Chapter 3 Filtered Face - Off Luna
Filtered Face-Off
Luna
What a fucking asshole. Tears burn the corners of my eyes as I hover in the doorway of the weight room.
He has no clue how hard I’ve worked to get where I am.
That man has never had to worry about paying for a single thing in his life.
Not hockey fees, or equipment. Not tuition or transportation. How dare he call me vapid.
My hands are trembling so hard I have to clutch them to my chest. If I walk out now, I’ll do something I regret. Like maybe punching him in his pretty face. And the consequences of that would be… unfortunate.
I wait until their footsteps have faded away down the hall before I duck back into the weight room.
I can’t go to a professional meeting with tear stains, and there’s no way I’m going to let him know his words got to me.
As if it’s not humiliating enough hearing him say that shit.
I couldn’t handle it if he knew what I had overheard.
The massive mirror covering the wall to my right might not be intended for cleaning up tears, but it’ll have to work for today.
The white towel I’m dabbing under my eyes smells a bit funky since I was using it to wipe away my sweat, but it’s the best I’ve got right now.
I’d love to head for the bathroom to splash some cold water on my face, but then I’ll be even later for this meeting.
One more glance in the mirror reveals blotchy red cheeks and an unacceptable ring of redness around my eyes.
I give up, gather my bags, and rush off to clean up.
I wipe down my face and dab on some concealer as quick as I can with frequent glances at my phone to check the time. But I’m still going to arrive out of breath from my run down the hall and up the stairs to get to the meeting room.
Each and every one of the six people seated around the small meeting table turns to stare at me when I skid through the door. My skin gets hot and tight under the weight of their judgment.
Beau raises an eyebrow at me but refrains from making the judgy comment I can almost see on the tip of his tongue.
Coach Danner doesn’t pull her punches, though. “Glad you could fit us into your schedule, Miss Wilder.” Her angled black eyebrows are pulled together in a harsh line, giving her an even sharper look than usual.
“I’m sorry. I was working out and lost track of time.”
This time, he clearly can’t keep his comment to himself. “Were you filming it for your adoring fans?”
I shake my head, pressing my lips together to keep any errant words from slipping through.
“Actually, that’s a fantastic opener for our meeting today.
” Cynthia, the PR manager for the team, jumps in, ready to smooth things over.
Her blonde bob is as sleek and efficient as her work ethic.
I’m sure her analytical mind can’t miss the tension thick in the air between Whitaker and me, but she’s way too professional to comment on it.
“Right.” Pelton, the athletic director, cuts in. He swipes a hand through the silver and black strands of his hair. “I think it would help if I kick this off with some potentially exciting news. And then Miss Leighton can fill you in on the plan.”
She dips her head in a brisk nod at the director.
“The hockey program has a new potential sponsor. We’re talking about a major donation agreement that will benefit the teams for at least the next ten years. And after we lost the Reed sponsorship a few years ago, this influx of funds is essential to maintain the high standards of the college.”
“Teams?” I ask. Most of the big donors support the men’s team, not the women’s, so the tiniest spark of cautious excitement swells in me.
“Yes, Miss Wilder. This donor would like to support both the men’s and women’s teams. I know you are badly in need of some dressing room renovations and equipment upgrades. This will look after that and much more,” Pelton says.
“Who is it?” Beau asks.
“The donor would like to remain anonymous until they make their decision. And that’s the catch.
We’re not the only college vying for this sponsorship.
And to be frank, we’re not even at the top of their list right now.
But that’s where Cynthia comes in. She has some ideas for bringing them on board with Team Lakeview. ”
He ducks his head at our PR manager. The spark of excitement ignites into a full-fledged bonfire.
This would be the best legacy I could leave behind when I graduate.
Everything I do on my social media is to encourage women in sports and inspire a new generation of female hockey players and enthusiasts.
To leave them this… a vote of confidence and support for future generations would be incredible.
“Thanks so much, Geoff,” she says, making eye contact before turning back to us.
“What I’ve got here is a targeted plan to maximize your online and community presence.
Luna already has a massive head start in creating goodwill.
She’s got her ready and waiting fanbase.
But we need to show the donor that the men’s team takes its community support just as seriously.
You’ve already established some community contacts like the school breakfast program and various other local charities.
” She leans forward, bracing herself on her elbows.
“What I need now is for you all to be more visible with your engagement. The men’s team has unfortunately taken a bit of a hit reputation-wise over the last few years, but I know you’re all good guys.
You just need to show that side to the rest of the world. ”
Beau sits up tall, leaning forward to give her his full attention. It’s like this sort of thing was instilled in him at birth. “And what’s your proposal for us?”
He looks genuinely interested. There’s no sarcasm or doubt visible on his face. But I’m guessing he’s an expert at maintaining a neutral face. I’ll make sure not to invite him to poker night.
“Number one is social media. In this day and age, that’s the way to go.
The girls are already on point with this, which makes my job easier.
Thank you, Luna.” She nods at me. “Now we have to fold you in with her fans, and you’ll be set.
They’re going to love you. I know a few of the guys have their own smaller followings.
Jenson has notably been expanding his social media reach lately.
But for this to really work, I’m going to suggest you be the face of the men’s team, Beau.
You don’t currently have a social media presence, but you have name recognition, so the two of you are the perfect combination. ”
His smooth veneer slips the tiniest bit, and I fixate on the small imperfection of a wrinkle forming between Beau’s eyes. Seeing him ruffled is the only good thing about this meeting, because the idea of working with him is a hell no for me.
“What if we leverage our own strengths without dragging each other into something unfamiliar? The ladies and I can focus on the social media since we’ve already got a fantastic rhythm going in that department.
Whitaker and his guys can focus on more in person type events.
Seems like that way we can cover all our bases without stretching ourselves too thin. ”
Beau gives a small nod, as if it pains him to agree with me.
Sin opens her mouth to answer, but our AD cuts in.
“Actually, one of the specific weaknesses our mystery donor pointed out in our program is the lack of cooperation between the women’s and men’s teams. She would like to see the teams working together.
Mutual respect between the men and women is a key factor in her selection criteria.
That point is nonnegotiable. You’ll be expected to attend events together throughout the year and to work together on social media projects.
We need full participation from both of you to showcase your partnership. ”
I glance at Beau again but can’t spot another crack in his facade even though he’s got to be even more against this plan than I am. If that’s possible. The thought of having to spend more time with him is making me fidgety and anxious.
I look at Coach Danner, and she gives me a tight smile. “Isn’t this perfect, Wilder? Think of the things we’ll be able to do for next year’s team.” There’s almost enthusiasm in her voice.
“Right, Coach.”
Beau nods. “No problem. We’ll make it work.”
Sin graces us with a rare smile. “Excellent. We’ll leave you two alone to get the ideas flowing.
You can start working on your plan for the month.
Remember, I’m here for you to help with brainstorming, setting things up and filming.
I’ve also got a few more projects in the works for the two of you.
This is going to be an epic year for Lakeview hockey.
” It’s apparent that she’s as motivated as I am to leave her mark on the school.
“Yes, it will. I’m counting on the two of you to set the example for your teams and lead the way.
We can’t afford any more negative PR.” The director leans forward, propping his hands on the table to give us a brusque nod before rising from his seat.
Seems unfair that we have to take the brunt of the blame for the shit the men’s team got up to a few years back, but isn’t that the way of the world.
The scraping sound of chairs on carpet, and papers rustling accompany the genial chatter as everyone else files out.
And then I’m left with only my shiny new sworn enemy. The silence stretches out uncomfortably as we stare at each other.
Beau is the one to break the awkwardness of dead air. “Whatever happened earlier, we’ve got to do this, so let’s set up a meeting. Maybe after Wednesday practice.”
My agenda whirs through my head. It’s always tight but rigorously scheduled out. This project is going to throw my entire game plan into the blender.
I must have left him hanging too long while I tried to process the new information.
“Looking for an excuse to get out of it? Please go ahead. I don’t have any desire to be involved in this any more than you do, but I’m not backing out.”
It’s a struggle, but I swallow down the retort battling to escape.
I’m not going to let him goad me into messing this up for the team.
Whatever this donor thinks of the men’s team, those guys never seem to lack funds for their program.
Lucrative financial opportunities for the women’s team are not so easy to find.
I’m not sure what to make of him, though.
He’s leaning back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest in a pose that should look relaxed and arrogant but instead gives him a tense and trapped look.
I thought he was unreadable, but the way he’s got his arms wrapped around himself and the way his eyes are darting back and forth between me and the door is clear.
And is that a bead of sweat forming on his perfect brow? He looks almost vulnerable.
“I can make Wednesday work.” I can do my weekly livestream from the arena while the guys are practicing. My followers might actually dig that. I’ll give them a little tour and maybe even give them a brief glimpse of the men’s practice.
He’s out of his chair so fast he almost leaves smoke behind. “Make sure you’re on time.”
Any hint of sympathy is crushed under the weight of that comment, and I almost let the fuck you slip out this time. What a total ass.