In which the recently named captain of the Olympic hockey team calls up his girl to confess his doubts in his newfound position.
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Rizzo can't believe it. He can't believe he has been voted captain. When Herb told them Rizzo thought for sure it would followed with a laugh and a "gotcha!" His mouth fell open in shock, his breath hitched in his throat. He can't find the net, he's probably the least valuable player on this team, but somehow these boys - and Herb - think he's capable of being their captain. But the punchline never came. Herb was being serious and Rizzo thought it implausible. Even the boys seemed...excited. They cheered and clapped him on the back, congratulating him on a job well done.
He smiled - a smile that most likely gave away his confusion - graciously accepting their compliments and the leadership position. But he doubted himself and, while he tried to push it away, the thought was ever present in the back of his mind throughout the duration of the day.
Thus, the first thing he did when he returned to his room was call her. He dialed the number from memory. Remembering it from when he burned it into his brain after she wrote it on his hand so long ago. He waited impatiently as the phone rang, tapping his fingers against his thigh, waiting for her to pick it up on the other end.
"Hello?"
Delight reaches his ears at the sound of her voice. He smiles to himself, hoping his tone will convey it through the phone lines. "Hi, love."
"Mike! Hi!"
He frowns as how tired her voice seems, guilt settling into his stomach. He knows she worries when he travels, but he didn't mean to keep her up worrying about him. Not mirroring her enthusiasm, he asks, "did I wake you up?"
"Oh, no," she replies quickly. "I was actually just getting ready to get in bed...but I would much rather talk to you. How is everything?"
Rizzo smiles at how happy she seems, her voice coming through a mile per minute. Any hint of exhaustion has been replaced with the joy of finally talking to him. He takes the blame for not calling her in a few days. He was busy, he was worried, and he didn't want to bother her with his anxiety. As much as his fingers itched to feel the familiar bumps of the phone against them as he dialed her number, he couldn't bring himself to do so. He always found a convenient excuse to not.
Nonetheless, they are talking now. The sound of her voice easing every one of his worries. She doesn't seem angry he went so long without speaking to her. But that wasn't part of her personality anyway. Rather, she is all the more eager to hear about what he's been doing. He can imagine how she's sitting, propped up against the headboard, a smile on her pretty face, twirling the phone cord around a gentle finger as she waits for his reply.
"Mike?"
"I'm here, sorry. I'm just glad I get to talk to you,"
"You know you can always call me, Mike." She assures. "And don't give me any of that 'I don't want to bother you with my problems' crap." Rizzo almost laughs at the stern tone she takes. It's not that he is laughing at her, but he finds it adorable when her face drops its signature smile to be serious. "Your problems are mine and mine are yours. We're in this together, right?"
