Page 3 of The New Guy
“Good tip.” I flag down the bartender again, and order the nachos.
Living large tonight. Chips for dinner!
It’s a start.
TWO
Hudson
Okay,yup. I probably made that awkward. A really cute guy checked me out, and I panicked.
Guys don’t usually hit on me. Especially not inthisbar. His smile, though? Caught me totally off guard. Made me forget for a minute all the reasons why I’m supposed to concentrate on hockey.
Only hockey.
Still, I sneak another look in his direction to try to figure out why he’s so distracting. Dark blond hair. Tight T-shirt reading Hank’s Gym, and muscular arms that have probably spent some serious hours in Hank’s Gym, wherever that is. He’s not bulky, though. Lean muscle, nicely defined chest. Blond hairs down his forearms.
He laughs suddenly, and I feel it in my groin. “Did you see that? Oof. So embarrassing.”
My eyes flick back up to the TV in time for the replay. And, yeah, things are not going well. Castro got stripped of the puck by a Boston D-man, and Silas had to dive for the save.
It’s chaos up there, but my eyes still turn back to their new favorite place. The world is full of attractive, toned men, and I usually don’t bother staring at them. My neighbor is a total hottie, though. And just for a moment, I allow myself to imagine how it might play out: I buy him a drink. We watch the game. And then I invite him over for a little Tuesday night stress relief.
That’s just a fantasy, though. I’m humoring myself, because it’s been a bad day. Honestly, a bad year. And it’s barely February.
The only reason I’m sitting here at all is because the Bruisers left me behind to go play Boston. The medical staff sent me to a specialist today to try to diagnose the pain and swelling I’ve had in my hip.
Luckily, the doctor said it’s just bursitis. But it’s sidelined me at an awkward time. Four weeks ago I was minding my own business in the weight room in Chicago. I’d had a recent string of bad games, and I’d been trying to stay positive and work hard.
But then? In my sweaty T-shirt, I’d been summoned to the GM’s office. And I’d known exactly what was happening.Here we go again,I’d thought as the big boss quickly thanked me for my service and sent me off to pack for a flight to New York that very evening.
I’d been traded. For a third string goalie and a first round draft pick.
Trades happen. You’re not supposed to take it personally. But I do. This was my fourth trade in five years. That’s a very high number.
Getting traded is very disorienting, and super stressful. So it’s no big surprise that I’ve been struggling on the ice in Brooklyn, too. I’m just not used to my teammates yet.
Tweaking my hip was just the latest indignity. So here I sit, watching my own damn team on TV, playing without me. So humiliating. And I can’t even watch this at home, because someone is watchingFrozenon the other side of my wall, and singing along at the top of their lungs. I couldn't even hear the damn game.
“Maybe this is the wrong bar to say so,” says the hot guy beside me. “But Brooklyn looks a little shaky tonight.”
My loyalty is a reflex. “Notthatshaky.” Except they do look skittish. “My name’s Hudson, by the way,” I add for no good reason.
“I’m Gavin,” he says, offering his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
And, shit. There’s that smile again. Hot like a summer’s day. His eyes are gray, and they crinkle in the corners when he smiles. His handshake is pleasantly firm.
Something crackles between us again. When he holds my gaze a little too long, I can’t seem to make myself look away.
But then he lets go, just as Pete approaches with two plates. “Food, boys.” He slides them onto the bar at the same time, as if we’re dining together.
And I guess we are. After the game, though, I’ll get out of here. I’ll go straight home and watch some video for our upcoming game against Minnesota.
Eyes on the prize, Newgate.I remind myself.Stay the course.
I pick up my fork and cut into my burger patty, which is resting on a bed of salad greens. If my new friend Gavin thinks my no-carb dinner is weird, he doesn’t say so. He just crunches into a cheesy chip with a sigh of happiness.
It’s a nice sound, too. And my rebellious mind wonders what other sounds I could get him to make.
