Page 29 of Rookie Attraction

Without thinking, I hold the door open for him, and when he walks past me, I don’t miss his swagger in that tailored suit. He’s got a confidence I didn’t see back in the summer. Or maybe I was too much in my head—and my ego—to notice.

“See you at practice,” I murmur.

Finn pauses. “You okay after the press conference?”

“I’m fine, but thanks for asking.”

“Heading home?”

“Yup. Are you meeting up with the guys?”

“Yeah, at some club on the Upper West Side. I texted you about it, but maybe you’ve got your notifications turned off.”

There’s no way I’m going to admit that I ignored him.

“I was going to skip it, but since it’s my first NHL game, I figured, what the hell.” Finn continues with a wide smile. “Even if we lost, I’ve still got a lot to celebrate, right? You should come with.”

“Not tonight. Another time.”

Fuck, how times have changed. I used to be the first one ready to party with my teammates. Now I’m like a tortoise pulling into my shell for protection.

Go home, Sel. Before you make another mistake and change your mind.

“Okay, see you soon.”

“Night, Finn.”

I offer him a wave and keep walking. By the time I make it to the elevator and down to the parking garage, the aches and pains are starting to settle into my bones. I don’t know if it’s the stress of the past month, but I’m looking forward to a day off. It’s strange, because I used to play my best under pressure, but I’m not sure anymore. And if I can’t find my way back, then what? Where do I go from here?

Finn

The aptly named Velvet Beast is New York’s newest and hottest club. It’s ginormous, with butter-soft booths that are more comfortable than my bed at home, and not one, not two, but three dance floors. I get to experience the VIP balcony, surrounded by buzzed teammates, ear-shattering music, gorgeous women, and more booze than I’ve seen in my life. I should be pounding back the alcohol and letting loose, but I’m too caught up in my head. Worried about my teammate. Which is why I popped in to watch the press conference earlier when I wasn’t invited. Sel looked pale and nervous during the whole thing, and even afterward, when I met him coming out of the locker room, I could see the stress lines etched on every angle of his face. I wish there was something I could do to help him.

How about leave him alone?

When Sel didn’t reply to my text, I wondered what was up. I was about to call him and then figured no, I was acting silly. He’s got a lot on his plate; he doesn’t need me adding to it by hounding him to go out. So I let it go. Still, I wish he’d come out with us tonight. I get the feeling he’s isolating from people, not by choice, but to protect himself. Given what I know about his personality, I can’t imagine that’ll work for long.

When I arrived at the club an hour ago, Berg asked me if Sel was okay, and I didn’t know what to say at first. Would I be okay in Sel’s shoes? Would any of the guys? I can’t even imagine being questioned by reporters about my personal life and the insinuations that it’s affecting how I play. Watching Berg being drilled about every mistake we made on the ice was bad enough. Our captain was surprised that Sel didn’t respond to his text, but less so when he didn’t show up. Maybe I should’ve done more to encourage Sel to join us.

“Drink up, rookie, there’s more coming,” Makela encourages, his voice breaking my ruminations and bringing me back to the present.

“More?” I glance at the table covered in champagne bottles. “We haven’t even finished what’s here.”

“Welcome to the big leagues, baby!” Sorensen shouts and raises his glass.

I take another sip of my drink, but despite the buzz, I’m still not relaxed.

“So, what’d you think of your first time playing as a pro?” Berg adds. “Was it everything you expected?”

“I expected fast and hard, and fuck, it was all that and more. My body’s still vibrating.”

“Are we still talking about hockey?” Makela chuckles.

My face burns hotter than the atmosphere in this club, but thankfully it’s so dark no one can tell.

“It was more exciting than I imagined,” I continue. “The roar of the crowd is a lot, I mean, as a player, not a fan. Not sure I was prepared for that.”

“You’ll get used to it.”