3. Rae
Rae
Asher doesn’t look like how I remember. His attitude, on the other hand, is exactly how I remember. Maybe even worse.
Physically, I could see how massive he got even underneath the hoodie he was wearing.
The fabric strained around his arms. His dark hair is short on the sides and longer on the top.
He had a piece falling onto his forehead I wanted to push back but resisted.
His hazel eyes looked so intense when all his focus was on me.
It’s like he wasn’t just looking, he was seeing more than just what is on the surface.
But he doesn’t let anyone see anything below the surface with him. He’s the most closed off person I’ve ever met, and that doesn’t seem to have changed much.
My phone starts to ring in my hand, and I look down to see Grayson’s name. I speed walk back to my dressing room to answer, “Hey.”
“Hi Sunshine, how was your show?” Grayson’s cheerful voice greets me.
“Amazing.” I slump in a chair, my feet screaming at me. “What did you do tonight? Stare at yourself in the mirror?”
“Hah. Hilarious. That’s more Easton’s nightly routine, not mine.”
I smirk because that’s definitely true. Even though they look alike, they act completely different. Easton has always been the showy one. He loves attention and for everyone to have their eyes on him.
Grayson is much quieter; even when he plays hockey he isn’t over the top with showboating or causing fights.
I used to joke with him that he was in the wrong sport because he’s so opposite of all the hockey players we’ve met.
Including his dad who is one of the most notorious troublemakers of the Denver Dragons.
“My bad,” I joke. “You know I have a hard time telling you both apart.”
“You’re on one tonight. Are you sure you’re not a comedian?” he deadpans.
“Should I? Maybe I’ll change my career path.”
“No, you’re a much better singer.”
I chuckle. “You’re right. Oh, guess who I ran into?”
“Who?”
“Asher.”
“Hudson? Really? What was he doing there?”
I pluck at my shirt. I should really change because I can feel the sweat sticking to me and I desperately need a shower. And a bed.
“I guess he has a fight here. Have you talked to him at all over the years?”
“Nope. Pretty sure he doesn’t like any of us.”
I hum because I don’t know if that’s necessarily true, but he certainly isn’t friendly.
“Anyway, are you excited to be back home soon?” he asks, lightening the mood like he always does. He may call me Sunshine, but I know that whenever I’m having a bad day, I can always count on my best friend to cheer me up.
“Yeah, that way I can go to all your hockey games and tell you what you need to work on just like old times,” I tease.
“Oh yeah, I’ve missed having my extra coach.”
I know hockey relatively well, I understand the game, the positions, the penalties and all that. I wouldn’t consider my knowledge professional by any means, but it has never stopped me from giving the guys shit after a game.
My tour ends right before hockey season is about to start, just like my mom used to do so she could spend the hockey season with us while my dad would travel, and we would go to as many games as possible.
My last show is in Denver because then I’m home.
I love getting to spend the winter and holidays at home, it reminds me of my childhood.
All of us are all over the place throughout the year between our careers, but it’s the one time we get to all be together again. Just like it used to be. Even when we go to the cabin near Vail for the holidays, we get to all be together.
“Get ready, I’ll have a whole clipboard full of notes for you after each game,” I tell him with a smile.
“Can’t wait.” I can hear his own smile back.
We hang up so I can change and head to the hotel before leaving in the morning. I think about seeing if I can stay just a little longer, maybe try and have an actual conversation with Asher, but I decide against it. I don’t see the point; if he wanted to reach out over the years he could have.
One thing I can’t help but think about is why he chose to come here. He didn’t have to, and there must have been a reason. My mind is too exhausted as the adrenaline high starts to fade. I pull myself together enough to change and get in the car to go to the hotel for the night.
In the hotel room I want to collapse on the bed, but manage to take a quick shower first. I’m pretty sure I doze off while standing as the hot water hits my skin.
Somehow, I’m able to drag myself out of the shower and throw on a T-shirt before falling into the bed where sleep takes over immediately.
The next day, Grayson has a matinee game, so I’m able to watch while traveling to Los Angeles.
It’s a preseason game, but that doesn’t take away the intensity.
I hardly notice I’m biting my thumbnail while cradling my tablet with the game playing until my manager, Becca, knocks my hand away from my mouth.
I glare at her, and she just shakes her head at me, but doesn’t bother speaking since I have my headphones on and she knows I won’t be able to hear her anyway.
Huffing, I focus back on the game right as there’s a line change, and I catch Grayson hopping onto the ice, getting into position as a defenseman, skating backwards while the opposing team skates toward the Dragon’s net.
The Dragon’s goalie is ready for the shot poised to come his way, but the defense tries to get the puck away before they can shoot it anyway. They interfere a pass and end up taking the puck down the ice to the opposite side of the rink.
They shoot, but the goalie ends up stopping the puck, and the play is called to end. I sigh as the feed goes to commercial and think about seeing Asher yesterday. For a split second I wonder if his fight may be available to watch.
Suddenly I’m switching over to search his name, something I haven’t even thought to do before now.
Asher Hudson brings up several results, most of them are articles on fights, video highlights, and a website that I click on that leads to a gym called Uncaged.
It’s in Seaside, Oregon. There are some pictures that look like they were taken at the gym, and Asher is in them but he’s never looking at the camera.
He’s focused with his hands wrapped and looks to be punching a bag.
“What’re you looking at?” Becca asks, leaning over to look at my screen.
I jump, knocking my headphones off my head since I wasn’t listening to anything right now anyway.
“Nothing.” I swipe away from the website and pull up the hockey game that’s back on.
“I heard you had a visitor last night, and it obviously wasn’t Grayson,” she comments.
“Yeah, just an old friend I haven’t seen in years.” I shrug, trying to focus back on the game, but it’s a lot of back and forth right now while the teams compete for possession of the puck.
“An actual friend or a Grayson type of friend?” she hedges.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Come on, Rae. Everyone knows that man is head over heels for you. And you’re pretty obvious yourself.”
I sink lower in the plane seat, pulling my tablet closer to my face to try and hide my blush. One thing about being a redhead is that my face flames so easily. I hate it because it makes it very difficult to hide any and all embarrassment.
“Yeah, we can just go ahead and refer to a bunch of your songs. If you want me to reference some of your lyrics I can—”
“No!” I exclaim. “I just write stories in my music, they don’t necessarily mean anything.”
“Right, so you’re telling me you’ve never written a song about him?”
I scrunch my mouth tightly, shaking my head and make a humming noise.
Becca chuckles. “You’re such a bad liar, but okay, whatever you say.”
I’ll never say any of my songs are about Grayson.
Did he inspire some of them? Possibly, but I won’t admit it.
Lots of things and people in my life have inspired songs.
We’re just friends and that’s how it should stay because if it didn’t work out then I would lose him.
And I’d rather have him as a friend than not have him at all.
Even if the thought of him ending up with someone else has my heart hurting in my chest.
The camera filming the game pans over to the bench where I see him leaning against the boards and can feel the small smile on my face at the sight of him.
His dirty blonde hair peaks out under his helmet.
His green eyes aren’t looking directly at the camera, but I have them memorized.
He doesn’t wear his glasses while he plays, but I love seeing him relax with the wire rims resting on his nose.
My oldest friend, and the one person I don’t think I could live without. While the idea of being more is appealing, I know Grayson Wheeler and I will forever need to remain friends.