The rink was quiet. Dim, save for the lights left to illuminate the ice. Breathing though he didn’t need to, just to see the cold, he steadied himself before opening the door, and stepping onto the ice, stick in hand. The sound of his skate blades cutting the ice hit his ears, and he felt zoned in.
The rink had been set up for a little league’s hockey practice, but the nets hadn’t been put away, which is exactly what Casey had hoped for. He skated toward the center of the ice, and dropped the puck, edging it dead center with the blade of his stick, before he began to circle it, still breathing meditatively as he did so. Until he was ready.
He stopped when he was ready, and closed his eyes. There was no game here, no team, yet he still felt the beginnings of that adrenaline rush. Tonight’s journey was about scoring goals rather than protecting people, as there was no one there who needed protection.
Reopening his eyes, he looked down, zeroing in on the puck. He skated to an appropriate angle, and began to skate towards the home goal net, moving the puck back and forth with the stick blade, his breathing controlled; measured.
Some distance away, he took his shot. An easy goal. Retrieving the puck, he went back to center, and began again, aiming to get goals from further and further out, until he missed. Making goals was certainly something he was capable of, but he never got to do it often.
Being rusty, he only made about a third of the goals he attempted. Scowling, he skated up and down the length of the rink before trying again. He did better this time. Satisfied, he pocketed the puck, and simply skated, the blade of his hockey stick skimming the ice as he did so.
The sound of his skates cutting the ice as he went was soothing to him. He allowed himself to get lost in memories of games past; of triumphs and losses. Of his last game.
His skating slowed as he thought of his last game, before picking up speed a final time around the rink before heading back to the gate.
He didn’t see anyone standing nearby. He didn’t hear as they approached.
“You skate beautifully.” a voice sounded.
Casey looked up, startled. “Alex. What are you doing here?”
“Just watching you.” he replied.
“How did you know I was here?” he asked.
Drake shrugged. “I have a Billy.”
“That you do.” Casey said with a smile, walking expertly in the skates towards the bench where he’d left his things.
“That cannot be easy.” he commented, watching Casey walk while wearing the skates.
“It just takes practice.” he replied, sitting down.
Drake shoved his hands into his pockets, and followed Casey.
“You’re not upset I had Billy look up where you were, are you?” he asked.
Casey shook his head. “No. Just curious as to why.”
“You weren’t home.” he shrugged.
“You could have called.” Casey teased.
“I did.” he said, gesturing to Casey’s phone on the bench.
Casey picked up the phone and looked it over. “So you did.” he sighed.
Drake turned Casey to look toward him instead of his phone. “You know, those skates make you a little taller.”
“A little.” he said, smiling. “We’re about even on height now.”
“Even enough to look into those eyes without effort.” Drake said.
“Come on now.” Casey said, feeling flustered. “They’re not that great.”
“Leave that opinion to me.” he said, leaning in to give Casey a kiss.
“Okay…fine…” Casey mumbled after Drake pulled away.
For his part, Drake was just amused as he watched Casey sit, and put the guards back on his skates before untying them before pulling them off.
“Do you skate often?” he finally asked.
Casey shook his head. “Not anymore.”
“You should. You’re good, from what I could see.” Drake said, continuing to watch Casey.
Casey pulled on his shoes, tying them as he spoke. “To what end though? I can’t play anymore.”
“Are you sure about that?” he queried.
“I don’t see how.” Casey sighed. He stood again, picking up the hockey stick, and turned his attention back to Drake. “How long do I have you for?”
“I’ve done some delegating, so, we have time.” Drake said with a smile. “So what would you like to do?”
“A movie sounds great.” he admitted.
“Your place, or a theater?” he asked.
“My place is fine. Quieter, too.” he admitted.
“True. Alright. Your place it is then. I’ll meet you there.” Drake said, pulling the keys to his car from his pocket. “See you there.” He leaned in to give Casey another kiss, then pulled away with a smirk, lingering a moment before leaving the arena.
Casey watched him leave, a feeling of disbelief settling over him, the same as it did every time he got together with Drake. It could be summed up simply: how in the hell had he been lucky enough for Drake to be interested in him? He was used to not getting the guy he wanted. Now that he had him, he just didn’t know what to do. Coming to terms with it was difficult right now, because they weren’t able to spend a lot of time together.
At least you’re used to not being public about your relationships the little voice in his head told him. Casey frowned as he headed toward his car, doing his best to ignore the little voice. He tossed his hockey stick and the pick into the trunk of his car, and headed for home.
After all, he didn’t want to keep drake waiting.