Page 3 of Two for Roughing
“I could use a drink,” Howard said. He blinked up at Damir with big, blue eyes, clearly ready to move past the unbelievable hubris of chirping a man about a dumb cunnilingus-related Instagram comment, getting punched in response, and then turning up at the same man’s hotel room begging to get fucked on the off-chance he was interested in other men. How had he gotten Damir’s room number in the first place?
He crossed his arms. “I don’t drink.”
Howard rolled his eyes and began pulling on his clothes. “One of those guys, huh? Bet you eat nothing but boiled chicken and steamed broccoli during the season too?”
Damir’s nose wrinkled involuntarily. He’d tried one of the meal plan services his rookie year, thinking it would save him some time and effort cooking, only to learn that Americans thought “healthy” meant “overcooked and devoid of spices.”
“I’m Muslim,” he said. It wasn’t the primary reason he didn’t drink, but it was the easiest to explain.
Howard examined him blankly. “I thought you were Russian.”
“You are Canadian and annoying. People can be two things.”
Howard’s face fell. “Okay, jeez, I get it.” He headed toward the door. “I had fun. See you around?”
He slipped out, closing the door behind him with a decisive click, and Damir didn’t feel guilty for being so harsh.
He didn’t.
Howard would be fine.
Damir sat on the bed, shuddering at the state of the sheets. He lifted them gingerly and slipped in on the clean side. Then he lay on his side and turned off the bedside lamp.
His water bottle was still on the table.
He got to his feet again and walked across the dark room to drink a few sips, and since he’d already gotten up, he might as well check.
The well-lit corridor blinded him momentarily as he stepped from the darkness of his room. Once he’d gotten his bearings, Damir found the hallway empty.
Of course it was.
Howard would be fine.
Damir turned on his heel, went back to bed, and banished all thoughts of the Sea Lions’ rookie from his mind.
He rolled over, reached for his phone, and input Howard’s name into the search bar before he had even made the decision to look him up. Damir flicked past article after article about his stats and his on-ice presence, not finding what he was looking for until he followed the link to Howard’s Instagram profile.
The first picture showed him slouched on a couch beside the Sea Lions’ massive defenseman Chris Calabrese, grinning with a video game controller in hand.
He would be fine. He didn’t need Damir to take care of him.
Not that Damir could if he wanted to.
Which he didn’t.
Howard would be fine.
Chapter One
Cheryl Vanderbilt [dressed as Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz]: We’re filming this live at Tom Crowler’s house! Check out his beautiful back yard! [panning shot of a spacious garden decorated for Halloween with a dog and several children running around]
Cheryl Vanderbilt: And as you can see, Mike and I had some stiff competition for best costume, but we won it anyway.
Howie: [waves at camera in a Peter Pan outfit complete with tights and body glitter] Hey, Cheryl’s Insta followers! Vote in the comments and prove you have better taste than the heathens here! [he blows a handful of glitter at the camera while Cheryl laughs]
Top comments:
Olivia Starling: Great to see the Sea Lions having fun off the ice!
