Page 41 of Heated Rivalry 1
Price gave a thin smile. “It’s okay. I’ve read it before. It’s kind of just... I bring it on planes as kind of a comfort thing.”
Ilya could not figure this guy out. He was even taller than Ilya, and much bulkier, with shoulder-length red hair and a beard that made him look like a biker gang member. He could knock a guy out with one punch. Some of the toughest opponents in the league were scared to face Price in a fight.
“Is it the red hair?” Ilya asked. He didn’t understand Price, but he could at least try to help him calm down.“Anne of Green Gables?”
Price stared at him like he had no idea what he was talking about, and then he laughed. It was quiet and uneasy, but it was still a laugh. “Yeah, maybe.”
This was, Ilya was pretty sure, Price’s fourth NHL season, but he had played for three different teams already. He was quiet in the dressing room, scary on the ice, and clearly a nervous wreck on planes, so Ilya imagined he didn’t make friends easily.
“Are you like this every flight?” Ilya asked. He couldn’t imagine what that would be like. Price was definitely in the wrong line of work if he hated flying.
Price shook his head. “Not every flight. I mean, yes, I’m always nervous, but not always this bad.” His cheeks flushed, as if he hadn’t meant to even admit that he was more terrified than usual. They were en route to Montreal from Raleigh, North Carolina, which wasn’t a particularly long flight, but it had been a turbulent takeoff. Maybe that had been the difference. Ilyadidn’t really want to talk about it, and he figured Price didn’t want to either.
So he gestured toward his iPad. “Fast Five.Have you seen it?”
“Yeah. I think so. Is that the one with the bank safe chase scene?”
“Yes. Is the best one.” Ilya flipped down the table for the unoccupied seat between them, and moved his iPad onto it. He only had the one set of headphones, but he always had subtitles on. It helped to improve his English.
He handed Price the headphones, figuring he could use a fully immersive distraction.
“Oh, uh...” Price ran a hand through his bushy hair.
“Is okay. I will tell you if pilot says we are crashing.”
The joke was a risk, but it paid off. Price snorted and took the headphones. “Thanks.”
They watched the movie, Price listening and Ilya reading, and Price’s leg remained still for the rest of the flight. He even asked the flight attendant for a Coke, which had to be a good sign.
When Ilya got tired of reading movie dialogue, he stared out the window into blackness. He had, in truth, been trying to distracthimselfwith the movie, because heading to Montreal always put him on edge. It wasn’t nerves, it was...something else. Anticipation, maybe. He didn’t want to say excitement.
They would play tomorrow night, their second matchup of the season. Montreal had been in Boston for their season opener in October. Boston had won in overtime, and Hollander had been in a terrible mood when he’d shown up at the room Ilya had booked in the hotel down the street from where Montreal was staying.
Ilya liked it when Hollander was angry. He liked it when Hollander took out his frustrations on Ilya’s body. He liked him cursing him as he fucked Ilya’s mouth.
These were the kinds of thoughts that Ilya had been trying to distract himself from with theFast and the Furiousmovie. Because thinking about this fucked-up thing with Hollander made him feel pretty disgusted with himself. It also made him uncomfortably aroused, which only made him feelmoredisgusted with himself.
Yeah. Super fucking healthy.
“Roz, you awake?”
Ilya glanced up so see Cliff Marlow’s face peeking over the seat in front of him. Cliff was a year younger than him, a bit of an idiot, and probably Ilya’s best friend.
“No,” Ilya deadpanned.
“I’ve been talking to this chick in Montreal. We’ve been sending each other messages on Instagram for a couple of weeks. She’s hot as fuck. Check it out.” He thrust his phone into Ilya’s face. There was, indeed, a hot woman on the screen.
“Good job,” Ilya said.
“So she wants to meet up after the game tomorrow night. She’s hot for hockey players, and she said she could bring her friend. You want in?”
Oh, no thanks. I will be busy fucking Shane Hollander in a hotel room.
“We have a curfew tomorrow night. Early flight the next morning, yes?” Ilya reminded him.
“Yeah, I know, but...” Cliff looked wistfully at his phone. “I gotta see her. Maybe I can just...no. You know what, Ilya? I’m gonna be completely honest here: I’m probably going to break curfew. It’s not like I’ll miss the bus to the airport.”
“I am assistant captain, shithead. Do not tell me about your plan to break curfew.”
