6. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
Cameron
“How was dinner with your dad and Nila last week?”
“It was weird,” I tell Kade, Dylan, and Blaze as we huddle against the rink railing. “My dad loves her.”
“Yeah? What’s so weird about that? Your dad likes everyone he meets,” Dylan says, removing his helmet and wiping the sweat from his brow. “I think you’re just being nitpicky because you like her.”
“I don’t like her,” I lie. The truth is, ever since I saw her and my dad interact, I can’t get her out of my head. She was so … endearing. And she fit in with us effortlessly. It was like she belonged there. Which is something I’ve never experienced before. I mean, I’ve introduced a couple of my exes to my dad over the years, but it’s never gone that well. They’re usually put off by his dad jokes, but Nila wasn’t even phased. She even seemed to enjoy it.
Kade laughs, his golden-brown eyes alight with amusement. “It’s not that big of a deal if you did. She’s pretty and seems to have a good head on her shoulders. I don’t see what’s so bad about admitting you might have a crush...”
“Frankie wants us to go to the Humane Society to walk dogs later.”
“Wow, Frankie is so original.” Blaze frowns, rolling his eyes. “I swear that’s where all the celebs go when they’ve done something stupid.”
“I didn’t do anything stupid,” I level with him.
“Yeah, because punching out a mouthy fan is the work of a saint,” Blaze quips back, shaking his head.
“I was defending you!” I scoff.
“I don’t need defending.” He pokes me in the chest. Blaze is the oldest one of the four of us, and it shows. He’s always got a level head, and while that can be a good thing, it also causes friction.
“Let’s call it for the night,” Coach Wilson shouts.
I glance around at my other teammates, who head off to the locker room. Most of them are rookies, and the four of us have been on the team the longest. It’s not like we’re not friendly with the rest of them—we are. But the four of us are like family. We’ve been through a lot together .
“Addy’s got some kind of art gallery viewing tonight,” Blaze speaks up after a few moments. “Can you guys come? I don’t want to go alone. When she starts talking about art, it gets weird.”
I chuckle but shake my head. “I can’t. I told you I have that dog-walking thing.”
“Well, it doesn’t start until around four. You can bring your girlfriend.” Blaze wiggles his brows.
“Shut up,” I mutter as the other two chuckle. “It’s not like that. I told you. Besides, she’s fresh out of a relationship with some guy who still blows up her phone. She said she broke up with him because she doesn’t want to be tied down.”
“Red flag.” Kade holds up a hand and then bursts into laughter.
“Hard to be a red flag when there’s nothing going on between us—and there’s nothing going on. She’s not interested.”
“But you are.” Dylan shoots me a lopsided grin. “Can you imagine what the PR team would have to say about that? Oh man, talk about a nightmare.”
“Nah, they’d probably spin it in their favor,” Kade reasons, leaning against the wall. “I can hear Frankie now talking about how it’s the perfect distraction from the media storm.”
We all laugh, but I feel devoid of humor as my eyes drift up into the stands, landing on Nila. She’s sitting there alone, her eyes on me. My stomach flips, but I ignore the sensation .
There’s no doubt in my mind that I’m attracted to Nila ... and not just because she’s drop-dead gorgeous. There’s something about her that draws me in. She’s smart, driven, and determined, and she … challenges me.
But I’m just hoping this feeling will go away. She’s here for work, and it would be unprofessional for our relationship to go further than that.
However, that thought doesn’t seem to stop my eyes from drinking every inch of her in. Nila is the kind of woman that’s just naturally beautiful. Even sitting there in a pair of leggings and an oversized sweatshirt, she commands my attention.
I wonder what she’d look like wearing my jersey…
“So, are you going with us, Cam?”
I whip my head around to Blaze. “What?”
“To the gallery,” he answers me, a goofy smile on his face. “You spaced out staring up at the stands, dude. You’re into her.”
“I’m just tired.” I try to play it off. “But, um … I’ll see about the gallery. I don’t know how long this community service thing will take.”
“Yeah, well, good luck with that.” Blaze pats my shoulder.
“Thanks.”
I’ll need it.
“I’m going to livestream part of this,” Nila tells me the moment we step out of the door of the pet shelter, a chocolate lab mix named Luna in tow. “You can talk about your love of dogs, community service, and interact with some of the fans that comment.”
“Nope.”
Her shoulders fall. “What do you mean, no?”
“I’m not doing any of that. It’s a waste of time. No one cares.”
“You have almost seven hundred thousand followers, Cameron. Someone is bound to care. Not to mention, if it all goes well, we can make the video available for them to view later. I think they’ll eat it up.”
“None of those people even know me,” I argue, growing more defiant as Luna tugs at the end of the leash. “I’m here to walk the dogs, not make a show out of it for the whole world to see.”
She places a hand on her hip. “You’ve got this all wrong. You are here to make a show out of your community service. How else are you going to convince people you’re not the angry, unhinged man the media is portraying you to be?”
“I don’t care what people think. I’m just here to do my community service.”
“You don’t have to pretend like you’re some selfless celebrity. They don’t exist. ”
“That’s a big assumption,” I snap, growing defensive. “You don’t know me.”
She sighs, pushing some of her fiery locks out of her face. “Okay, fine. Maybe that was a little over the top. I’m just ... I’m trying to make this work for you, Cameron. You have to understand that most of social media is a show. It’s like a highlight reel of your life, and honestly, it’s not always an authentic one. We amp up the good moments to be magical .”
“And that’s why the depression rates are so high. People think everyone else’s lives are better than they really are. It’s sad. I don’t want to be a part of it.”
“Well, you have no choice,” Nila levels with me. “Your managers are trying to clean up your image, and I’m just here to do what I was hired to do. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
“Wow, you’re kind of cranky today.”
“No, I’m not. You’re the one being difficult.”
“No, I’m just speaking the truth about social media,” I say to her, folding my arms across my chest. “I mean, you have how many followers? And are any of them your real friends? Because my real friends have nothing to do with my social media.”
She grows quiet before pulling out her phone. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Uh oh, I hit a nerve.
And now I feel like a jerk .
“Nila, I’m sorry—”
“Don’t.” She stops me with her hand, her voice sharper than I’ve ever heard it. “Start walking and I’ll start the livestream.”
I inwardly cringe at the loss of emotion in her tone. Right now, she’s impossible to read.
I let out a sigh, still feeling like an idiot for jabbing at her like that. I start off down the street and do my best to ignore the ping of the livestream starting.
“Cameron, your fans are dying for an up close and personal look into your life,” she begins, her voice light and cheery again. “What’re you up to today?”
“Um,” I falter, glancing over to the camera. “I had practice today with the team, and now I’m at the Humane Society walking the dogs. It’s exercise for me—and them.” I feel stupid talking to a camera, but I keep going. “I grew up with dogs in my family. My mom had a Dachshund named Benny. He was with her until the very end, and then...” My voice trails off. I don’t want to talk about my mother’s death on a livestream.
“What’s your favorite breed of dog?” Nila’s voice cuts in, catching my attention.
“Probably a Siberian Husky,” I answer, grateful for the topic switch. “They like ice. I like ice.”
Nila giggles, and I watch the smile on her face grow. “Okay, folks. We’re opening it up to your questions now. Let’s see. Oh, wow, there are more questions than I can keep up with.”
My brows shoot up in surprise. “Oh? Well ... keep them coming. ”
“What’s your favorite way to spend your free time?”
“Um, I guess with my friends? I don’t know. I don’t have a lot of free time. I like to run and hit the gym. I also like gardening.”
“Gardening?” Nila questions.
“Yeah,” I tell her, chuckling. “My mom was into gardening. I always helped her with everything. It’s relaxing, and it’s cool to eat the food you grew yourself.”
“Well, I guess you can give us a few tips then.”
I shake my head. “Maybe another time. Give me another question.”
She chews on her lip for a few moments. “When did you first realize that you were interested in hockey?”
“I didn’t grow up around hockey, really, but I had a friend who played when I was in elementary school. I went to one of his games, and from there, I was hooked. My dad convinced the coach to let me on the team that year since it was the very start of the season. I never looked back.”
“What’s the story behind your jersey number?”
“Three is actually my favorite number. Growing up, my mom always told me it was lucky, and it’s never failed me yet.”
“What was your favorite subject in school?”
“Graduating,” I joke as I mull it over. “Probably science. I liked learning the why behind the way the world works—the technical stuff though, not the philosophical. That’s over my head. ”
Nila looks over the top of her phone at me, her eyes glistening under the spring sun. She looks amused as she gazes at me, a smile curling her thick lips upward.
It’s adorable...
And if answering stupid questions makes her happy, I’ll do it. I guess.
“If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live?” she reads another question.
“Uh, that’s kind of a hard one. I’d probably have a central home near family, but then I’d just travel a lot.”
“What do you want to do after you retire from hockey?”
I stop at the question. “I don’t know. I’ve never thought about what’ll happen when I retire. I hope to play hockey until I die. Maybe I can coach a kids’ team or something.”
“That’s sweet,” Nila comments.
My cheeks feel hot.
“Okay, one more question before we wrap this up...” She appears to be scrolling through something, her brows furrowed. “What’s your ideal date?”
I cock my head to the side. “Different question.”
She gives me a weird look. “What’s your favorite food?”
“Anything Italian.”
She gives me a thumbs up. “Okay, we’ll see you guys back at the shelter in about fifteen minutes for an interview with Karla, the owner.” Nila taps her finger on the screen and then drops the phone to her side. “See? That wasn’ t so hard, was it?”
“Not really,” I admit, stopping to pat Luna’s head. “But there’s no way I could do a livestream alone. It’d feel like I was talking to myself.”
“I get that.” She laughs, shoving the phone into the side pocket of her leggings. “But you did great. I’ll handle the interview with Karla. You just have to be there in the shot.”
I nod. “I can handle that.”
“Good ... I just have one question, though.”
“What’s that?”
“Why didn’t you answer what your perfect date is?”
I shrug, meeting her eyes. “Because it’s not the activity that makes the date perfect, it’s the person.”