Hat Trick Overtime: A Classic Winter’s Night
By Jeff Adams
An imprint of JMS Books LLC
Visit queerteen-press.com for more information.
Copyright 2014 Jeff Adams
ISBN 9781611525601
* * * *
Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com
Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.
All rights reserved.
WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published in the United States of America. Queerteen Press is an imprint of JMS Books LLC.
* * * *
Thanks to my Will, my wonderful husband, for his ongoing support and helping me get this short ready to publish. My awesome beta readers—Elvis Murks, Michael Offutt and Connor Youngberg—took time out of their Christmas week to offer feedback and I can’t thank them enough for that. The biggest thanks of all goes to the readers of Hat Trick. I love hearing what you thought of the book and I’m thrilled that many of you have asked to see more of Simon and Alex.
* * * *
Hat Trick Overtime: A Classic Winter’s Night
By Jeff Adams
Hat Trick Overtime: A Classic Winter’s Night
About Jeff Adams
About Queerteen Press
“That was rough,” Alex said. “But, oh my God, Simon, we just played hockey on a baseball field!”
Yes, we’d just lost in overtime to Western Michigan in the semis of the Great Lakes Invitational. But we’d played the game outside at Detroit’s Comerica Park. The team was a mix of emotions, shifting between the disappointment of the loss and the thrill of GLI moving outside as part of the events around the NHL Winter Classic. As Alex and I departed the stadium with our teammates, my excitement was hard to contain. I was somewhere between walking and bouncing as we headed out into the crisp night.
“I knew we’d play GLI,” I said, “but for our first to be outside, in a baseball stadium is unreal. The pond at home will never quite be the same after playing here.”
“Right!” Alex said, focusing on the overall experience rather than the loss. “I thought Consol was the pinnacle of places I’d play, but tonight was spectacular. It was a crushing loss, but still an amazing game. You don’t often get that combo.”
We laughed and playfully bumped into each other before I took Alex’s hand in mine. Tonight was our seventeenth game as Wolverines and we were having a solid season so far with a regular season record of 10-3-2. While we were hopeful our season would end with a trip to the Frozen Four in April, it would be difficult to top playing GLI outside.
It was a testament to how well the team accepted us that we could walk hand-in-hand and not have anyone question it. Of course, pretty much everyone knew we were a couple before we arrived in Ann Arbor since we’d met most of the team after signing our scholarships. There were some teammates who kept their distance, but the majority of the guys were friendly. On the ice, however, we were a solid unit and no one’s life outside the game mattered.
We were on the hunt for dinner. It was near eleven o’clock and the streets were bustling. The Hockeytown Winter Festival was winding down for the night, but there was still plenty going on.
“Guys,” called out our captain from the front of the group, “there’s a Hard Rock not too far from here. How’s that sound?”
Affirmative murmurs came from all around. Danny, another freshman and one of our best friends, gave the loudest response, “I think we’d eat anything right now. Let’s go.”
“Hard Rock it is.”
Now we moved with purpose.
“Could you believe the roar of the crowd?” Danny asked as he fell in beside us.
“Right? That was five times larger than anything that can fit into Yost,” Alex said. “I didn’t expect the sound to be so resonant.”
“And it’s different when you’re on the field,” Danny continued. “I went to the Classic when it was at Wrigley. There were a lot more people there, but it seemed louder here.”
“Oh cool, you’ve been to a Classic,” I said.
“Yeah. I wasn’t gonna miss it that close to home. We had crap seats, but it was still one of the best games I’ve ever been to. You didn’t go when it was in Pittsburgh?”
“No one else in my family wanted to go, and the tickets were too expensive for me to do it on my own. I’m psyched for this year, though.”
“Me, too,” Alex said. “It’s the first year it’s been close to me.”
“I’m glad we can just walk to the stadium,” Danny said. “No traffic, no fuss. Just like for football games.”
The entire team was going to the game, along with the staff, friends and family. We got a group deal on decent seats. It would be spectacular to watch hockey with over a hundred thousand other people.
“Can you imagine what the Big House crowd would sound like from the ice?” Danny said.
“Hopefully you’ll find out,” I said. Danny was one of the Wolverines that hoped to go pro after college. “And we’ll be there to watch.”
As we walked along Woodward Avenue, Danny, Alex, and I, along with another freshman friend, Trent, discussed the game, dissecting various plays and where we should’ve executed better. We also sprinkled in chatter about tomorrow afternoon’s consolation game against Michigan State. Hopefully we’d come out of that with third place overall.
I clutched Alex’s hand extra tight as I caught sight of an explosion of sparkly Christmas lights. It looked like the street dead-ended right into it. It was that breathtaking and I couldn’t hold back a gasp.
“What?” Alex asked, interrupting Danny’s game commentary.
“Look.” I pointed at the lights ahead.
“Uh-oh, I think someone has fallen into some Christmas wonder,” Trent said.
“You know Christmas is over, right?” Danny added. “That’s just waiting to be taken down.”
“Who cares, it’s pretty!” I said, not letting them douse my enthusiasm. “Can we be late to dinner and go see?”
I looked to Alex with a big grin and a wide-eyed look of please-do-this. He had a similar face that he used occasionally. Neither of us could resist when it was put out there.
“I’ve got no choice here guys,” Alex said to Danny and Trent. “Besides, he’s right, it’s pretty spectacular.”
“Fine, go off on your own,” Danny said, sarcastically. “We’ll save you a couple seats. Depending on how long you take, we may still be waiting for tables. I can’t imagine they’re going to have immediate space for us.”
We reached the intersection and realized the lights were coming from a park. There were lots of smaller trees brightly lit, and a skating rink at the base of a huge decorated tree. I’d never seen anything like it, except on TV. It was Christmas on steroids. I loved it.
“See you in a few,” Alex said while I focused on the lights.
“You’re right,” Trent said, “we won’t get seats quick. We could che
ck it—”
“We’ll catch up with you when you’re done,” Danny said, cutting off Trent. The team had rounded the corner and I saw the Hard Rock’s sign from where we stood. Danny grabbed Trent by the arm and lead him off.
“Glad Danny had the good sense not to come along,” Alex said, watching them leave as we waited for the light to cross the street.
The park, Campus Martius Park according to the sign at the entrance, was wondrous. Every possible surface was covered in lights.
Alex thought I’d gone light crazy in our room since I’d strung up small colored lights around the window, along the shelves of our bookcase, around the door frames and even criss-crossing our ceiling. I was a sucker for Christmas lights. It was the first time I’d decorated away from home, and he gave me permission to do whatever I wanted.
“Can you imagine what this would look like if it was snowing?” I said.
“If it was snowing, you might explode from the whimsicalness of it all.”
We walked and looked at the booths that were still selling gifts, many with clearance signs indicating that New Year’s Eve was the last day they’d be here. Alex stopped at one that served hot chocolate. It was, no doubt, the clear, glass vat of dark chocolate churning behind the counter that grabbed his attention.
“This one’s on me,” I said as I stepped to the counter. “Two mediums, with whipped cream, and cookies, too, one chocolate chip and one peanut butter.”
“Just look at it.” Mesmerized, Alex watched the chocolate being ladled into the cups. “It’s so thick. I’ve never had hot