Empty Net by Avon Gale

normal teammates who aren’t dickheads.” Hux nodded. “So sorry about the shower. We’re not dickheads. And that’s like, my favorite comic, so I hope you like it. It’s cool you like comics. Means you can’t be that bad. And no one else on the team reads anything, so tell me what you think when you’re done with it.”
    “Thanks, Hux.” Laurent, whether he knew or it or not, used Huxley’s nickname.
    “No problem. But like, if you go back to saying dumb shit? I will beat your French ass up and get those comics back.” Hux paused. “You’re French. Right?”
    “I’m American,” Laurent said flatly. “My mother was French, my father is—”
    “A huge dickwad,” Murph offered, popping up next to Hux like an ill-timed, well-meaning jack-in-the-box.
    “French-Canadian,” Laurent finished. “But I was born here.”
    “In a bus?”
    “In America,” Isaac said, exasperated. “Seriously, y’all?”
    “He says y’all, ’cause Drake’s from Memphis.”
    “Cordova,” Laurent said. “He’s from Cordova.”
    Isaac smiled, and something warm and totally unhelpful swirled inside. He didn’t need whatever was making him feel kind of dopey. He needed Laurent to not be hated by his teammates and for them to win the Kelly Cup and for Coach Samarin to go all Russian mobster on Denis St. Savoy.
    And maybe to see Laurent walk around in nothing but a pair of jeans.
    He didn’t need whatever it was making him feel all warm and stupid about the guy. No.
    “Anyway, you played like a badass out there,” Murph continued. “But if you go back to being a dick, we’re all going to be mad.”
    “I probably will,” Laurent said, surprising Isaac. “But I won’t mean it. Sometimes it’s just what I do.”
    “Well, try and stop,” Hux said, and he and Murph popped back down and left Isaac and Laurent alone again as the bus pulled into their hotel parking lot.
    Coach Samarin rose from the shadows, and it only took a moment for the whole bus to fall silent as they acknowledged him looming there in the dark.
    “A very good game,” Coach Samarin said, and all traces of his earlier anger had vanished. “It is not easy to face one’s former team. But I think our Saint deserves some credit. Yes?”
    That got a rousing cheer, and Laurent turned redder than usual and slumped down in his seat. Isaac noticed that Samarin had adopted the nickname, and figured it would stick. He was glad.
    Isaac realized he shouldn’t cheer for a guy who might knock him out of his starter spot… but it would be nice to have a reliable backup. He just didn’t want to be the reliable backup. Lathrop had been a good player, but Isaac never felt his spot was in danger from him.
    He remembered that Belsey said he put Laurent on the team as an incentive to Isaac, and he tried to put it out of his mind. If playing with Laurent helped him be a better goalie, then that was a good thing too.
    Isaac usually left Laurent and spent the night in Hux and Murph’s room when they were on the road. But he wasn’t feuding with Laurent, so he figured he should probably stay in.
    “You coming to our room? We were thinking pizza,” said Murph, and Isaac wondered for the millionth time if Murph and Hux knew how much they acted like they were dating.
    Not even Coach Samarin and Coach Ashford said we as often as those two.
    “Not tonight, I don’t think,” Isaac said. He glanced at Laurent, who had shouldered his gear and was waiting for Coach Ashford to give out the room keycards.
    Hux and Murph stared at him. “What?” Isaac asked defensively.
    “You remember that guy you were kinda dating?”
    “Uh,” Isaac blinked. “No?”
    “He’s a Raven. The only one who doesn’t suck.” Murph thought about that. “Or who does. I dunno how you guys work that out.”
    “Xavier?” Isaac had a brief fling with the Ravens forward, Xavier Matthews, but it didn’t last, since Matthews refused to even consider coming out. He was a nice guy, but Isaac