Chapter Seven #3
They moved on to Nina’s work, then to a disastrous date she had gone on the previous weekend with a man who spent most of dinner explaining cryptocurrency. Tessa laughed until she nearly spilled her water when Nina described him drawing a diagram on a cocktail napkin without being asked.
For the first time since training camp began, Tessa stopped thinking about deadlines.
Mostly.
Her phone remained facedown on the table, but she was aware of it every time it vibrated. Twice she resisted the urge to check. The third time, Nina reached over and flipped it herself.
A message from her editor appeared on the screen.
Salonen piece doing well. Nice work getting the clarification. Can you turn something on the final roster battles tomorrow? Belov solidifying the starting goalie angle would help traffic.
Nina read the first line before Tessa pulled the phone away.
“Doing well,” she said. “Look at you.”
Tessa stared at the final sentence.
Belov angle would help traffic.
The request was not unreasonable. Matvei’s performance was one of the team’s biggest stories. His name brought readers to the page, and the early response to her coverage proved it.
Still, something about the wording bothered her.
Not because she objected to writing about him.
Because she had spent lunch insisting that her interest in him was entirely professional, only to feel an immediate flicker of resistance at the thought of using him merely because he generated clicks.
“Everything okay?” Nina asked.
“Yeah.”
“You made another face.”
“It’s work.”
“Obviously.”
Tessa locked the phone. “My editor wants another Belov angle.”
“Do you have one?”
“Probably.”
“That sounded enthusiastic.”
“It’s fine.”
Nina waited, but Tessa did not explain. The concern was too small to articulate without making it sound larger than it was. Editors thought about traffic. Reporters thought about stories. Most of the time, the two aligned well enough.
She would find an angle if there was one.
She would not invent one because Matvei Belov’s name performed well in search results.
Their bill arrived a few minutes later. Tessa reached for it, but Nina pulled it toward herself.
“You’re not paying.”
“I was late. I should pay.”
“You bought lunch last time.”
“That was four months ago.”
“Exactly. Inflation.”
Tessa rolled her eyes and took out her wallet anyway. They eventually split it, mostly because Nina knew arguing any longer would make them both late returning to work.
They walked along the waterfront after leaving the patio, moving slowly through the crowd. The wind had picked up, carrying cooler air off the harbour and lifting strands of hair from Tessa’s ponytail.
Nina bumped her shoulder lightly against Tessa’s.
“You know I’m happy for you, right?”
Tessa looked at her.
“The job,” Nina said. “You worked forever for this.”
“Thank you.”
“But you have to let people see you occasionally.”
“I know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“I’ll do better.”
“Also something you keep saying.”
Tessa smiled. “Lunch next week?”
“Name a day.”
She opened the calendar on her phone.
Nina laughed. “You really have to check?”
“I don’t know the schedule from memory yet.”
“You knew Friday without checking.”
“That was different.”
“Because?”
Tessa stopped scrolling.
Friday was the final preseason game, and Matvei was expected to start.
She had remembered immediately.
“No reason,” she said.
Nina looked at her, then wisely chose not to comment.
They settled on Wednesday, which appeared to contain only a morning practice. Nina made Tessa enter it into the calendar while they stood beside the boardwalk, then waited until she had added two reminders.
“Now you have no excuse.”
“I’ll find one.”
“I know.”
They hugged before separating near the parking lot. Nina headed toward the downtown offices while Tessa continued toward the garage beneath the waterfront.
Her phone was still in her hand.
Before reaching her car, she reopened the Tribune website.
The Belov feature appeared several stories down the sports page now, beneath newer coverage from around the league. She tapped it and scrolled past the headline until the photograph filled her screen.
Nothing about the image had changed.
Matvei still looked serious. His mask remained pushed onto his head, his attention fixed on Pat outside the frame. It was the same photograph she had selected because it showed a goaltender absorbed in his work.
Now she noticed his mouth.
Not smiling, but softer than the rest of his expression. She noticed the faint scar along his jaw and the small curl of damp hair in front of his face.
Tessa shut off the screen.
“This is Nina’s fault,” she said aloud.
She unlocked the car and dropped the phone into the cup holder before she could look again.
Nothing had changed.
Matvei Belov was still difficult. He still distrusted her, and she still had a responsibility to cover him fairly without becoming personally invested in whether he liked her.
He was also, apparently, attractive.
Objectively.
Tessa started the engine and pulled out of the garage, determined not to think about either fact again.
She made it nearly four minutes.