you're not trying to screw with his routine. you think you should get credit for that. you know better, the annoyed whining @torontosbest does whenever he has to start over is enough for you to never purposefully do it.
keene, ethan starts. you glance up and roll your eyes at the roof. he's not the only superstitious one, pretty much everyone in sports is, you included, but your superstition is normal. this is weird. you judge him a little for it, but not as much as you might have had it not been ethan. it's a long ritual that's so easy for someone to mess up, and is bound to make them both late at some point. maybe tonight if they're unlucky.
ethan keeps stretching his name out. you're treading closer to fond than exasperated. you swallow it down. if ethan sees it, it's only going to give him permission to keep pulling these things. the shushing helps. it pushes you back into annoyance territory. you stare at him, questioning every life choice that brought you here.
"uh-huh." yes, you understand it, you understand that he's nuts, and that you wouldn't have it any other way.
you just nod along at the empty threats. he's being dramatic, but what else is new? yes, ethan you definitely believe you're going to be told on like an unruly toddler to your coach, to your mom, to the hypothetical coaches in the stands. you deserve it for committing the heinous crime of walking into a room at the wrong time. yes, entropy, disorder, bad juju. you'll make sure to personally pay for the sage to make up for the emotional damage you absolutely caused.
you count the taps. one, two, three. everything in thirds. you remember the fit ethan threw when it looked like he might not get the right number for his jersey. the urge to go over there and mess up his laces is so strong, but you know better. you're already never going to hear the end of it for accidentally messing with the ritual. doing it on purpose would be friendship murder. in the end, you settle for sitting down next to him, near enough to knock his shoulder. you're nice enough to knock it three times. the risk with everything you do on a game night is that if you play too well, you're going to end up having to do it every single time. those three knocks could change the course of your pregame ritual.
the offer to go and warm up is fake. they enter the ice one after the other, that's the way it's always been. you're not about to change things now. "if coach is going to get mad he might as well get mad at both of us." it's not like you've ever minded fooling around and making fun of ethan while he finishes up. you wouldn't have been able to be his best friend if you did. as much as you make fun of the rituals, you don't doubt them. you believe they're part of what's going to drive your team to victory.
"i know the rules." it doesn't have to be a spoken one or even an agreed-upon rule. if he sets a rule, you already know it, and god forbid anyone tries to stand in your way when it comes to enforcing it. "one goal for you, and one if coach's mad."
