I'm not sure why I am so bothered Francesca hasn't answered my last 4 texts, but I am. I read them over again to make sure I didn't say anything wrong that could have upset her. I know she's super busy lately but it is 10 minutes until our ice time starts which means she should be walking here by now and able to answer. When the front door opens I perk up. That has to be her.

"Hey Beck," I call out when she walks in through the lobby.

She doesn't respond and instead drops her stuff while continuing to march straight for me. Before I can ask her what's wrong she swings and connects somewhat painfully with my chest. "When were you going to tell me Carson!"

"Tell you what?" I anxiously rack my brain for a secret I might have kept from her recently. Something about the prank war maybe that I knew about and didn't warn her about? We have been trying to warn each other about pranks lately.

"You. The Islanders. You're in the NHL Carson! How did that never come up in conversation!"

My face pales. I don't tell people about that for a reason. The day I got drafted was the only time my parents acted like actual parents my entire life. They were proud, proud of me, but in reality they were just using me. The Islanders jersey I got on draft night, they basically ripped off of me to hang in the living room so everyone who came over could see it. The pictures they took with me that night were merely for social media and Christmas cards. None of it was real. When you get drafted to be a professional athlete the way people treat you changes and I learned that within minutes when I went from burden to prized possession with my parents. That night was the first time I thought about quitting hockey. A part of me, a big part of me somedays, never wants to play in the NHL just to spite them.

"How did you find out?"

"My brothers! I called them to tell them all the stuff you did and they freaked out."

"Can you just pretend this never happened? That you never found out?"

"Why? This is so cool Ryder."

"Beck please," I snap. I start adjusting my hat over and over, my biggest tell that I am upset.

"I'm sorry," she says, stunned a little. I feel bad but I am not in the mood to talk about this anymore so I just put on my skates, get on the ice, and begin my warmups.

I don't look over but I hear her get on the ice and begin skating as well. A few minutes later her music begins playing softly just loud enough she can hear it. I attempt to focus on my skating but memories of draft night keep playing in my head.

"With the 14th overall pick in the NHL draft the New York Islanders pick Carson Ryder." For a moment my brain is too slow to process that my name was the name just said. Me? drafted by the Islanders? My parents are embracing next to me and I think that puts a bigger smile on my face than anything else. I am 19 and still stupid enough to believe their act.

I get up and walk to the stage shaking hands with people I have looked up to since I was a kid. Cameras are being shoved in my face as I am handed a jersey with my name embroidered on the back, my first NHL jersey. Physical proof that all my hard work meant something.

After a short thank you speech, more hand skating, and a few more photos, I move off stage. Quickly journalists from all the major sports networks swarm me. My parents appear flanking me on either side, my mom gripping my arm with a proud smile and my dad wearing an Islanders hat while his hand rests on my shoulder. I feel on top of the world, but it's short lived.

As the questions begin, so do my parents' lies. The lies about bringing me to practice as a kid, never missing a game, about our strong family unit. All fucking lies. My cheeks hurt and my lungs burn as I try to not let my smile falter and attempt to keep up with my parents never ending lies. By the time we leave my mom is telling me to take the jersey off because it is hers after all those years of lugging me to the fucking rink and my dad is tossing his hat on the floor of the car like trash. They fight the entire ride home about who deserves more credit for my accomplishments, ironically I am not even on the list.

By the time we get home I go straight to my room and pack. I decided for the rest of the summer I am going to stay at hockey house instead of staying here. Draft night was the last time I willingly did something with my parents. Now I only see them when absolutely necessary so they don't cut off paying my rent and car.

I stop skating and get off the ice. There are still 20 minutes left but I don't want to skate or think about hockey or even be near the ice at the moment. A small part of me thinks it's cool that Francesca's family follows my accomplishments and cares but then I remember it is only because they care about their team. They don't personally care about me, they care about what I can do for the Islanders.

"Carson?" The small timid voice behind me breaks me from my pity party, I refuse to take my issues out on Francesca. I refuse to be him.

"I'm sorry for snapping, I just don't like talking about the draft. It wasn't a good night for me."

She looks me over for a second, accessing me before nodding. "What draft? Are we going to war? Am I also going to be drafted too?"

I laugh at her lame attempt to change the subject and pretend the NHL draft was never mentioned. She laughs with me and we both sit to take our skates off. I watch her steal glances at me with genuine concern for me on her face. The news has not changed us or how she looks at me and I let out a sigh of relief.

"Can I ask one question?"

"Ask away Beck." I know it is about the draft but I let her ask anyway.

"Why are you here and not on the team?"

"The NHL likes to draft college kids and let them develop here where they don't have to pay them instead of pulling people to the development team. Some guys get called up before they're done with their college career and go, others get called up and decline so they can graduate. Some guys graduate and stay on the team they were drafted to, others graduate and become free agents."

"Interesting. Does the NHL make it a habit of drafting absolute fucking cheeseballs?"

And just like that the conversation about me being drafted ends and her relentless teasing me returns. To most I am Carson Ryder, future NHL star. To Beck I am Carson Ryder, the annoying hockey player who she steals rats with and bums rides from. I like being that guy to Beck, I hope that I can remain that guy for her.

Francesca doesn't need a ride today because her and her roommates are going food shopping to prepare for her brothers' arrival tomorrow, so I decide to go talk to Josh before I head out. I find him in one of the locker rooms fixing a light. As soon as I walk in the locker room the musty sweaty smell reminds me of one of the reasons Francesca hated hockey players when we first met.

"Hey, heard you really spoiled the twins for their visit this weekend."

"It was nothing," I brush off. I mean it wasn't nothing, I had to really beg Coach to get them on the ice with us and I am going to have to be the house maid for the next 5 days in exchange for throwing a party but it's worth it. Honestly after seeing the smile on Francescas face the last two days I would do anything to see it a little more.

"You two are getting close," Barb says but there is something behind it that catches my attention.

"Meaning?"

"It's just an observation, nothing more."

I don't really believe her but I don't push because I am still processing the fact Francesca now knows I was drafted to the Islanders. I almost told her when I saw the picture in her room of her and her family at a game but I panicked. Shit, I am still panicking now. What if she looks up videos from that night? Interviews of my parents lying and me standing there awkwardly. Most people will think I was just overwhelmed but she will see right through me if she watches those videos; and then she will ask questions. Questions about me, about them, about everything. Things she will never understand. She has a happy loving family who can't give her everything but would if they could. She could never understand my family and why I hate them even though they give me everything.

"You seem distracted, what's wrong?" Josh steps off his ladder and walks over to me. He is a few inches shorter than me but lifetimes wiser. They know about draft night because they overheard my mom screaming at me on the phone a few days after when I returned to school.

"She found out I was drafted and started asking questions."

"Did you tell her?"

"No, I just said I don't like talking about it. But now I can't stop thinking about it. The team called you know, they asked if I wanted to join them for summer training."

"Did you give them an answer yet?"

"No, I said I would have to figure some stuff out like where I would stay for the summer, you know since I can't get paid by them while I am still in college."

"Francesca lives in New York," Barb says with a sweet innocent smile, though her comment is anything but.

"Good for her but we just became friends like a month ago, I can't ask that of her and her family."

"I think her Islander loving family would be honored but the season is far from over so you don't need to make any decisions today. Team is doing well this year, but I heard a few guys are looking to retire soon."

"Heard the same." I am not in the mood to talk about hockey anymore so Josh just points to the light and I hop on the ladder to help.

Barb and Josh lost their son years ago when he was about 14 and I can't help to think how cruel it is that they don't have their son when clearly they're amazing people and parents but my parents have me and they can't even be bothered. It is like some sick joke the universe is playing.

I help Josh with a few more things and Barb brings me a hot chocolate before I leave. When I get home I decide to exercise the rats since Francesca is so worried that I am going to make them 'thick bitches' like little Penelope. I send her a few pictures and videos of them playing on my bed and my remaining tension from earlier today melts as she answers.

Beck: Oh My Geez! The ladies are so cute! Look at little Elle in your hat! God I miss them I haven't seen them since Monday! Might stop by tomorrow morning before class just to see them. I miss them so much!!

I know I am foolish to get my hopes up but I let myself for a second picture what fun a summer in New York could be. Just me, Francesca, and the rats.