trash and I could have some happiness. Next thing I know I’ve got her boyfriend in my DMs threatening me. They’d been fighting or whatever, she’d been using me to get back at him.”
“I’m so sorry she did that to you.”
“Oh, it gets so much worse.” He laughs, but it’s humorless. “This thing between her and her boyfriend was super toxic, one of those relationships everyone loves to hate. So when she found out she was pregnant”—what the fuck—“she told her older brother, who’s a hockey player at UCLA, that she’d been ghosted. I’d blocked her when I found out about the boyfriend. She wouldn’t give them my name, just that it was someone on my team thinking that’d be the end of it, but it wasn’t. They trashed the rink.”
“Oh, Russ.”
“I wanted to drop out because of it; I was so embarrassed. If Nate hadn’t literally held my hand through it, I would have. It was bad enough when I thought it had been trashed because of her boyfriend but this was so, so much worse. Everyone was talking about it, I had to go to meetings about it until it was proven I hadn’t done anything. It was a fucking mess.”
“You have no reason to feel embarrassed! You’re the victim in all of this. You didn’t do anything other than hook up with a girl at a party and there’s nothing wrong with that. You could have hooked up with every girl at that party, it still doesn’t make someone using you as a scapegoat okay.”
“That’s what Stassie and Lola say, but I haven’t been able to shake the guilt. When I’m on campus, I’m wondering if people are thinking about it when they see me. I hate having to play UCLA knowing that’s what they’ll all be thinking about.”
“I hate that this has been eating at you. When something happens it feels so huge to you, but that’s because it’s happening to you, but in reality, most people don’t know or care. If everyone was talking about it like you feel like they are, I’d already know everything. I just heard there was some damage. Nothing about you.”
“You really didn’t know?”
“No! I promise I didn’t. But someone took advantage of you, Russ. You gotta stop punishing yourself for it.” I stroke his face with my thumb and he kisses the palm of my hand. “If you overthink it, you won’t be able to move on. So what, a rink got trashed? It’s not like somebody died! Do you know how much stuff I’ve trashed by accident?”
“Some fence lines I’d guess.”
“That wasn’t an accident.” I roll my eyes, leaning in closer. “But my point remains. You’re a great person, your friends love you and the dogs love you. That’s all I think about when I think of you. How easy you are to l— like.”
“I don’t know why I’m bringing it up now. I’m sorry, have I fucked up our first date already?” His eyes shut and he sighs, sinking further into the pillows.
Sometimes I want to shake this man, because he doesn’t realize how happy him handing over those pieces of himself he keeps so tight to his chest makes me.