Page 19 of Scoring Slater
Slater took off, speeding through the first half of the course in less than five seconds. His skilled handling of the puck showed that he was much more than just a fighter. The guys around Noah leaned forward and stood up for a better view. Pride filled him, Slater deserved the recognition.
He won by a solid three seconds.
They came face to face moments after Slater finished a media interview. Noah reached out to touch his friend before quickly pulling back his hand. "Congratulations. You were really moving out there."
The tentative smile killed him. "Thanks. I'm sorry you didn't win."
He shrugged. Disappointment was a distant memory. "We all can't have everything we want."
"Don't I know it." He glanced at the small group of players milling around center ice. "I have to go. They're taking pictures of the competition winners."
Most of the other players were leaving the ice, making plans for meeting up with friends and family. Noah had no reason to stay. "I guess I'll see you later."
Slater closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His fist knocked against the outside of his thigh several times before those blue eyes blinked open. Then he turned and skated toward the group.
Sitting at the middle of an otherwise empty bench, Max cupped his hands around his mouth and called out, "Let's move it, Knoxie. We gotta get you back for the auction."
The auction. Where Slater would strut his stuff and probably meet someone amazing who would sweep him off his feet.
Noah slowly skated past Max and walked down the tunnel. He needed to find another thing to do with his evening rather than stay in the hotel while Slater ended up with someone else. The very thought labored his breathing and made the walls close in. He had to get away.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Time was ticking away. Slater rushed through the fastest shower of his life. Getting waylaid by fans in the lobby had cost him half an hour. Only fifteen minutes remained until he had to be in the Atlantis room with the other bachelors.
Some of the bachelors would be wearing tuxedos. Others, like him, had planned on a well-tailored suit. But as he dried his body, his gaze landed on the white button-down shirt with navy collar, cuffs, and buttons hanging behind the extra suit he'd packed as a backup. Noah's shirt. A part of him, deep down that apparently was a glutton for pain and misery, wanted to wear it.
Ever since that awful morning, he hadn't been able to take a complete breath with the weight of the small village that had planted itself on his chest. Not spending time together was odd and awful. Two days of anger and sadness twisting his insides felt like two years.
He didn't see a way past it. They'd have to do something, though, because he couldn't live like this.
Screw the suit. He pulled on dark jeans, faded at strategic places. Black leather boots. And that shirt. The material hugged his arms and torso. Finger-combing his hair, he inspected himself in the mirror. Not bad. The shirt highlighted his muscles and the navy blue looked good with his hair.
He took a selfie and posted it.Could I be the bachelor for you? If you're in Chicago, come down to the Windward Way and bid on me and the other guys. Let's raise a lot of money for charity.
Wondering about who might bid, and worrying about not getting a bid at all, he made his way to the Atlantis room, stopping along the way to pose for a picture with anyone who asked. The fans deserved to see the best side of him. He could bury his feelings for the next few hours.
The Atlantis room looked as it had the previous night during rehearsal, except much more dressed up. White tablecloths covered a sea of large, round tables. Each held centerpieces with white, gold, and rainbow-tinted flowers. At the front of the room, they'd added an actual stage complete with a catwalk leading from it. A large screen hung over the stage, ready to show off the twenty bachelors. Lights were everywhere, highlighting the stage, catwalk, and overhead.
He wandered deeper into the room. Tuxedo-clad waitstaff circulated the room with fancy hors d'oeuvres and glasses of champagne. He helped himself to both and chatted with some of the bachelors and hotel employees.
A skirmish in the middle of the room caught his gaze. Two of his fellow bachelors were fighting over the last shrimp on a waiter's tray. Isaiah Blake and his cameraman from the Hockey Network stood nearby, capturing the friendly scuffle. Slater moved fast. He swooped in and grabbed the tasty bite. Chewing the perfectly sautéed piece, he angled his phone high and took a photo with the players wrestling in the background, and posted it with the captionfood fight.
Lips twitching, Isaiah shook his head. "Tell me you did not just post that."
"You know I did." Behind him, the players were complaining, followed by laughter from everyone watching the scene. "Can't talk now, guys. I've got an interview with Isaiah." Slater grinned as he pulled Isaiah into a hug. "Good to see you, man."
"You, too."
From behind him, one of the guys called out, "We're watching you, Knox."
Slater blew a kiss at the two men shaking their heads. More laughter came from the crowd. He'd buy the guys a drink later to make up for it.
He turned back to Isaiah. They'd met a while ago through Leo. Isaiah had done segments and commentary for some of the local stations in his area, but this was his first shot working with the Hockey Network. "So, you got a shot at the big time, huh?"
"Yep. If people respond well, it could possibly lead to more."
Slater hoped so. Isaiah was amazing at his job. On top of that, his charity, Hockey Included, helped bring hockey to underserved communities. A great man and a great cause. "Cool."
