11. Nathan
NATHAN
Nathan kept one eye trained on the seat Octavia should be sitting in all through warm up. It was where he kept his eyes glued during the anthems.
Nathan had sent Octavia a text yesterday, letting her know there were two tickets set aside for her for tonight’s game. She hadn’t replied, hadn’t given any indication she’d read his text, let alone intended to accept the tickets.
She’d set a line, it’s just sex, she said it twice.
But it didn’t feel like that to him. Sure she looked hungry for it when they met up, but he saw something else there.
Like she wanted to ask him more. Or perhaps he was transferring what he wanted onto her.
He wanted to ask her about her family and learn all her favourite things.
If she ever gave him permission to ask, he’d probably burst with them, overwhelming her with all the things he wanted to learn and reveal.
Then there was the way she kissed him. Those had evolved from their first night.
They became slower, more moments where she’d pull back and just look.
Then there was the one night where she ran her fucking nose down the side of his while he was balls deep before releasing a little gasp and pulling his mouth back to hers.
He’d done the “just sex” thing before, he didn’t like it all that much.
Octavia wasn’t just sex. She was a fucking promise of something bigger.
Pavlovic let the first shot of the game in.
Fucking high, glove side, just like he’d been letting in during every single practice since his wife told him it was over.
Pettersson had broken his stick on the goal post immediately after and miraculously only received a warning from the ref.
News of Pavlovic’s family drama had spread through the league like wildfire, fucking rookies.
The seats he’d hoped to see Octavia in sat empty through the first period.
Halfway through the second, he caught sight of a blonde sitting in one, a guy in an old team jersey beside her.
Octavia had either given away her tickets or the two people had moved from worse seats.
He tried and failed to not care that she hadn’t shown up.
“I don’t give a shit that half of you have drama happening in your personal lives.” Coach Sullivan hissed once they’d all taken their seats during the second intermission. “You look like a bunch of fucking minor leaguers out there. Pavlovic, is there something wrong with your glove hand?”
Pav shook his head, his expression remaining blank, the same one he’d been wearing since practice the other day.
“Then lift it,” Coach enunciated before turning on Nathan. “Albertson, where the fuck is your head tonight? I thought I could at least count on you and you’re out there swinging your stick around like you’ve never held one before.”
Nathan stared at the floor in front of him.
He could say it was Scottie. Put all the blame on being worried about his little brother, but that would be a lie.
He’d let a woman get into his head for the first time in his life.
He’d let sex mess with him. And not because he wasn’t getting any, but because he was and he didn’t know why it wasn’t enough.
“One more whistle in your direction,” Coach continued. “And you won’t see the ice for the rest of the fucking game, and you’ll be in the goddamn press box for the next one. Maybe if you sit and watch a game, you’ll remember how to fucking play it.”
He breathed in deeply and nodded. “Yes, Sully.”
There was a certain level of embarrassment, being yelled at by the coach as a veteran, especially when he had played with the guy earlier in his career.
He couldn’t even remember the last time he had been at the receiving end of a coach’s ire.
He could feel eyes on him, but he stared straight ahead, not wanting to see the pity, anger, or whatever feeling his teammates were conveying in his direction.
In the tunnel before heading onto the ice, Nathan bent and rested his stick across his knees as his teammates made their way out for the third period.
He closed his eyes and pictured the empty seat, Scottie looking away from him, Sully’s angry face, Octavia smiling up at him, nothingness.
He took a deep breath, stood straight, kicked the blade of his stick once with each skate, and made his way onto the ice.
Nathan didn’t get benched. He didn’t face being sat for the next game, he won the fucking game with a hat-trick and he didn’t look at those seats once.
It was a good reminder that what he set his mind to, he usually got.
Talent helped to get him to the NHL sure, but determination made up a lot of the equation. Octavia had no idea what was coming.