Page 5 of Puck Me Twice

Pulling myself further out of sleep, I stand and stretch and dress and steel myself for another day with too many people. As I head down to the team room for breakfast, I see a few guys eyeing me suspiciously. Or is that my hyper paranoia?

Brad’s words ring loud in my head as I fill a plate and find a seat. Usually, I sit by myself. I like sitting by myself. I can read the news on my phone—or rather, check the stats on last night’s games, update my fantasy football roster, check in on Rupert’s camera, scroll mindlessly through social media.

On the plane, I sit alone. On the bus, I sit alone. Everywhere I go, I’m alone. That’s how I like it. That’s how I want it.

Instead, I find myself looking at the empty space beside MacGregor. He’s hunched over his plate, his elbows cast out to the side as if to ward off the other guys.

Across the table are Jenkins, a second-year player, and McKittrick, the older veteran who spends more time in the press box than on the ice. Lewis, who sat silently with us last night, is across the room with the other goalie. It’s rare to see them apart—I wonder what was up last night.

MacGregor lifts his eyes to mine and he nods, so I take the seat beside him, careful to watch his wayward elbows.

My skin feels like it’s going to crawl out of my body. I’m itchy and sweating, even though it’s freaking freezing in here, and my heart is pounding like I’ve just tried to beat an impossible icing call.

I’m trying.

Pulling out my phone, I check on Rupert and then dig into my breakfast. It’s the standard hotel fare, and it’s not particularly good, but there’s not much they can do about that. It’s part of the routine.

After breakfast, we head to the arena. Warm up, stretching, morning skate… it’s what we do. There’s a familiarity to it no matter which city we’re in.

On the bus, I sit by myself, but that afternoon at lunch, I find myself taking the seat beside MacGregor again. Until he complains, I’ll be stuck to his fucking side like glue, and then I’ll find someone new to stalk.

His brows lift. “You got the message, then?”

I shrug. “Guess so.”

Hiding a smile, he shakes his head and laughs. “Cool. I’m down with that.”

I can’t tell if he’s making fun of me, or if he thinks I’m in on the joke. I’ll pretend it’s the latter. I don’t think he would be deliberately mean. Sometimes I wish I could understand people better.

three

. . .

Vanessa

It’s always nice when the team comes back home. They’ve been on an extended road trip to start the season, and even though I like having the training facility virtually to myself, it does get lonely when there are only a few people in the building instead of the usual hundred and fifty players and support staff.

Jacky comes back into the office talking on her phone. From the sickly saccharine tone of her voice, I know already it’s a vendor. And from the look on her face, they’re about two words away from being eviscerated.

I hope I’m here to watch it. Jacky is the sweetest person except when she’s hangry.

A few minutes later, she pops into my cubicle eating a lobster roll.

“I need a favor,” she says.

“Sure. What do you need?”

“Can you run down to the equipment room and get this signed by the new guy?” She hands me a packet of papers. “I’m on hold with the Austin hotel. They’re saying there’s an issue and⁠—”

“I’ll take care of it,” I tell her easily. “Standard paperwork?”

She nods. “Yeah, he came over from Seattle. Seemed nice enough.” Jacky shrugs. “Cute, too.”

I roll my eyes. She thinks all of the male staff is cute.

“You going to ask him out?”

Her loud laugh echoes in the office. “Yes. Definitely,” she deadpans.