Slapshot

Chapter 22: The Bad Game

Jonathan's POV

I was back at school for the first time all week, here to watch the game. It'd be starting soon, but I wanted to see, and talk to, Coach.

I walked throughout the halls, planning to first check his office, then the changeroom. I didn't have to go far, though, because I spotted him right outside his office.

"Hey, Coach." I said. His eyes shot up, softening when they saw me.

"We've missed you, Jon. How are you doing?" He asks, greeting me.

"I'm not bad. I'm just not medically cleared yet to play. I go back to the doctor's tomorrow, though." I tell him. I really hope my doctor would tell me everything was all right when I went to my appointment tomorrow. I've been taking my medication, and doing what I'm supposed to be doing to get better... kinda.

"I hope everything's alright, I really do." Coach says.

"Yeah, me too." I sigh. He starts walking, gesturing for me to walk with him.

"You're here to watch the game?" He asks me.

"Yeah." I reply. "I'm just gonna say hi to everyone in the room." I tell Coach. We were almost there now, so he nods, walking the other way.

I step inside, the loud pre-game chatters evident. God, I missed this so much. I missed skating, and it's only been a week.

I round the corner, and suddenly everyone's seen me. A chorus of "Jon!"s surface throughout the room.

"Good luck, guys. I'll be rooting for you." I tell them. "Uh, be hard on the forecheck. That's how we beat the Jags last year. They aren't that good." I say.

"Thanks Captain." Noah says, giving me a smile.

I leave the room then, about to walk out the door when I hear my name being called. I turn, Maria's standing just behind me.

"Good luck babe." I say, giving her a quick peck. She puts her hands around my neck, giving me another.

"Thank you." She chuckles.

She lets go, so I grab the door handle. "I'll see you after the game." I say. She blows me a kiss as I leave. I walk into the ice rink, the bleachers already filled. As I'm climbing up, looking for a spot, I hear my name being called.

"Jonathan!" I look again, mentally cursing. Taylor? There was an open seat beside her. Fuck, I just looked at her, there's no walking past her now. So much for distance. I was so bad at this.

"Hey." I mumble, as she moves her crutches for me to sit.

"Oh my god," She says, and I turn my head to her. "Have you been putting anything on your cheek? It looks bad, Jon." She mumbles, using one of her hands to examine my face.

Fuck. Could she 1. please stop touching my face, and 2. please stop looking at my face, and 3. please back up? I crossed my hands over the hem of my pants, hoping to cover anything evident.

"No, I haven't used anything." I say, turning the other way. Her hand falls. If she noticed my cheek so quickly... I wonder what Coach thought.

"How are you feeling?" She asks.

"I'm fine, you don't have to keep asking every time you see me." I let out a chuckle.

"It's been four days." She counters. "I just want you to get better." Why does she always say stuff like that? It was so much easier ignoring her before the both of us got hurt, but I think this whole situation brought us closer, in a bittersweet way.