Chapter 9 The Florida Game
The Florida Game
The team checked into the hotel and received room assignments. He and Taylor had been roommates for the past couple of away games. Fletcher thought he was a pretty good roommate.
Something weird about Fletcher was that he was kind of a clean freak.
He hated the idea of touching his bed with “outside” clothes.
Especially after a night out. He would return to his room and immediately take his shoes off.
Then he would take a shower and put his outside clothes into a separate laundry bag he always packed.
Taylor never gave him a hard time for it the way his old teammates did. They would say Fletcher Armstrong was, without a doubt, a clean freak. God forbid a man wants to sleep in a clean bed. And don’t even get him started on the cleanliness of the actual hotel rooms…
Fletcher had been to this hotel too many times to count.
It had a restaurant on the first level that was one of his mom’s favorites.
Coach had mentioned something to Fletcher earlier about meeting up with his mom for dinner, but he wasn’t sure if it was a no-pressure kind of invitation or a “I’m your coach and I’m telling you that you need to get your ass to dinner” kind of invitation. It was probably the latter.
They dropped their bags off in their rooms. Taylor insisted he had the bed closest to the window, which was completely fine with Fletcher except for the fact that Taylor would have to walk past Fletcher’s bed wearing outside clothes to reach his own bed. Maybe it bothered him a little bit.
Fletcher stepped out onto their balcony, feeling the warmth of the Florida sun on his skin. Taylor joined him.
“Scootch over. I wanna come out, too.”
The balcony wasn’t that big. Fletcher shifted down a bit, so Taylor had enough room to step fully outside. Neither of them spoke for a solid minute. They just stood there, looking out to downtown Jacksonville.
“Are you going to meet with your parents?” Taylor asked Fletcher.
“I have to. Coach went to college with my mom. She’s meeting her for dinner at the restaurant downstairs. Coach all but said I needed to come, so I guess I’m just going to have to suck it up.”
“Just your mom? Or both parents?”
“My mom for sure, obviously. Maybe Dad, but I don’t know. I would rather go in blind.”
“That might be for the best. We should always rely on our natural survival instincts.”
Fletcher snorted. “You’re so weird. But I guess you’re right.”
“Do you want me to go with you?” He offered. “I think I could take him. He’s pretty old so it might not be a fair fight but…”
“You don’t have to try and cheer me up.” Fletcher told him. It sounded a little too harsh as he said it. “I just need to rip the Band-Aid off and get it over with.”
Taylor silently leaned over the balcony and did a quick scan of the area. “How far’s the beach from here?”
“Like forty minutes. I don’t think we’ll make it out there, bud,” Fletcher told him.
Taylor turned to look at him. “Are you kidding me? I literally packed my bikini for no reason.” He pretended to be upset, which admittedly helped to cheer Fletcher up a bit.
“You can come visit in the summer. The water should be warm enough for you to swim in it by then.”
“For us to swim in,” he corrected, putting a finger up in the air.
“Not a chance,” Fletcher chuckled. “I only swim in water clear enough to see my feet.”
“Then we’ll just go to Miami. We can stay with Abuela Sánchez.”
“Should we tell Sánchez to start packing his bags?”
Taylor squinted his eyes and pretended to ponder before shaking his head. “No. Just us.”
* * *
They won the first game 3-1. It was weird playing against his old team. Most of the older players played with his dad just a few seasons ago. He had expected them to play dirty, but it was Seattle who played dirty enough for the both of them.
Fletcher’s new team was fiercely loyal to one another.
And that included him. They had all seen the changes Fletcher had made over the past couple of weeks.
He had come to Seattle with a lot of fake confidence.
Sure, he was a good player. Really good.
But he wasn’t confident enough in his own abilities.
Playing with the Seaporters had helped him come out of his shell.
Coach had told him he was practically unrecognizable on the ice now.
A lot of it was because Fletcher had finally been proud of himself. This was all him. He worked hard to get here. He had worked hard to earn his spot.
“I came from nothing. I was a nobody. But I found a team who took a chance on me. Every time I step out onto that ice, it’s a chance for me to prove myself worthy of having such an incredible team.
This sport is truly a team effort, and I am so blessed to play with a group of guys who respect me just as much as I respect them.
It’s not my success—it’s my team’s success. ”
God, he was right. He didn’t want to admit it, but Taylor was right. This was what hockey was all about. It’s not the player who builds the team. It’s the team who builds the player. Fletcher had probably read that on some poster, but it was still the truth.
This was the first time he’d ever have fun playing on the ice in Florida. It was possible all along. He was just on the wrong fucking team.
“You need to tell someone about your shoulder,” Fletcher told Douglas. He had injured himself during the game from ramming another player into the boards. He was given a minor and the Manatees had a power play. They had several power plays. At one point, there were three of them in the penalty box.
Surprisingly, Taylor never left the ice. If Fletcher was on the ice, then so was he. There were a few close plays that nearly earned him a penalty, but he ended up getting away with it every time.
“My shoulder’s fine. I just need some KT Tape. It’ll be good enough to play for the next game.” Fletcher knew not to argue. Douglas was probably one of the most stubborn people he’d met. Well, not as stubborn as his dad. But Douglas was a close second.
He told Douglas to have a good night before he made his way back upstairs to his room.
While everyone else was heading out to celebrate, Fletcher had to shower and get ready for dinner with his family.
Coach had let it slip that his father would in fact be joining them, so Fletcher honestly wanted to puke his guts out.
He unlocked the room with his key card and stepped out of his slides. He quickly pulled out the first nice shirt and pants he had packed and hung them up on a hanger so they would hopefully iron themselves out with the steam from his shower.
He peeled off his outside clothes and despite showering right after the game, he still felt a little sweaty and gross. Probably because he sweated the entire bus ride back to the hotel.
* * *
“Dude, you’re so hot,” Douglas had complained earlier, sitting next to him.
“Awe, thanks Dougie.”
“No, man. You’re like a fucking furnace. Go sit with Piers or something.”
Fletcher let out a sigh. “Fine. But only because you’re injured. That’s probably why you’re acting like a dick right now.”
“I’m not injured!” Douglas protested. Says every single hockey player ever…
He got up from his seat and moved across the aisle to sit in the empty seat beside Taylor. He had his headphones on and was staring out the window, so Taylor didn’t overhear the conversation he just had with Douglas.
“Jesus, Armstrong. Why are you so fucking sweaty? I thought you took a shower.” He took off his headphones and looked at Fletcher with a revolted look on his face.
“Can it, Piers,” Fletcher bit out. “I’m like really fucking nervous right now,” Fletcher told him a little nicer. “I found out Dad’s gonna be at dinner. Coach brought it up and I overheard it.”
“You have time to shower again before we go,” he told him. Fletcher rolled his eyes.
“I don’t need you to come with me. I promise you I’ll be alright,” Fletcher told him.
“It’s not like he can physically hurt me.
And I’m already used to all the bullshit he’s called me over the years.
I’ll be fine.” He was trying to reassure Taylor, but a part of him felt like the more he said it out loud, the better he would feel about it himself.
Taylor narrowed his eyes on him. “Well that’s fine, I guess,” he said.
He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone, quickly typing out the name of the hotel restaurant.
“I was looking at the menu online and I saw they served fresh raw oysters. You know, I’ve never had east coast oysters so maybe you could bring—”
“Oh my God. Fine. I know exactly what you’re doing, Piers.”
“I’m coming to dinner?” he asked with a playful smirk. Fletcher nodded reluctantly.
“Really?” He beamed. “You’ll pay and everything?”
“You’re impossible.”