Chapter Text
My first ever pre-game interview was...confusing. So many flashing cameras, and microphones, and questions being jumbled through. All asking how I was feeling (sick, but they didn't need to know that) I think I'd manage to utter something about 'trying my best' before scurrying back to the dressing room as fast as they would allow.
Olli's warning of not vomiting my first game may not have been enough as I feel the knots in my stomach churn again. Pasta salad from earlier threatened to make a reappearance. I try to grind myself into my lucky game day socks that are hidden underneath my regulation ones, I could feel a hole forming in the little toe that I stupidly hadn't sewn up yet. My knee was bouncing where I sat in my stall trying to listen to coach's speech. He was nearly finished I think - I probably shouldn't have zoned out so much.
"This is it boys, first one of the season, lets start it off right, yeh?" He addressed the room loudly. Around me the team shouted and banged their sticks on the floor in agreement. "As it stands, line one Jardine, Johnsson, Kinkaid, Persson and Kennedy. Rust in net." His decision is final and my head stupidly snaps up when he mentions my name. I'm starting. This is actually happening. My toes grip into the socks again.
"Right, over to you then Cap" He pats Jardine on the shoulder where he was standing next to him, though it looked a little funny considering he was at least a foot taller than coach in skates. Ryan steps forwards to speak next.
It had been awkward for almost 4 weeks now. After the embarrassing encounter in the dressing room I'd tried to avoid him as much as possible which was difficult considering Coach had decided to put us on the same line. On ice was fine, hockey is hockey, and I love hockey and we played surprisingly well together. Off the ice however, I'd somehow developed a runaway mouth that seemed to spurt out any incoherent thought anytime he was in hearing distance. I tried not physically cringe too much as I remembered a moment last week we'd been trapped on the bench next to each other while the staff fixed a problem with the ice. I'd asked him what his favourite colour was like a 6 year old and he'd looked at me like I'd grown two heads before muttering 'red'.
"You boys know I'm not one for words" a few light jeers went around the dressing room as he began. Jardine didn't speak a lot, to anyone really which made me feel slightly better about his disinterest in me, but not much. What he did seem to have though is their respect. It was clear that what ever he lacked in sociability he more than made up for in his captaincy and skillset. When he did speak, everyone listened and when there was a problem, he sorted it. When Brassard's car had broken down before practice, Jardine had given him a lift no questions asked. When two of the guys got into a disagreement on the ice, he stepped in hauling them apart. I couldn't help but watch the reverence and authority he held and hoped my staring at him could be passed off as paying attention to his speech rather than fantasising about how his stubble would feel if I kissed him.
"We've worked hard, we know what we're doing, just keep it tight and get some goals" it was short and sweet and he clapped his hands in finality.
We all strode towards the tunnel bouncing with energy, mostly it was excitement though I did glance at the bathroom one last time hoping I could keep the anxious knot down. I was at the back of the line but one, Jardine followed behind taking his place as captain. Before we left the dressing room I felt a hand come down hard on my shoulder and I glanced over.
"You'll be fine kid" I gaped at him stupidly for a second. It seemed genuine, it was the nicest thing he'd ever said to me, although the word kid still made my neck feel itchy.
"Th..thanks" I stammered out almost incoherently. Internally I face-palmed myself, he must truly think I'm a moron.
He nodded then gave me a shove toward the ice.
--
I sat on the bench out of breath, my first shift in the NHL, I'd spent less than a minute on the ice and my heart was hammering in my chest. The pasta salad was still firmly inside.
It had gone by so fast I barely even remembered it. I'm pretty sure I'd touched the puck at least twice much to the delight of the home crowd, but I hadn't been able to do much with it before it'd been taken by one of Pittsburgh's forwards.
It was so fast and so exciting and so Hockey. I loved it.
I tried not to grin too much lest the cameras catch me. Olli's knee was bouncing with adrenaline next to me.
"How's the stomach" he laughs knocking his shoulder into me.
"It's fine" I laugh back, it's not entirely a lie.
"you did great" he nods his head positively. "It's the hardest one to get through, first shift. The rest will be a breeze" he keeps nodding his head as if nodding enough will make me believe it.
I looked back at my parents in the 'family & friends' section. I'd taken my chance during 'Oh Canada' to seek them out. The huge crowd that was my family had taken the liberty of all coming to see my first game. All my sisters, grandparents, an aunt and two uncles.
They'd arrived yesterday and I'd spent the day showing them around Toronto after practice hiding as best I could from nosey fans wanting autographs. I hadn't got to seem them today though with all my energy focussed on the home opener so it settled the anxious knot in my stomach to see them all here. I turned back to face the ice, determined to get my head in the game, not wanting to disappoint the fans.
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He'd scored.
Of course he had.
Perfect little rookie scores his first ever goal in his first ever game. With all his family watching. A perfect little fairytale story, and everyone lived happily ever after. Perfect.
Whatever miniscule amount of warmth I'd grown towards him over the past month had disappeared and a small pitiful part of me deep down inside wanted to point out it was jealousy. That just made me grind my teeth harder - so deep I wondered if I'd bite through my mouth guard entirely.
I sat in my stall trying to put on happy face, we had won after all, I'd even scored a goal myself. ("Not to be outdone by the rookie" that small pitiful voice piped in again). So how come the annoying hot feeling rose in my chest every time I looked at the stupid short curls sweatily stuck to his forehead? He was aggravating.
'Give the kid a chance, Jardine. Who knows, you might even like him' Coach had laughed one day after practice. He'd put us on a line together. It had put a cold feeling in me. Two Stanley cups, captaincy, skills, all reduced to personal bodyguard. It didn't help that even off the ice Kennedy was kind of like an untrained puppy that wouldn't leave you alone. Everyone else seemed to love him. Slipped right into the group as easy as pie, something I'd also never been able to do. He liked to ask a lot of questions, sometimes I didn't know if I was inadvertently interviewing for something but he sure did like to yap. I'd given as many shallow, one word answers as possible but he liked to pry. There were certain things about my life that no one was privy to, it didn't seem to stop him from asking though.
"Celebration boys - Club Echo, be there or be a total fucking loser" Andre Hayden hollered through the changing room, it was met with more cheers.
It was mayhem around me and I knew I should be joining in, even after my post-game interview where I had to splurge some nonsense about being proud of the rookie so I didn't sound like a complete jerk.
"You coming, Cap?" Andre directed at me this time. The boys knew I never usually joined them on outings like this and I had half a mind to reject it again now but a strange niggling need clawed at the back of my neck.
"Yeh, sure" I blurted out before realising what I was saying. The words had slipped straight past my brain and right out of my mouth.
"AAYYEE CAP'S ON THE PROWL BOYS" Andre announced loudly to the room which was also met with cheering and someone slapping me on the back.
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Like most clubs, Echo was dark with thrumming music, I'm not sure what made this one special but had Andre insisted. It could possibly have something to do with the brunette bartender he'd been speaking to for half an hour. I neither liked not disliked clubs, I just didn't really see the draw of grinding up against sweaty strangers. Tonight was slightly different though, what I could see the draw of was grinding up against a certain person who was currently sitting across from me in the VIP booth we'd been given. He had been shooting me harsh looks all evening but my stupid brain couldn't seem to focus on anything but the way the strobe lights would catch the angles of his face. The way it would light up the tattoos that were peeking out of his tight black t-shirt. The way his muscled hockey thighs stretched out his jeans.