Page 33 of Facing Off
His stats are rattled off. Everyone is both impressed and thoroughly confused, wondering why one of the best players in the league turned down the chance to play on Team Canada.
“They offered him the role of captain,” one woman in a blazer says. “It’s what every hockey player dreams of when they’re a kid. It’s a huge honor, so why did he turn it down?”
“His rep isn’t commenting, but I wonder if it has to do with the performance of the Vancouver Wings lately. They’ve gone from being one of the best teams in the league to not making the playoffs last season. What a mess. I mean, as captain, a lot of that falls on him to fix.”
“I still think Adrian Hughes could have played for Team Canada. There’s no reason for him to turn that kind of chance down. Not when he’s one of the most talented players this sport has seen. He’s a game-changer. Our country needed him, but he said no?—”
The debate drones on, but I’ve tuned out.
All I’m thinking about is how he’s here, in the city. And that I have his number because when we first met, he used to message me randomly.
Most of what he’s sent over the years has been random and likely bulk forwarded to all the fuckable entities stored in his phone.
HUGHES
Another great day in Vancouver. If you want to go for a walk, I’m free!
That was followed up with a shirtless selfie of him in sweatpants and a backwards baseball cap.
Trip to Paris with me? No questions asked. I’ll take you dancing!
That one was oddly specific as it was followed up with multiple ballet emojis.
HUGHES
About to get on the ice! Will you cheer me on, darling??
Later that same night:
I’m sad!!!!! You didn’t come to the game.
And the last message he sent me.
I should move on, shouldn’t I?
Clearly he sucks at texting, sending break-up texts to the wrong person. Regardless, I’m staring at his number now, swearing in my head.
Don’t even consider it, Sonya.You don’t need anyone, let alone him.And even if you did ask, it’s not like he’d come.Not after what happened at the studio and how you snapped at him to go away.
“How far is this person?” Madame Kozlova wonders.
“I might miss dinner at my parent’s house at this rate,” complains Nina. She glances at Madame Kozlova and quickly clears her throat. “But of course I’ll stay longer and support Sonya while I can, because that’s what a good leader does.”
She goes on, talking about howshe’srising to the occasion, coincidentally connecting that to all the traits a principal dancer also has.
Meanwhile, I’m freaking out, wondering how to get out of this situation. I’m still thinking there has to be a wayaround this, when randomly, my thumb—hovering over the call button—moves.
It’s the barest moment of accidental contact.
But my phone is dialing Adrian Hughes. I’m calling him.
Fuck!
And he answers before I can stab my screen to end the call.
14
ADRIAN
