Chapter 1 #2
“It’s my lower back. It’s been tight all summer. The landscaping—hauling rocks, ripping out hardscape, loading trucks. It’s not exactly a conditioning program.”
“So you spent your whole summer doing hard labor? Lifting rocks?” He straightens up off the boards and crosses his arms. “This is how they treat prisoners where I come from.”
I burst out laughing. “It’s not that bad.”
“You’re hunched over like a seventy-year-old man and you tell me it’s not bad.” He shakes his head. “Aaron Kelly. You need a better training program. And a better summer job. I could see the way you were pulling up on that last set of crossovers. You’ll tear something if you keep that up.”
“Thanks for the advice. I’ll survive.”
“I’m serious. I'm going to set records this season. I can’t have my co-captain limping around the ice like he needs a walker.”
“I need my Dad’s business to stay afloat.”
“This, I understand. That is why you need Diego.”
My eyebrows go up. “How do you know about Diego?”
“Diego Vasquez. Solstice Athletic Management. You’re meeting with him later this month in New York, yes?” He looks pleased with himself. “I’m meeting with him, too. If Diego is smart — and he is — he won’t pass up on representing you and me.”
“You really think Diego wants to represent both of us?”
“Diego is a man who sees opportunities everywhere.” Sasha smiles. “And so am I.”
“The sponsorship money would be…” I trail off. But Sasha’s watching me, and I give up pretending. “Life-changing.”
Sasha nods.
“I’m confident Diego will make me an offer.
Very confident.” He pauses. “And he’d be a fool not to sign you, too.
You’re exactly what these corporations want—the American boy next door with the good looks.
And the sad backstory about the father?” He waves his hand like he’s painting a billboard. “They’ll put you on a cereal box.”
I give a small laugh. “I never thought of myself on a cereal box.”
“It’s far better than hauling rocks.” He drops his arms to the rail and leans closer. His voice dips. “I’m serious, Aaron Kelly. You’re too pretty to be destroying your back lifting rocks for a living. You should be in front of cameras, making every sports fan in this country lose their minds.”
My lungs forget how to work.
Pretty. He just called me pretty.
Is he flirting with me?
No. Get it together. He’s just messing with your head.
My face is burning. I can feel it and there’s nothing I can do about it. “I—” My voice comes out wrong. “If Diego is looking for a hockey player to make the female fans lose their minds, he’s probably going to choose you.”
Why did I say that? Even though we’re on the same team, Sasha is my rival. I have to prove to the coach and my teammates and the fans that I belong here. I shouldn’t be handing him compliments.
He drops his gaze and looks me up and down, slow and deliberate in a way that makes me feel lightheaded. And then he’s looking into my eyes again and smiling like I just said exactly the right thing.
“You might be right. American girls do love me.” He tilts his head. “Still, even with me around, you have a good chance with those wholesome all-American looks on your side.”
Am I blushing?
His grin says he already knows the answer. Good. Fine. I don’t care what his grin says.
“I’m looking forward to this season, Aaron Kelly. We’ll be quite the force on the ice together.” He pushes off the rail and straightens to his full height. “It’s going to be very good to have someone close to my level on this team.”
I almost let it slide. Almost. “Close to your level?”
“Well—” The corner of his mouth twitches. “Almost my level. But close enough to keep things interesting.”
“You’re really this insufferable in person. I thought you said all those interviews were an act.”
He's delighted. “You’ve watched all my interviews?”
Crap. “I’ve seen a couple.”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t you want to watch me?” He says it slowly, savoring it.
This guy has nerve, I think. “Are you always this humble?”
“I don’t see the point of humility when you know you’re exceptional. False modesty is boring, and I hate to be bored.” He runs a hand through his hair—that move, the one from every interview—and I snap my eyes to the ice.
"It’s very sad, what your family went through with your father’s health. Truly.” His voice drops, and I believe him. Then the grin slides back. “But I’m still going to kick your ass on this ice.”
I laugh, glad the topic has moved back to sports. “I think you’re supposed to save the trash talk for our opponents.”
Sasha winks at me. "I can do both."
My stomach drops straight through the ice.
Then he turns and heads for the rink doors, taking his time, hands in the pockets of his hoodie.
“See you in New York, Aaron Kelly,” he calls over his shoulder. The metal doors bang shut behind him. The sound echoes through the empty arena and fades to nothing.
I stand there. The cold air hits my face and I realize how warm I’ve been this whole conversation. My jersey is sticking to my chest. I’m still gripping my stick too hard.
He was just being friendly, I tell myself. And completely over the top. That’s his personality. He’s like that with everyone. And the pretty thing-it was probably a mistake. He's still learning English.
I pick up the puck I dropped and line up a shot.
The puck hits the crossbar. I never miss that shot.
This is not the reception I expected from Sasha whose last name I can’t pronounce. Not even close. There is something about him that is completely different than what I was expecting. Something that makes me want to get to know him better in New York.