Sasquatch to the Moon

6: MVP

"Thanks," he shakes my hand, hair slicked back from water, highlighting his high cheekbones and slight smile. I would've taken it for a haughty little smirk a week ago but I guess not.

"Sorry about that," I try, quiet so only he can really hear. "It's been weird for me."

"What, admitting that or in general?"

"In general," I hand him the hat, fully uncomfortable with the situation now. "You played good."

"Good enough?" He's looking for my approval, for some reason. Of anyone, I should not be the one he wants it from.

"Good enough." I confirm.

"Damn, now I have to keep this up to keep you happy, huh?"

I chew the dead skin on my bottom lip, looking at him, trying to process him, most of him, at least. "If you'd like."

He elbows my side, "you're fun."

I fight the urge to roll my eyes, "go finish changing. We'll see."

"Bitchy, but fun," he gives me a wink and then hops back over toward Steph.

"Um, Rocket," I call after him. 

He turns, eyes up, confused. 

"Speech, you're supposed to say something," Steph laughs, explaining. "He's saying that you need to say something, like when people win MVP, or POG, or any of that. You gotta say something." 

Rocket's eyebrows shoot up, "oh shit, I forgot, oh my God," he looks at the cubby and then puts one foot up on it, standing up tall and getting everyone's attention again, "hi, sorry, this is my first time getting player of the game, like, ever, so, thank you, Yeti, and the rest of you, it was a really good night for me, not sure why, but wicked good, other than that, keep it up, keep going, keep playing and we've got a hell of a season ahead of us so I say fuck yeah!" 

The team laughs and gives him a pretty hearty 'fuck yeah' in return. I'm pretty much lost, watching him smile and hang off his cubby, wondering why on Earth this is his first ever. I thought most teams made sure to give their guys each at least once a season with MVP or the like. 

The fact that that's his first probably explains the overexcited grin and the flush to his cheeks and chest and how quick he's breathing, giggling and poking fun at Steph and Hiro. 

I settle back down at my booth and get Fen in my personal space without a single second to breathe.

"That was good," he kicks his knee into mine, "good job."

"Um, thanks."

Fen nods, hair wet and falling into his eyes, "way to be a good teammate and admit to shit. I told you, he's a good guy. Maybe someone you'd like to be around."

I actually roll my eyes this time, "get outta my face with that," I push him away with a hand on his shoulder. "I just apologized. I didn't agree to anything else."

"We'll see," Fen is giving me the 'I'm planning something' look that he shares almost identically with his girlfriend. Spoiler alert, he picked it up off her and when they're making it together the team is about to get power-coupled into doing four mile repeats.

I let my eyes drift back over to Rocket as I untie my skates.

He's doing something big with his hands over at Steph, Hiro and Milan listening in. Over half his gear is off now, leaving just his skinny body in his massive goalie pants, an unexpected tan on him, now that he's in direct comparison to Steph. It's silky and bronze all over him but when he drops all of his pads, leaving nothing but compression shorts underneath, a big laugh echoing out of his throat as he does it, I see a line where his thigh goes from amber to pale.

He kicks his pads off and reaches up for his shorts on the upper shelf in his cubby, long limbs spread out to let anyone see. He's six foot three and if he were a girl, people would rave about his legs. People might rave about his legs anyway, I wouldn't know, I don't really follow him anywhere.

He pulls them up around his hips, happily leaving a little gap to show everyone the line of his compression shorts over the top of the elastic of his gym shorts. His smile is huge, hand reaching over to smack Steph upside the head.

I turn back to my own gear, pulling off my compression shirt and hanging it up in my cubby, ignoring another rolling laugh from his half of the locker room.

His smile splits his face in a crooked and devilish way, a dimple rising by his eye, a softened posture in his shoulders that lightens up the whole room.

I look back up from my gear at him, goofy grin throwing around a balled up t-shirt, his balled up t-shirt. His chest is bare and glistening with sweat, a laugh echoing back and forth with Steph.

I watch him like he's some sort of weird zoo exhibit, joyful and full of life and on display, but I know that if I stepped across that line, he'd kill me.

He'd suffocate what little of me I have. There's... too much. Too many colors, too much laughter, he'd drown me.

I'd be like a speck on the edge of his personality and he'd be the sun to me.

Better leaving it where it lies than trying to throw myself into it for a moment of warmth. 

***

you say that you all know me

but do you really know me?

see below - the ghost club

(behind the editing, i feel as though this is roughly what rocket might sound like)

***

*me pushing them together* "now make up for all that i made you do in the first chapter, it was an accident"

-rabid