17. Shay
SHAY
Thank God we won. We needed to take this game so badly. I mean, obviously, it’d be great if we won every game, but Montreal is a good team, and that would be quite a feat to sweep them. But for tonight, we won, and that’s all that matters. We’ll focus on the next game tomorrow.
I watched from the live stream in the staff room, holding my breath until the final second. Cameras from all angles showed their happy reactions, and I even saw a smile on Coach Carrington’s face. Some people might view his lashing out at me as rude, but as a competitor, I get it, truly.
His job is to ensure his players are in top condition to compete—mentally and physically.
My outburst put that at risk. What surprised me was that he let me call him out on his tone.
His message I can forgive, but the accusation in his voice was uncalled for, and he knew that, which is exactly why he let me say my piece.
I have no hard feelings toward him. If anything, I have more respect for him now.
He didn’t double down, and be the “macho” man.
He really listened and apologized. This is the peak of his career.
He’s probably more stressed than he’s ever been.
If there’s anyone on staff that understands the weight he feels, it’s me.
Andy said he was meeting with Carrington for a few minutes, so I decided to just wait for him so we could ride to the hotel together and order some food. But he’s taking forever, and I’m starving.
My phone vibrates, and relief washes over me. Finally, we can get out of here. But it’s not Andy.
Matt: Andy and Carrington left for dinner. They wanted us and Huang to join ASAP. Do you want to ride together? Huang rode with them.
Andy, what the hell? You could have least given me a heads-up.
Yeah. I’ll meet you outside the locker room in a second. Thanks.
At least I’ll get a freshly cooked meal out of this and not have to eat takeout on my hotel bed. Although, sometimes, I swear, after an exhausting day, it tastes better in your pajamas with your hair up and a pillow as your table.
Standing up, I push the chair into the small conference room table and head to meet Matt just a few doors down.
He’s already in the hallway when I exit the room, looking annoyingly good in his suit from earlier.
I’m surprised he didn’t change into sweats, but I guess if we’re going to dinner, he might want to look the part in case anyone takes photos.
There’s a gleam in his eyes when he looks up from his phone that nearly stops me dead in my tracks. God, the way he’s looking at my goddamn soul right now is almost unnerving.
“Ready?” he asks with an oddly enthusiastic smile for a postgame dinner when I’m sure he’s already exhausted. “I’m starving.”
He turns and falls into step beside me as I ask, “Where are we going? And me too.”
I don’t know why I feel so nervous around him right now.
I mean, if I think about it for more than a second, I’m sure I can chalk it up to my breakdown earlier and that I pathetically launched myself into his arms for safety.
That I made it loud and clear to Andy that we have something going on, and that’s probably obviously clear to Carrington now too.
But it’s fine because I’m not even sure I’m ever going to go near the ice again.
“Shay?” Matt whispers, and I pull myself from my thoughts.
“Sorry. What were you saying?” I stutter, finding even new ways to make my skin crawl.
“We’re meeting them at Antonio’s. I guess it’s some kind of—”
My brain finally clicks back in place, and my heart skips a beat. “Wait,” I gasp. “Like, Italian restaurant Antonio’s? That’s my favorite place. Oh! I can’t believe I forgot they have one here.”
When I glance over at Matt, he’s beaming with pride like he picked the place himself. “I’m excited if they’ve earned that level of praise from you.”
I swoon and can practically smell the Alfredo. “It’s so good.”
“I can’t wait,” he murmurs, his hand drifting beside mine, the warmth of his pinkie grazing mine.
Yanking my hand away, I look around, and thankfully, no one’s watching, but, God, that was close. “Matt, be careful.”
He laughs as we step into the elevator and the doors close. I lean against the back wall, and he does the same before rolling to his side and facing me, his body mere inches from mine.
“I don’t think our hands touching will alert the media.”
I scowl at him, fighting the sinking sensation of my heart as I remember that tonight’s freak-out will likely be talked about everywhere by tomorrow, if it isn’t already happening. “You don’t know that.”
He leans forward, and tingles dance down my shoulders as he inhales me. “If you want, we can really give them something to talk about.”
“Oh, yeah?” I challenge him. “I doubt anything could top my performance tonight.” I cross my arms, swallowing hard as his cologne fills my lungs, curling my toes in my boots.
His fingers brush my side. “Hey, don’t do that. Anyone who’s been through what you have would react the same to a dogpile in the crease. It could’ve happened to anyone.”
The words are leaving my lips before I can stop them. “It only happened because it was you.”
“What?” Matt whispers, and suddenly, I want to throw up.
“Oh, umm, nothing. Never mind.” Oh my God, Shay, you idiot. “I’m excited for dinner.”
Thank God he doesn’t push that further.
“Me too.”
Silence awkwardly consumes us while the elevator comes to a stop and we make our way to the Uber Matt ordered. My ears ring the entire way to the restaurant as Matt makes small talk with our driver.
When the car pulls up in front of the place, it looks empty, like they might be closed. But the lights are on, and I see staff inside.
“Are they closing early or something? I thought they were usually open fairly late,” I ask nervously, worried we might’ve arrived at the wrong location or something.
“They’re open, I promise.” Matt’s voice is confident as he opens the door, and I slide out after him.
He offers me his hand to help me out of the car and up onto the curb. I shouldn’t take it, but I do, and electricity sparks between us as I slide my fingers onto his.
“O-okay,” I stutter as he leads the way to the front door, and we are greeted immediately by a man in a suit.
“Good evening. Are you Mr. MacArthur?” he asks Matt, who nods with a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Yes, sir.”
He slides his hand around my waist, and I jerk at the almost-foreign sensation. It’s been a long time since anyone has really touched me, but feeling his strong grip circle me swirls something deep in my core.
The ma?tre d’ smiles and steps back, letting us inside. “We are honored to have you as guests tonight. We promise to make this an unforgettable experience.”
I’m frozen in place, confused for a number of reasons, but mostly at what the hell is going on as Matt takes my hand in his, interlocking our fingers. He gently tugs me forward, but I stay rooted in place.
“Matt,” I aggressively whisper, and he turns back to me, giving me his full attention. “You can’t hold my hand. Andy and Carrington are here.”
He bites down on his bottom lip and winces. “About that.”
My stomach flips. “What?”
His hands slip beneath the collar of my suit jacket, and he helps me out of it, hanging it on the coat rack, along with his.
“I might have lied to you about who’s joining us at dinner.” Reaching forward, he takes my hand again, tugging me closer to him. “They’re not coming. No one is. The place is ours tonight, ours alone.”
I’m … I’m speechless. I have a thousand words forming in my mind, of ways to tell him how horrible of an idea all of this is. How we can’t do this.How it’ll be too much of a distraction. But he continues before I get a word out.
“I saw you post about this place a few times and thought you might enjoy a quiet dinner.” He says it like it’s so simple, so effortless, like it isn’t the most genuine and sweet thing anyone has ever done for me.
“Personally, I’d like to think of this as our first official date.
But if you want to keep pretending like we aren’t going to end up together, I guess we can do that too—”
My hands are cupping his face, emotions tearing through me like a tornado. I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about Matt. I’ve never wanted to give anyone the chance. But he’s found cracks in my armor and seeped between them, invading my being with his heart and soul.
We shouldn’t be here, we shouldn’t do a lot of the things we already have, but I don’t want to run from this anymore. I’m tired, and all I want right now is to feel everything I do for him. And I want to show him.
His eyes widen as I step forward and tip my head back. He reads me, his reaction time faster than ever as he meets me halfway. His lips don’t crash to mine; they caress them like he’s gone years imagining what this very moment would be like.
Pressing his lips against mine, he kisses me tenderly but firmly, unable to hide how badly he’s wanted to do this.
“Shay.”
His whimper nearly sends me over the edge, but my rumbling stomach pulls me back to the reality that we’re standing in the entryway of a restaurant and not in private.
Selfishly, I steal another kiss before stepping back and clearing my throat, my cheeks burning. I swallow hard, wetting my tingling lips. “D-dinner?”
Biting down on his bottom lip, he nods. “Dinner. After you.”
“Thank you.” I step forward, feeling lighter than I have in a long time.
The ma?tre d’ grins at us before turning on his heel and leading the way toward a table with lit candles and fresh flowers, a beautiful setting like I have never seen before.
“I hope it’s to your specifications, Mr. MacArthur.” He gestures toward the table.
“This is perfect. Thank you guys so much.” He follows me to my chair, pulling it out for me. “My lady.”
“Yours … hmm?” I hum, sitting down and letting him push it in for me.
“Hopefully. I might croak over soon if I have to go much longer without you.” He bends down and kisses the top of my head. “Which is going to be even harder after you stole our first kiss. I had a plan, you know, little thief.”
A cackle slips past my lips as he walks around the table and sits down across from me.
“Oh, really? Please tell me what your grand scheme was before I ruined it with a kiss.”
He holds his hand up, scoffing. “Oh, I never said it was ruined. I very much enjoyed the derailment of my well-thought-out plan.”
“Hmm,” I hum, my lips missing the sensation of his kiss, desperately wanting to go in for round two. But I can’t jump the poor man like a rabid animal. I only just let him touch me for the first time.
“Now, let’s get down to the important discussion of the night.” He sits up taller, grabs the bottle of wine, and pours us each a glass. “Please tell me”—he smirks—“your favorite color since, apparently, I don’t know.”
I laugh at how ridiculous that question sounds after what we’ve been through together. But at least he’s making an effort to get to know the little things.
“Green and pink.”
“Pink surprises me. I don’t see you wear it much.” A simple statement, but one that holds such weight.
“And you know all of my outfits?” I challenge him with a raised brow.
He grabs his glass and swirls it. “I know on the first day we met, you were wearing a maroon suit, which has become a regular in your wardrobe. You gravitate toward vibrant colors during home games and neutrals during away games. But never pink.” He takes a sip. “I would’ve remembered.”
My jaw is practically on the ground by the time he finishes, in complete disbelief that he had all of that stored away in his brain, especially when I had no idea I even did that. The truth is, I’ve worn pink almost every one of those days.
“I wore pink with most of those outfits.” I reach out with my left hand, a pulse shooting through it and trying to distract me, but I ignore it. “You just couldn’t see it.”
His lips part, and he takes a quick breath. “Well, that’s a shame.”
My hand spasms and bumps the glass, clinking against the candle that shakes in place, teetering back and forth. Embarrassment floods me, and my eyes immediately start to burn. I can’t even have a nice, flirty moment without nearly burning the place to the ground.
God, I should’ve just used my right arm. Why the hell was I feeling so bold, putting lefty to the forefront? It’s been doing really well lately, and I guess I just needed a kind reminder that it’ll never be perfect.
Shivers run down my arms, my blood draining from my face, taking my smile with it. “Shit.”
Matt scoops my left hand into his, the pad of his thumb stroking back and forth across my knuckles. “Hey, look at me.”
Blinking away the wetness in my eyes, I bite the inside of my cheek and look up at him, a soft candle glow illuminating his kind eyes.
His voice is a warm hug wrapping around me. “Get out of that damn head of yours, Rooney. You’re doing great. Always.”
“I just feel like …”
Ugh, the last thing I want from him is a pity party. He waits patiently for me to finish.
“Like I ruined the moment.”
He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, looking at me with astonishment. “I promise you, there is nothing—and I mean, nothing—you could ever do to ruin the moment with me. Nothing. Your arm could spasm and smack me across the face, and I would thank you.”
I giggle, the tears already fading as he does the most Matt thing in the world and cares for me in a way I didn’t even know was possible. “I like you… a lot.”
A full smile stretches across his face. “Shit, Rooney, I knew you were obsessed with me. It’s probably the reason you joined the coaching team, isn’t it? Just to get close to me.”
Staring at him with a deadpan look, a smirk flirting with my lips, I shake my head. “I’m already regretting telling you.”
He winks at me. “Nah, trust me. I already knew. And God, is the feeling ever mutual. I fear you’re never getting rid of me, so I hope you’re good with that.”
“Like a parasite.” I laugh, and he snorts.
“Oh, yeah, stuck to your side forever.”
I shrug. “I think I could be okay with that.”