Chapter Three #2
“My only advice is to have fun, but in moderation. It’s easy to get caught up in the nightlife, but remember to think of your body and what’s best for your game. Save the wildest antics for the off season.”
I did my share of partying, but those days seem far away.
“I’m not a big drinker anyway,” Finn adds. “Or clubber. My dance moves are severely limited. Unless I’m buzzed, then look out.”
I want to laugh again but I settle for a smile.
“Thanks for the warning,” I tease.
“I’m serious, my elbows should be registered as lethal weapons.”
Okay, I can’t hold back a chuckle at that.
“Most of the guys who live in our building are single,” Finn continues. “So that’s fun. We can hang out, watch movies, play video games.”
“No girlfriend?” I ask.
I shouldn’t presume, or ask at all, but it’s too late to take it back.
“Nah. Not since high school.”
“Be careful about that too,” I warn. “You’re a professional now and it’s a whole different thing. You’re going to get a lot of attention. And some people are only interested in your fame.”
“No worries there. I don’t do the hookup thing.”
Wait, like, ever?
“We’d better get a move on,” I insist, changing the subject.
We make our way through the locker room, and after getting my gear off, I wrap a towel around my waist, grab my kit, and head for the shower.
I don’t get any weird vibes or looks, but I’m still on high alert just in case.
Once I’m done cleaning up, I slip on my jeans, a crisp white button down, and a clean jersey for the photo shoot.
Most of the guys have already left the locker room, but Sorensen, Druin, and Berg wait for me and Finn to finish getting ready so we can head up together.
“What do you think so far?” Berg asks me as we step into the elevator.
“The team has a good mix. Range seems fair too.”
“He’s the best. You’re gonna learn a lot.”
“I hope so.”
I leave it at that. Who knows what’s going to happen from here on out? My usual ability to crack jokes and make easy conversation has fled, and small talk is painful. I glance at my reflection in the mirrored doors and wonder who the fuck this tense, tired man staring back at me is.
“The staff are great too,” Berg comments. “As long as you play by the rules.”
The elevator pings when we arrive at the third floor, and I step into the lounge. It’s a massive space with comfortable-looking sofas, leather club chairs, and TVs on every wall, along with memorabilia from past players and championships. There’s a bar and a table set up for catering too.
“Holy shit,” Finn exclaims, his eyes wide. “I’m not in Vermont anymore.”
There’s a white screen with lighting equipment set up on the far wall, and Rush’s public relations director, Hugo Mulvaney, is having an animated conversation with the photographer.
I met Hugo two days ago and I’m still not sure how I feel about the guy.
Most PR people are trained to be diplomatic, but Hugo makes no effort to be polite.
At least, not with me. I don’t think he likes me at all, but it doesn’t feel personal.
I’ve given him a lot more stress when it comes to his job.
He’s already juggling numerous requests for interviews and exclusive comments about my coming out, not to mention the team’s socials.
Hugo finally looks around and spots us, frantically waving us over.
“Oh my God, this is really happening,” Finn whispers to me as he runs an agitated hand over his short auburn hair. “Do I look okay?”
I turn to study him, and it’s the first time since meeting Finn that I allow myself to do that.
While he’s not a giant like some of the guys on the team, Finn’s still six-one, with broad shoulders and a lean physique that makes him agile.
Like me, he has a hockey nose—too big for his face—and freckles that dust every part of his face.
But it’s his eyes, pale gold with specks of green, that draws attention.
And his enormous smile. There’s nothing phony or artificial about Finn.
He’s vivid, and so full of color and life that I doubt even the photographer will be able to capture his spirit in one snap.
“You look great.”
“Is my cowlick tamed?”
“No one’s taking a pic of the back of your head, so I think you’re fine.”
“My hair’s too damn short and it’s annoying,” he grumbles.
“Why’d you cut it?”
“Damien didn’t tell you?”
I don’t want to confess that I haven’t talked to Damien for weeks, so I shrug instead.
Finn leans in. “We lost a soccer game to the rowing crew at the beginning of the month and the losers had to shave their heads.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, everyone on the Cougars got buzzed, Silas included.”
“No way. I can’t picture him without long hair.”
“I know. But I’ve got a ton of snaps as proof. I’ll show you the evidence later,” he says with a wink, then pauses to take a deep breath. “Okay, I’m ready to do this now. Thanks, Sel, that chat put the brakes on my freakout.”
“Come on, we don’t want to keep Hugo waiting.”
We amble over to Hugo, and after the introductions with the photographer, Evert Jackson, we get started. Evert motions for Finn to stand in front of the screen first, while I wait my turn and watch.
“This is pretty routine stuff,” Evert announces as he adjusts his camera. “Think of it like your graduation photos; all you need to do is stand and offer a big smile.”
“What? No dramatic posing? Damn,” Finn quips. “And here I thought I’d be New York’s next top model.”
Evert smiles at him.
“You can pose if you want to. But let’s get Hugo the shot he needs first.”
Finn stands with his hands in front of him, but his posture is rigid and so is his face.
“Let your arms fall to the side, and try to relax,” Evert calls out from behind the camera. “Tell me something about yourself.”
“Aw, man, don’t get me started,” Finn chuckles. “Sel can vouch that I’m a chatterbox.”
“Yes and no,” I add. “Not with me. Not until today.”
Evert starts clicking away.
“Talk all you want,” Evert insists. “I tour with musicians, and they can out-blab anyone.”
“Who do you work with?” I ask.
“Are you familiar with Wayward Lane?”
“Are you kidding me?!” Finn exclaims. “They’re one of my fave bands ever.”
“My boyfriend Jesse is their manager. We’re on a break before their next tour, which is why I took this gig. That and Hugo’s friends with my agent and he thought I might enjoy the change.”
Finn’s face lights up. “This day just gets better and better.”
“Right there!” Evert calls out. “That’s it.”
After several more clicks, Evert lowers his camera.
“Awesome, Finn, thanks. Sel, you’re up next.”
I switch positions with Finn and notice Hugo’s joined Evert.
Our PR director watches me intently. The way he’s studying me is unnerving and I don’t like it.
Is this how it’s going to be all season?
He’s going to keep his eyes glued on me to see if I fuck up?
Does Hugo think because I’m bi I’m going to try to sleep with every person I meet, staff and teammates included?
I try to ignore the uneasy clench of my gut but it’s useless.
This time last year, I would’ve joked my way through the photo shoot and had fun doing it.
Now, I want it over and done with so I can go home and not have to deal with anyone.
Evert is efficient, and when I’m done with my solo pics, we take our team photo.
I pick a spot at the end of the row and as far away from Finn as I can get.
Bad enough I’ve been paired with him on the ice.
He’ll face enough pressure as it is in his rookie season without adding my problems to the mix.
With the photo op done, I palm my phone and start checking messages to distract myself.
“You ready to grab that coffee now?”
I look up to find Finn standing in front of me.
“Sorry,” I grimace. “It turns out I need to pick up my keys sooner rather than later.”
The lie rolls easily off my tongue. I hate it.
“Oh, uh, okay.”
I don’t miss the disappointment on Finn’s face, and I feel like shit. Until I remember that he’s better off making friends with someone else.
“Rain check?” I add.
Finn nods.
The guilt hits me hard because it’s one promise I have no intention of keeping.