Chapter 1 Easton #2
An enthusiastic cheer of hell yeah echoes around the locker room from our teammates.
Even though we lost against our rival school’s team, their morale isn’t as low as mine for costing us the win.
They voted unanimously to pick me as team captain during summer training.
I’m letting them down if I can’t pull myself together.
“What’s your go-to postgame pick-me-up?” Noah prompts, phone poised to capture the response.
“Porter,” Madden growls from his seat on the bench at the gear cubby next to mine.
He’s shirtless, face mottled with red splotches while he hurries to tug a hoodie over his head.
“Chill out, Graves. It’s called creative cropping.” Noah smirks and shoots me a wink over the top of his phone. “You know what I keep telling you. Any exposure is good exposure.”
Noah’s the only one of us with sponsorship deals he’s secured through flashing his winning California beach boy smile, blond hair, and perpetual golden tan on social media.
Madden ducks his head, thick dark hair hanging in his face as he scowls at his lap. “I’m just here to play hockey.”
“And with that winning attitude, who wouldn’t want to sponsor you?” Noah quips. “So? Give us your postgame recovery ritual. What about you, captain?”
“Not right now,” I say. “Ask us tomorrow.”
Ruffling my hair, I cast a glance around the room. The whole team is here. None of them have left yet, though Coach Lombard cut us loose. I clear my throat and step to the center of the room, thinking of the things Dad would say to me after a loss that I need to hear myself right now.
“Don’t let tonight weigh on you. A season isn’t defined by one game. We’ve got a long road to go.”
The guys thump their feet on the floor and clap. My chest tightens as the lingering tension in the room breaks.
“Let’s come back strong tomorrow,” I say. “See you all there ready to work.”
“Go blue!”
The team shouts our chant as one before they begin to leave the locker room.
“You coming?” Cameron asks.
I pause, weighing my options. “Is everyone going out? I might head back to the house with anyone who’s not.”
“We need this tonight so we can hit the ice tomorrow with a clean slate,” he reasons.
I nod slowly. “Yeah.”
He bumps his fist against mine. “Good man. Let’s go. Come on, rookie. You too.”
Elijah points to himself, green eyes wide. I wave him over so he’s not hovering at the edge of the group.
The five of us head out of the arena and start the short trek from the far side of campus to the local sports bar. After a game, The Landmark is where everyone goes. The blast of cool, late October air feels good. It’s helping clear my head during the walk through town.
This is a big part of hockey, too. If you don’t know your teammates, all the practice in the world can’t take you the last extra mile that sparks from the camaraderie built outside the rink.
We live together off campus, eat together, and go out together.
I see them more than I see my mom and little brother, but it’s okay because my teammates are my family at Heston.
When we make it to The Landmark, the place is packed with students and townies that attended the game.
They commiserate together with pitchers of beer and the best wings in the state.
It smells fucking heavenly. I wish I could cheat on the plans the team nutritionist gave me to enjoy some of that tonight, but the best I can get away with is a couple of beers.
Hambone, the owner’s white and tan dog weaves through the room, sniffing around for any scraps of fried chicken that fall. He trots over and I kneel down to greet the pitbull with a scratch behind his ears.
“Hey, Hammy. You making out good tonight?” I chuckle at the way his whole body wiggles when he wags his tail. “Yeah? Good boy.”
“Our usual spot’s full,” Noah says when I stand up.
“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” Madden growls.
Right as we follow his gaze, the group taking up the end of the bar shouts in celebration. My mood plummets at the sight of red. Some of Elmwood’s players are here, in our bar.
“What the hell are they doing here?” I mutter.
“I heard from Coach Kincaid they have another away game on their schedule south of here, so they’re staying in town tonight instead of busing back to their campus,” Cameron says.
Madden takes a threatening step in their direction, thick brows pulled together. I cut him off and nudge him back with a shake of my head.
“It’s fine, Graves. Let’s just go over here.” I motion to the other end of the bar furthest away from them. “They’re not ruining the rest of our night.”
“Damn right,” Cameron says.
Reagan, one of the student bartenders, makes her way to us once we’re situated with a sympathetic smile. “Hey guys. The usual?”
Noah braces his elbows on the bar. “Reagan, I need to drown all my sorrows tonight.”
“So a pitcher, four large baskets of grilled chicken strips, and a round of potato wedges?” She laughs when five hungry as fuck hockey players nod in unison.
“Stat, babe.” Noah blows her a kiss. “Thank you”
“Just water for me. That’s it,” Elijah says.
“Not so fast.” With the same mischievous smile that steals the hearts of girls all over campus, Noah waves a twenty pinched between two fingers.
Reagan accepts the tip he slides her whenever we’re here to make sure our song choice plays.
“Did you think you’d get out of it because we’re so far from the stereo system? ”
“Come on,” Elijah protests. “Really?”
“Tradition’s tradition, man.” Cameron rubs his mouth to cover his grin. “You’ve gotta do it. We’ve all been through this. Easton. Noah. Your brother did it.”
Elijah’s older brother was a sophomore on the team during mine and Cameron’s first year here. Caleb Adler was drafted after that season and plays for Seattle.
“It’s your time.” I elbow him when Pony by Ginuwine starts to play.
Whenever he hears it, he’s supposed to dance. The rest of the patrons get a kick out of this just as much because it's’ a time-honored team tradition.
Cameron chuckles. “You’ve got this, rookie.”
Elijah pulls a face, then his shoulders slump. He keeps his light brown hair trimmed on the sides, but the longer section on top falls in his face. He scrapes it back with a sigh.
Noah hypes him up when he starts to move. He’s off beat, but his attempt at a sexy dance has all of us trying to keep it together. Not cracking up is a struggle as he turns around, plants his hands on his thighs, and tries his best impression of twerking.
I lose it first, leaning heavily on Noah. Cameron breaks next, wheezing while he wipes away tears.
Shouts and whistles from the other side of the bar cut through our laughter. My smile fades while I search the crowd to see what the commotion is. The Elmwood guys block the view around the opposite end of the bar where a bunch of people have congregated.
Exchanging a look with Cameron and Noah, I lead them around the corner for a better view. I’ll tolerate Elmwood crashing our bar, but if they start any shit, we’ll handle them.
The yelling shifts into cheers as a girl emerges in the middle when she stands on a bar stool. She climbs on top of the bar and winks at Reagan as she tugs her ponytail free, sending wavy chestnut brown hair cascading around her shoulders.
Rolling her hips to the sensual beat of the song, she sinks her fingers in her hair and gives the entire bar a show that captures my rapt attention. Mine, and every other guy’s in the room.
“Damn, baby,” Noah mutters.
I agree.
She drops down low and pops back up with a sexy move that ignites heat low in my gut. My hands ball into fists when she faces our direction.
It’s her. The girl from the game.
I’m so awestruck that she’s here, I’m not watching where my feet are taking me. I grunt as I walk into a wooden column, clipping my side. Pain flares in the shoulder that Donnelly slammed against the boards earlier while I stumble to regain my balance, nearly knocking over a bar stool.
The guys bust out laughing, but it barely registers. I don’t care. How the hell could I care about anything else?
Nothing else matters right now. My eyes remain locked on her.