Page 92 of The Trade Deadline
He looked adorably nervous. “Thanks to all the fans who voted for me. It’s really an honor to get to represent this team in Vancouver next weekend. I really appreciate it and I’ll try not to mess it up.”
More applause and hollers until the intern gave them a thumbs up and put her camera down. “And thankyoufor not swearing while we were live.”
“We were live?” someone asked. “Holy shit!”
The team laughed, the attention shifted away from Ryan as he sat back down.
“Congrats,” Lars said. Not a whisper, but quietly enough that it was just for them.
“Thanks.” He still seemed a little shell-shocked. “You don’t mind me tagging along on your weekend in BC, do you?”
Lars raised an eyebrow and Ryan huffed a laugh.
“Yeah, dumb question.”
* * *
If it weren’t absolutely necessary that they win as often as possible to keep competitive for a wild card spot, Lars might’ve been tempted to dial down his effort. For the first time since his rookie season, he was distracted and eager to get to the All Star game, and everything else seemed a secondary consideration. Most players who bowed out of the All Star weekend did it to avoid injury; in a strange twist, Lars was worried he’d get injured and miss the weekend.
A weekend with just him and Ryan.
…and dozens of other NHL players. But oh well. They’d be expected to be glued at the hip as teammates, and Lars would definitely take advantage. He’d get to see firsthand as Ryan got the praise and recognition he deserved. He was already calculating how many other centers would attend for the Metro Division, and if they could maybe gerrymander the lines so they were out together during?—
“Are you even listening?”
Lars blinked back to reality. Right. They were in his apartment, talking about…something. Dinner, maybe?
“Yes,” he lied.
Ryan shook his head. “Well, on the off chance youweren’t,” he said, “they sent us our flight info for Wednesday. We’ll get in late and we each have interviews early Thursday and the opening ceremony stuff is that evening. That’s probably when we’ll get the details about our events?”
He said it like a question, probably because he’d never been to one of these things and Lars was supposed to be the experienced one helping him out.
“Yeah, and we’ll have a big dinner with everyone but mostly with our team. Does it have our hotel info?”
“You really didn’t hear anything, did you?” Ryan teased. “I’m 301. You’re in 443. Should I be offended I’m on a lower floor?”
Lars shrugged. Normally he’d only ever seen his own room and had no basis for comparison. He suspected they were all basically identical, though. “We’ll just see which room is nicer and use that one.”
Ryan’s grim face gave his pause, and his heart lurched.
“You don’t want to share a room?” Lars asked. Maybe he’d taken it for granted, but since they’d finally hooked up, it was never a question of “if,” only “where.” It hadn’t occurred to him that this would be different.
“Is it a good idea?” Ryan looked genuinely worried, all his excitement about the weekend long gone. “There’ll be a lot of players, and don’t some of them bring their families?”
Fuck, he was right. “They do,” he acknowledged.
“So there’ll be a lot of people there at the hotel. Would make it hard to avoid notice.”
Lars’s shoulders slumped. It was definitely a lot more hectic than team trips, and not everyone was as chill as the Crabs seemed to be about this sort of thing. Lars had the first hand experience to prove it, and going back into that world should’ve madehimthe cautious one.
“Not impossible,” he said, then let out a sigh. “You’re right, of course. It’s too big of a risk.”
Ryan seemed deflated by the agreement. “I was hoping you’d tell me I was wrong.”
“I wish I could. We can play it by ear, and if we think it’s feasible?—”
“More like if one of us gets horny enough.”
