Page 17 of The Trade Deadline
He cut himself off before he got too worked up. They were in practice, and Lars needed to focus. While he’d been accepted enthusiastically overall, he still wanted to prove he was worth the hype. During drills, he actually tried instead of going through the motions. When they did edge work with the skating coach, he didn’t even complain. He was a model player, exactly the type he’d been as a kid that made his coaches shower him with praise.
It bothered him a little that Brian matched him, move for move. He was technically better at skating and mechanics, though not as fast or agile and seemed a little less…creative? Confident? There was some intangible difference that Lars couldn’t pinpoint, something that gave him the edge when he and Brian went head to head. It was kinda fun, actually, but after the fifth time he beat Brian outright, he noticed the other forward’s brow furrow in frustration.
Oh.
When they were split into teams for a scrimmage, Lars decided to investigate a sinking suspicion about why Brian didn’t like him.
On the bench, he scooted over to where Jake Campbell—veteran right winter and current captain of the Blue Crabs (inexplicably nicknamed “Soups” by the team)—was chewing his mouthguard and watching their white team fend off a Power Play from team blue.
“Is Brian upset I took his spot on the first line?” he asked.
Jake’s face scrunched in confusion. “You mean RJ? First line?” A slight laugh. “He’s always been second or third. If he doesn’t like you, it’s got nothing to do with hockey.”
Second or third line? Weird. The other options for center that he’d seen were decent players but either young and still developing or old and ready to retire. Brian was a clear standout among them. In fact, everything he’d seen suggested Brian was one of the best players on the team, period. Anyone with eyes and any hockey sense could see it, but this wasn’t the first time he’d encountered casual resistance to the idea that Brian was a capable player.
“Why wasn’t he first line?” Lars asked. He hoped his accent hid his surprise.
Jake shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong. RJ’s great. Nicest guy in the world.” Lars ground his teeth. “But he’s…” He paused, apparently couldn’t think of the right word, and gave up. “He’s just not first line material.”
Jake was likely going to be on the top line with Lars, and yes, if he were in Jake’s position, he’d choose himself over Brian, too; that didn’t mean he wasn’t the best option pre-Lars. Whywouldn’tthey want Brian on their line?
Lars turned back to the game where Brian—“RJ”, he’d have to get used to that—was weaving in and out of the attacking Power Play unit, killing time more effectively than if he’d dumped it. He then managed to send a stretch pass to one of the other players hoping for a breakaway. On the resulting play, the winger got a decent shot off and the opposing goalie had to cover. It was textbook…and all because Brian was doing what he was supposed to.
Yet their teammates were banging the board and shouting at the winger and goalie for the awesome play. Even Brian, who skated over dutifully for the resulting face-off, fist bumped his winger and patted his shoulder, like the shot on goal was the most impressive part. When the Penalty Kill ended (successfully), Lars jumped the boards and stepped in front of Brian as he returned to the bench. Brian scowled and opened his mouth to say something, but Lars quickly cut him off.
“Nice job on that kill.” He patted Brian’s helmet. “Perfect pass.”
Brian stiffened, almost like he was angry. “Thanks,” he said gruffly. When he tried to move around Lars, Lars physically blocked him off.
“Really. It was a beaut. I see why they trust you on the PK.” He spoke as earnestly as he could, hoping his actual appreciation for Brian’s role on the team might soften the blow of another center in the pecking order.
Brian’s shoulders relaxed minutely. “I’m surprised they don’t have you on the kill.”
Lars’s chest constricted. Was this a real conversation?
“Me?” He laughed. “I’m garbage at defense stuff. They tried it in Portland and I always try to get a shorthanded goal and get my team burned. Can’t turn off the offense long enough. They’d rather go empty net than have me out, I promise.”
I’m not trying to take this from you.
“Oh.” And then, small and shy, he gave Lars a genuine smile. Not as bright and hammed up as he usually flashed, but it reached his eyes all the same.
Lars was wondering how he could keep this going (would he finally satisfy his curiosity enough to move the fuck on from obsessing?) when a whistle blew.
“Nilsson! Get over here!” Thompkins yelled. “Don’t make me give this face-off to Soups.”
“Please don’t,” Jake grumbled loudly, earning laughs from the team.
“Coming.” And then with a final look at Brian, he skated off, letting their shoulders brush as he went.
Chapter6
Ryan
After the lockerroom song battle, Ryan got confirmation that Lars 100% didn’t know him. It was actually kind of a relief, because it gave him some piece of control in the situation. He wasn’t the guy who’d had a one night stand with Lars Nilsson after his team had a shitty performance, and he wasn’t the guy whose former hookup was now on his team. He was a guy who knew a secret about his teammate that might help him gain an advantage. The advantage he chose to take? Amusing himself at Lars’s expense.
He hinted at Juniors in little ways, now secure that Lars would never make the connection. Once every few days, he’d slip in a question.
“Is your favorite color gold?”
