7. Oscar
Chapter 7
Oscar
Me: Did you get the seats I kept for you?
Nadia: Yes and thanks. I’m waiting for you to show me what you can do.
I smile as I type another message.
Me: Is your grandfather still doing well?
Nadia: Yes. He’s great and organizing everyone again. Mom told me about your mom and dad—sorry.
I clear my throat and glance around the locker room. I’m surprised my parents splitting up is now common knowledge.
Coach strides up and down in front of us, letting us know how he wants us the play the game. When he turns his back, I type.
Me: It sucks. Speak to you after the game.
I throw my cell in my locker and pull my sweater over my armor as the rest of the team makes their way out of the room
“Keep it tight!” Coach yells after the players who are already out of the room. “Don’t let them break you down.”
While Coach talks about the game and how it should be played, my mind wonders to Dominic Logan, the famous actor, and I still can’t help but wonder how I never knew he and Nadia had dated for two years.
“Oscar!” Connor yells. “Come on.”
I make my way through the tunnel, glancing to the seats near to the front that I reserved for Nadia. When I see her, I rush to her and kiss her on the lips.
The audience goes wild, clapping and cheering, and I realize the kiss is frozen on the jumbotron.
“Wish me luck,” I say.
She smiles. “Do you need it?”
“Not on the ice,” I say. Our eyes lock for a moment. “But with you, I feel I need lots.”
“Good luck,” she answers. “Get on the ice. Show me what you can do.”
I laugh and minutes later; I skate onto the ice, the sound of my blades slicing through the ice.
The cold bites at my exposed skin as I make my way to the rest of my team and wait for the puck to drop. Adrenaline courses through my veins when it does, and before I know it, the game is in full swing.
I skate forward, flicking the puck to Connor. He slides away before he fires to Reynolds, who skates around the net and passes to Nate. Nate turns on the ice, like a graceful ice-dancer. He flicks his stick—it’s a goal.
The crowd goes wild.
As I skate backward, I catch a glimpse of Nadia. She’s wearing glasses with a dark rim and her hair is in a high ponytail, just like she used to when we were kids. She’s not only the perfect top model with flawless hair and makeup - she’s the girl I remember, my childhood best friend.
A small smile tugs at the corner of my lips when she grins. The mere sight of her makes my body to buzz. The extra energy zips through my veins as fast as my feet on the ice.
The spirit in the arena intensifies, and the crowd is noisy when the other side slams the puck into the net.
Coach screams when we’re back in play.
Players glide across the ice at lightning-fast speed. Others play dirty, knocking into each other with deafening force.
Sticks snap.
The crowd rumbles.
I skate fast as the puck passes through our team—I need to score.
I keep my eyes on the puck, sliding in and out players as I skate forward, positioning myself, ready to take the next pass.
“Oscar!” Nate yells.
The puck blasts towards me at lightning-fast speed, and I hook it with my stick, expertly maneuvering it towards the goal. I spin on my skates, my body moving in perfect synchronization with my stick, and unleash a powerful shot that sends the puck flying into the back of the net.
The crowd goes wild, cheering from the sidelines, when the puck finds the net again.
Nate slaps me on my back.
We’re winning, and our coach is happy. He gives me a nod, and mouths. “Nice work.” The game continues in full force.
They score again.
We match with a goal of our own.
Their men are struggling to keep us out of their zone.
“Get your heads together,” their coach barks at his team, his arm gesturing for them to get to the other side of the arena.
But as the buzzer sounds, the opposing team looks dejected, and we know they’ll be coming back harder in the next period if they want to remain in contention for the championship.
Our coach, watching from the sidelines, gives a proud nod of approval as our team exchange congratulatory slaps on the back as we skate off the ice to the cheering crowd.
First period and we’re winning.
The press room is jam-packed when I stroll inside. I had to see Nadia to organize our date before I went inside.
Journalists are already questioning the players about their performance in the game as I make my way to the table set up at the front of the press conference room.
Cameras flash.
I don’t turn to them. This is part of the game, but one I’ve never gotten used to. Some players love the limelight. I’m not one of them. I’m good with fans, but not with the press.
My father owns a sex club and many scandals have followed him because of it. I’ve learned not to get involved, and the reason I was so annoyed that a paparazzo found out I was in the restaurant with Nadia, and ruined our date.
I take my seat on the other side of Connor and take a sip of the bottle of water left on the table for me.
“Jaxon Polson, there is the rumor of you transferring to Chicago at the end of the seas. Is this correct?” the reporter asks. Jaxon plays for the opposing team, so while he’s answering I take out my cell, rest it on my lap while send a text to Nadia.
Me: I’ll be fifteen minutes. Dinner? In or out?
The coach for the team answers. “No, Jaxon is staying.”
Nadia: In. You looked so hot on the ice that dinner will be dessert.
Me: I turned you on?
Nadia: *sends an emoji with its tongue hanging out.*
I laugh lightly, but quickly clear my throat when I hear my name, and get ready to answer about the goals I made tonight.
“Oscar…” The male reporter starts as he picks up a magazine and walks to the table we’re at. He turns my way. “Is it right that you and model Nadia Simmons had a dinner date a few days ago?”
Gasps and chatter slowly fill the room as camera lights flash over and over.
“My private life is personal.”
The reporter smiles as he holds a magazine article in the air. I’m expecting a picture of us at the table, drinking Champagne, taken the night in the restaurant to be shown, but my heart drops when he says, “Do you know Dominic Logan has professed his love for her?”
As my apprehension builds, I tilt my head back, my gaze sweeping the ornate ceiling above. I take a deep breath.
Does she want him?
I should’ve asked more questions. Because I don’t know what’s going to happen next with Nadia, but I do know I must remain calm.
There’s an eerie silence taking over the room as everyone waits for my response.
“Ignore it,” Connor whispers as people hush behind their hands.
I feel my heart has stopped.
I glance ahead, my eyes locking with the reporter, who is holding a magazine article in the air. My gaze shifts to the front page of the magazine. My heart sinking when I recognize the perfect face of actor Dominic Logan staring back at me. Despite Connor’s whispered instruction to ignore it, I find myself unable to tear my eyes away from the image, feeling a surge of emotions that I cannot quite put into words.
As the bright flash of a camera illuminates the room, I realize that the situation between Nadia and Dominic has thrust my life into the limelight. The media frenzy surrounding me is palpable.
The weight of the world is heavy on my shoulders. All I want right now is the safety and privacy of my home.
As I stand silently, my coach takes the microphone and addresses the journalists. His voice resonating through the room.
At the exit doors, I turn as the coach speaks.
“This press conference is over. I am sick of my players’ personal lives being a major topic of conversation. We have press conferences to talk about the game, not the players’ personal lives, and certainly not to stir up shit. Thank you for coming. Hopefully next time you’ll find your manners.”
As he finishes his speech, I turn to leave, my coach giving me a nod of approval before I make my way out of the conference center.