You’re playing hockey with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves you, but he loves you. And you feel like you’ve done something terrible, like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or shoveled yourself a grave in the dirt, and you’re tired. You’re playing hockey with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he passes you the puck and then you score and he pulls you in and touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you didn’t even have a name for.

You’re playing hockey with a beautiful boy and he won’t tell you that he loves you but he loves you. And you feel like you’ve done something wonderful, like scoring a perfect goal, or dipping your fingers into maple syrup, or pouring yourself into the sunlight of his smile, and you’re so alive. You’re playing hockey with a beautiful boy and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he passes you the puck and then you score and you pull him in and touch him, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root inside your body and for once it doesn't feel like the end of the world.