“Push yourself, Kevin. You can't get back fast enough, you'll get better at that.”

Kevin was sweating as he pushed himself back from the board to skate backwards across the ice again, avoiding CJ. He kept his eyes sweeping back and forth as if to check for pucks.

Cam had been right, goddamn it. Kevin had to move faster backwards if he wanted to have any offensive depth. He was still too defensive to make the really ballsy passes that he'd have to make if he made the first line someday.

But that was why he'd hired Glenn, one of the top private trainers in the city. The gap in knowledge and skill level between his university level and the minor leagues was huge. Now, he was just one step below one of the oldest teams in Canadian hockey league history.

It wasn't a team most guys wanted to play for, but it was one of the closest teams to his hometown back in New Brunswick, at least. He'd be able to get home more often than if he got signed in California or something ridiculous.

“Good!” Glenn called as Kevin reached the starting point again. “Hey, CJ, what do you call that? Go do it again.”

Kevin took a moment to push his hair back, the sweat cooling on his skin under his jersey and practice padding. The cold arena air was what he lived and breathed; he much preferred it to sticky Toronto summers. Being acclimatized to it cost him a fortune, because he had to keep the A/C turned way down. Otherwise, he spent all his time at home lying on his bed or the couch complaining about the heat to his roommate.

Hans ignored most of his complaints. He had a lot of stories about how hot it got in his German hometown. Kevin suspected most of them were bullshit from his rudimentary Google searches, but he never called the guy out on it.

“Damn,” Kevin whistled at the speed of CJ’s rebound. The guy was insanely quick.

“Okay, boys. Your ice time will run out in a couple minutes, so get your asses moving. One more drill to do.”

“Yes, sir,” Kevin saluted with two fingers. He was splitting the ice rental with three other guys Glenn trained. They all wanted a little ice time, and Glenn agreed so he could judge how much they'd improved this month.

Kevin was probably in the best position of all of them. He hadn't played a full season on his university team, and he hadn't been dragged through the playoffs. And compared to the wear and tear of the major leagues, not to mention the stress and pressure, what he'd experienced before was nothing.

He could see the toll it took on everyone: the first couple weeks had been mostly pilates and yoga, stretching and limbering exercises, and a little weight loss for the guys who ate mostly chicken wings after games.

It didn't discourage him, though. As Kevin flicked a puck along his blade and took off down the ice with it, he felt that same familiar thrill run through his body. It didn't matter if he was doing this in front of a packed arena for a game or by himself on a quiet Tuesday afternoon on the lake back home.

He lived for that rush to his fingers and toes and cheeks – the one that said I'm right here, and I'm going for it.

CJ tried to get between him and the empty net, and it partly worked: he flicked his wrist to send the puck into the goal, but it bounced off the crossbar.

Kevin saw his chance, though – he darted around CJ, nestled the puck at the bottom of his blade, and slapped it straight into the net.

“Nice,” CJ approved, punching his arm and circling back to wait for Hemmer's approach.

Kevin took a moment to pump his fist as he shifted to skate backwards towards the net and look for Glenn's reaction. Then he pushed himself away from it again, heading up the side board.

“Watch your weight distribution,” Glenn told him, his arms folded tightly. His eyes were already on Hemmer, who was duking it out with CJ in the neutral zone. “Can't let someone knock you off-balance when you're about to score. I could have hit you with a feather there.”

Frustration welled in Kevin's chest, but he nodded sharply. He hadn't felt solid on his feet, so Glenn was no doubt right. But it felt sometimes like he never won anything fully anymore. Even if he nailed a great move in the few practices and partial games he'd played this month, Glenn always had something else to point out.

But that was life these days. As he and Hemmer rotated in to act as defense while CJ and Fisher practiced, Kevin didn't dwell on it. If he wanted to earn his keep around here, he had to take every bit of critique on board and use it to improve himself. He couldn't let the coach criticize the same thing twice.

In the locker room once their time was up, Kevin's mind was still on that moment. Could he have stepped the other way around CJ? He couldn't very well grab CJ's stick, but he might have knocked it aside – but then he would have missed the rebound...

“Hey, Kev. You're a million miles away.”

Kevin blinked and refocused on the hand obnoxiously snapping in front of his eyes as CJ slapped his arm with the other hand. He elbowed CJ in the gut and laughed, yanking his jersey off. “Sorry, I was replaying. What?”

“We're going out to a bar tonight. Cruising for the ladies,” CJ drawled. He elbowed Kevin back, then sat on the bench to yank off his shin guards. “You in?”

Kevin hedged and threw a careless shrug out there, tossing his shoulder pads into his bag. “I dunno, man. I'm training early tomorrow.” How would he explain that picking up chicks wasn't his idea of a good time without outing himself?

“Come on, you haven't felt the pro effect yet,” Hemmer laughed.

“The what?”

CJ nodded. “When you introduce yourself as a hockey player. It works at any sports bar... or most regular bars. You can't tell me you haven't tried it.” He elbowed Kevin again, but Kevin dodged and shoved him off.

Not with women, that was for sure. Kevin scoffed and zipped up his bag. “Nah, man.”

“Some of us, some Leafs will all be there. A mixed crowd. You gotta get out sometime, man! Even if you're too busy to get laid...”

Kevin laughed. “Okay, fine.”

He rubbed his face, then held out a hand to grip CJ's forearm and clap his back in a quick goodbye. “See you, then. Text me when you're going out.”

“Awesome,” Fisher told him. “We will.”

Hemmer waved. “See you, man.”

“See ya.” Kevin shouldered his bag and took off out of there, gripping the strap tightly. There were two equally huge risks to going out. One was that he'd get distracted by the wrong things when he had to focus so hard on his career this summer. The other...

Kevin remembered what Cam had told him Coach Walker said to him: “Keep your head down until you're ready to be the poster boy.” The first out gay pro league player was going to have a wild ride.

All Kevin wanted to do was play well and go home happy with the game he'd played. Maybe with a guy, but not in front of the cameras. Maybe with a bunch of the guys, just as friends.

In any case, he had to start by making friends.

Tonight's the night.