Chapter 134: WITHOUT REACHING

When they walked in, the locker room was noisy.

The actions followed well-known patterns. The gear was taken out of the lockers and the jerseys were put on over the heads.

All through the place there was the sound of Velcro tearing and zippers rubbing.

The smell of sweat and soap was strong and heavy, mixing with the slight metallic taste coming from the rink outside the doors. The fluorescent lights made a humming noise above.

Jack put on his jersey. The material was cold when it came into contact with his skin. His actions were mechanical. His eyes were focused on his hands.

The laces on his skates were tight and his fingers moved with well-practised precision.

Luca was only a few lockers away. He attached his stick. He moved with care and precision. It was the same old rhythm. It was the same old routine. The tape was wrapped around the blade in even layers.

They didn't look at one another.

Sam's voice pierced through the noise. "Right, who took my left glove?"

Jay's voice was even. "You left it on the bench."

"That's not theft; that's concealment."

"You left it."

"Same thing."

Noah laughed in a quiet manner. The laugh was soft and warm. It spread across the room.

Jack looked in their direction. Jay was standing next to Noah. Their shoulders were nearly in contact. Their hands were almost touching. Not quite. But almost. Jay's fingers moved towards Noah's then halted.

They were suspended and so were unable to take part; in fact, they weren't even allowed to sit with the team when going through the drills. Yet they remained together and still made choices about one another.

Jack turned his gaze away. His jaw clenched. He concentrated on his skates.

The rink was cold.

When Jack put his feet on the ice, the cold air struck his cheeks and caused them to tingle.

The hum of the cooling system was felt through his skates and went up through his ankles.

The smell of the fresh ice and old sweat filled his lungs. As his skates cut into the surface, they left behind thin white lines.

The ice was smooth and had not been disturbed except for the traces left by the morning's maintenance.

He made a clear choice. He would not keep looking at Luca.

Naturally, he failed.

Over the ice Luca could be seen by him. The way the edges of his skate cut into the surface. The way his stick moved as if it were a part of his arm.

The way his breath formed a mist in the cold air. The way his jersey stuck to his shoulders. Luca's shape was precise and his movements smooth.

Rather than continually attempting to draw Luca's attention, Jack concentrated on playing. His passes were sharp, his shots clean and his timing exact.

The game took control and his body moved on instinct. The puck came to his stick and he moved towards the net.

The coach carried out the drills in a rigorous and fast manner, his voice slicing through the cold air, sharp and persistent, and the team went through them with well-practised precision.

Jay and Noah were sitting on the bench. They had put on their skates and had taken off their gloves.

Their bodies remained still as they watched the players move across the ice.

Noah had his hands clasped together and his knuckles were white. Jay's thigh was pressing against his own.

Noah's jaw was clenched. His hands were held in fists on the backs of his knees. He watched each pass, each shot, and each move. The muscles in his neck were tight with tension and a vein was pulsing at his temple.

Jay’s hand reached for Noah's under the bench and their fingers joined together, out of sight. The warmth from Jay’s palm poured into Noah’s cold skin.

Noah spoke in a quiet voice, so that it was hardly noticeable against the noise of the rink. "I hate this."

Jay smiled, a gentle expression reserved just for Noah. "I know."

"We are meant to be out there playing."

"We will be."

Noah looked at him and said, "Do you really think we'll get in to the final?"

There was no hesitation on Jay's part. "I think we'll get in to the final."

Then Noah asked, lowering his voice. "And if we don't?"

Jay pressed his hand. The pressure was warm and continuous. "In that case I'll still be sitting by you."

Noah's throat worked. His eyes shone. The fluorescent light reflected off the moisture in them. He gripped Jay's fingers more tightly.

Jay moved his thumb in little circles on his palm. "Nothing will matter."

Noah nodded and his grip on Jay's fingers became tighter.

The coach presented the players who were active with a tough drill across the ice.

Luca had difficulty with that particular move; his edges caught on and caused him to slide a bit.

He misplaced the puck with his stick. His body was unbalanced and had leaned too far forward.

The puck slipped out of his grasp. Under his breath he cursed, at the same time his breath formed fog in the cold.

Jack realised right away. He saw the issue—Luca was opening his shoulder too early. The angle was incorrect.

The timing was wrong. He was shifting his weight before the puck came. His left shoulder was dropping, which was causing his whole body to go out of alignment.

Usually, Jack would go over and correct him by putting his hands on Luca's arms to adjust his posture and then say something stupid in order to relieve the tension, after which Luca would roll his eyes and then have it fixed.

Jack almost did.

He stopped himself.

He changed direction. Rather than go towards Luca, he skated over to another member of the team.

He spoke in a low voice so that it could be understood only by the player next to him. "Keep an eye on his left side since he's opening his shoulder too early; tell him to close it."

The teammate nodded and then went towards Luca, spoke something, pointed at Luca's shoulder and showed how it should be done with his own body.

Luca made a adjustment; his edges became smoother and he caught the puck with his stick. The drill went on and his movements were now cleaner and more controlled.

Luca understood what had taken place. Looking over the ice, he spotted Jack who was already skating off. Jack had his back to Luca and his shoulders were straight. The number on his jersey could be seen.

Luca's chest constricted. He gripped his stick with his fingers. He said nothing, but he noticed and kept his eyes on Jack's retreating figure.

Jack was learning to distinguish between helping Luca and forcing himself into Luca's space.

While they were having a break of water, the team spread out on the bench.

The bodies leaned against the boards, water bottles were opened and breathing came in uneven gasps; the sounds from the rink died as the players rested.

Luca was sitting close to the boards with his water bottle in his hand. His breathing was irregular, his chest going up and down under his jersey.

Sweat was dripping from his temples and followed lines through the dirt on his cheeks. His fingers were slick against the plastic.

He attempted to open the bottle, but his grip slipped and the bottle fell from his hand, struck the ice with a dull thud and rolled under the bench.

The plastic crept across the surface and vanished into the shadows under the metal frame. The sound resounded in the quiet.

Luca muttered a curse under his breath. He crouched down and tried to get it. His fingers just touched the bottle. It moved a bit further.

He stretched out, but his shoulder objected. The muscles in his back contracted. He was unable to reach it.

Before he had time to think, Jack moved and dropped on one knee, taking the bottle in his hand. The plastic felt cool in his palm and the ridges of the cap pressed into his fingers.

He held it out.

For a moment their hands came so close that they almost made contact. Luca's fingers just brushed Jack's. The touch was short and electrifying.

Jack was able to feel the warmth of Luca's skin and could see the slight tremor in his fingers. The air between them appeared to become thicker.

Luca reached for the bottle and looked neither at Jack nor elsewhere. His voice was flat as he said, "Thanks."

Jack nodded. "You're welcome."

That was all there was to it no emotional exchange and no lingering glances.

But Luca gripped the bottle more tightly than was necessary. With his thumb he ran slowly along the ridges of the lid and kept his eyes on the area where Jack's hand had been.

By the time practice ended.

They removed themselves from the ice, the sticks making a clattering noise on the rubber matting. Blades scraping could be heard in the tunnel.

The lights were humming above, throwing long shadows over the walls. The smell of sweat and cold air trailed behind them.

Jay spotted Jack by himself close to the lockers. The hallway had no one in it. The sound of the locker room was softened by the door. The tiles were cold under their feet.

Jay put his back against the wall with his arms folded. He spoke in a quiet voice. "You're doing it in a different way."

Jack looked at him and said, "What are you doing?"

"Luca," Jay's eyes remained steady. "You're not going after him."

Jack said nothing; his jaw was clenched and his hands were in his pockets. The soft fabric of his hoodie was in contact with his knuckles.

He looked at him and said, "And you're okay with that?"

Jack laughed lightly. The laugh sounded hollow. "No."

The key point is this: "Just because I want him doesn't mean I have the right to continue hurting him."

Jay's expression altered. A flash appeared in his eyes respect and understanding. He said nothing, instead giving a nod.

He raised his hand and once touched Jack on the shoulder. The gesture was short, but it conveyed all that needed to be said.