Angie
* * *
For the last week, I’ve dedicated an hour to working out after my shifts.
I’ve gone every night after work, and I even went on Saturday because I have no life outside of work and school. While I’m late tonight since I went to the café to finish a paper, I feel like a rock star for going, and I’m extremely proud of myself. I’m making time for me, and while I’m sore from my toes to my eyebrows, I am committed to keeping this going. It wasn’t Leroy’s comments or even the fact that I don’t think I can see my parents until I’m a smaller size, but rather, I want to look good enough for someone like Owen Adler to want to stare at. I am well aware that is not a reason to lose weight, that I need to do it for me. I hear this in therapy daily, but if I’m honest, he’s the reason.
Because as pathetic and disgusting as it is, I can’t stop thinking about him.
I was so proud of Evan for opening up and telling Owen what he’s been struggling with. While it sucks it ended the way it did, it was in Evan’s best interest. In no way do I think he is suicidal, but without the proper help and the right environment, unfortunately, he could turn to that, or even to drugs or alcohol. My goal is to stop addiction in athletes. I know this isn’t the outcome for Evan that the Adler family wanted, but I helped save him from a hole he might not have been able to get out of.
I’m so stoked about assisting him with that, but I can’t enjoy it because my thoughts are flooded with everything Owen. While I was completely taken by his unbelievable gorgeousness, it is actually the fact that he was so damn supportive that keeps me up at night. So protective and, ugh, it was so hot. I assumed he would be a jackass, try to talk Evan out of leaving. I was actually fully expecting him to do that, but that wasn’t the case. He listened, he was attentive, and he openly told his brother how much he loved him and how proud he was of him.
It was beautiful.
Which is why I can’t stop thinking of him.
I always thought of him as such a jackass, someone so obsessed with himself that he wouldn’t have the mental capacity to care for anyone else. It’s no secret that Owen got around in high school. He never kept a girlfriend. Never. Our private school was not small, yet Owen was always the topic of conversation.
If you wanted a relationship, you got with Evan. If you wanted to fuck, you got with Owen.
It was common knowledge, and I decided no matter how hot I thought Owen was, I wasn’t going to waste my time or my heart on someone who had the emotional range of a pea. That decision made me keep my distance, and my attraction to him made me dislike him greatly. Now, though, after watching him with Evan, I realize I was wrong. A very displeasing realization, to be honest.
As I walk on the treadmill at an incline, I watch the TVs above me to keep me going. I lifted weights for thirty minutes after finding a beginner’s guide to weight lifting online. Figured I’d give it a go, and I actually like it. Reminds me of when we would lift for hockey when I was younger. Or maybe I just enjoy the IceCats’ gym. It’s a pretty badass gym with all kinds of machines and equipment. It even has a lap pool, a sauna, and an ice bath area—though, I won’t touch the latter. Best part is, when I come to the gym, it’s usually dead. Either the players have games or they’re done for the day. Tonight, no one is here because of the game they had.
It’s only me, my thoughts, the equipment, and my desire to get skinny.
Until Owen Adler is on the TV above me.
I bring my brows together as I watch him, visibly exasperated, on the screen. It’s a postgame press conference, and he’s all sweaty and annoyingly yummy-looking.
“Adler, how has it been without your brother on the ice?”
Oh no.
Owen sits up in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “I mean, I don’t know what you want me to say. It sucks. I miss him, but I fully support Evan’s choice.”
Another reporter stands up. “How do you feel about the support Evan has received?”
Oh, Owen is about to blow. “Obviously, I’m thankful. It was a huge deal for him to choose his mental health over his love of the game.”
“With him being the IceCats’ ambassador for mental health, shouldn’t he have recognized his issues before he stepped onto the ice?”
I grimace. So apparently, that reporter wants to die. With a level of composure I really didn’t see him having, Owen leans forward toward the mic. “He did, but he tried to push past them to play the game he loved. Even knowing his struggles, he still played, and he still raised awareness. I know it’s being said he’s a quitter and all kinds of other bullshit, but I find him to be a hero. He wants to bring awareness within the NHL for all players, and yet, he was fighting his own brain. That’s impressive to me. That makes me proud.”
I start clapping my hands. “Yes, Owen. Yes.”
Another reporter stands. “There is talk of you taking on his role as the mental health ambassador for the IceCats. Is that true?”
Oh. Oh wow.
“Yes,” Owen says then, his shoulders back, looking so damn confident. “While I don’t suffer from anxiety or depression or even addiction, I don’t want anyone to ever go through what my brother has gone through. There is such pressure for males to be stronger than our mental health. To push through and not admit when we need help. Listen, it’s scary and I struggle when I need help, but my brother’s bravery only proved that I need to take a page from his book and take care of me. I want the same for my teammates and all the players in the league. It’s okay not to be okay, and that is what needs to be normalized.”
Pretty sure I just came.
Change the lyrics from “Talk Dirty” to “Talk Mental Health,” and I’m here for it.
With that, Owen clears his throat. “I am very much still processing playing without my brother for the first time in my life, so unless someone has a hockey-related question, I’m out.”
When someone tries to say something about Evan once more, Owen gets up and leaves. I watch as the questions are directed to the other players, and like Owen, they’re fully supportive of Evan, which is absolutely inspiring. I wish the whole world would be like this, supportive and ready to break the stigma of mental illness. I don’t think Evan knows how much he has done for this sport and the mental health initiative the IceCats are trying to push throughout the NHL.
I carry on with my workout, but like he has been, Owen plays in my thoughts. I want nothing more than to give him a huge hug. Thank him for speaking out and tell him how proud I am. How lucky Evan is to have him. How I think he is super sexy and I wouldn’t mind rolling around in his sheets.
Jesus.
I wish I wouldn’t do this to myself. It’s obvious that nothing will ever happen between us. I don’t see him on the regular, nor do I hang in his circle. I’m a busy college student, while he’s following right in his daddy’s big ole footsteps. That thought kind of makes me want to watch a game, but I haven’t watched a hockey game since my dad retired.
But that isn’t even the biggest factor. You don’t see hockey players with thick girls. It’s always supermodels from Sweden or Norway. Blondes with gorgeous lips and perky boobs. Some players may be attracted to thicker girls, but I know good and well Owen wouldn’t be attracted to me. He wasn’t when I was skinny, and he sure as hell wouldn’t be now.