Page 1 of Tempting the Teammate
ONE
Andrei
“What the fuck is going on?”Phoenix stormed into the locker room with an expression of utter horror. He was five minutes late, which made him the last person to hear the news.
The muttering from my teammates didn’t satisfy him.
“I’ll ask again, what the actual fuck is this?” He crossed his arms and lifted his chin, a winged creature tattooed on his neck seemingly growing before my eyes.
“We were hoping you’d tell us,” Griffin said, glancing at me for approval. A cold, steely gaze from me gave him what he needed.
Phoenix snorted. “Nobody told me shit.”
Another round of grumbling and groaning passed through the locker room as my teammates strapped their pads and blades. Griffin held his stick the usual way, which was to say he didn’t hold it at all but spun it between his hands.
Most of us had returned to Northwood yesterday or the day before. This was the first reunion of the new year and new season at the rink. Of the usual things you’d expect on such a day, there were few. Sure, we would warm up, feel the iceunder our skates, and scare a few freshmen with the weight of expectations.
Nobody expected three vans with camera crews, two producers, six boom operators, and an entourage of assistants to be parked by the entrance, clearly unloading their equipment for a purpose that inevitably involved all of us.
Phoenix stomped over to his spot and stripped his T-shirt off, tossing it on the bench. “Bet they’d have told me if I were Beckett Partridge,” he muttered.
I’d never met the former captain. Phoenix had taken over the captaincy two years ago, in his sophomore year. Leading the Arctic Titans in the shadow of someone as legendary as the entire Partridge family, as well as having been eviscerated by the Steel Saints last year, did little to boost Phoenix’s confidence. A film crew parked outside our door without his knowledge would only deepen the damage.
“And I’ll tell you this, Coach Murray never would have agreed to any of this without our knowledge,” he said.
“Perhaps not,” Coach Neilsen said, stepping into the locker room.
Phoenix’s eyebrows flattened over his eyes as his cheeks turned a little darker with embarrassment. “Sorry, Coach.”
Coach Neilsen wore a blue tracksuit with white stripes along the sides and a white T-shirt that was barely showing. He carried a large, flat tablet, having abandoned the signature clipboard in favor of a more contemporary device. The tablet allowed him to edit spreadsheets and tabulate scores with more flexibility. The fact that he was twenty-nine and still fairly new to this line of work completed his look. Not unlike Phoenix, Coach Neilsen worked against the collective memory of people like Murray and, lest it be forgotten, Nate Partridge himself.
“You’re alright,” Coach Neilsen told Phoenix, not taking Phoenix’s words personally. In fact, he was beaming. “I wouldhave liked to share the news myself before the crew arrived, but the universe plays tricks on us.”
I crossed my arms on my chest and drew a deep breath, reluctant to exhale just yet. This wasn’t going to be good news.
“Northwood’s Athletic Department picked you as the university’s flagship team, boys,” Coach Neilsen declared. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to help the department attract donations, raise your profiles for scouts, and continue promoting the Arctic Titans legacy.”
My jaws clenched harder with each point Coach Neilsen brought up. I decidedly refused to acknowledge the fact that my palms were growing wet with cold sweat. Cameras, microphones, a global audience. It didn’t sound good at all.
Griffin, on the other hand, wore his signature half smile, hazel eyes glittering as he dreamed of the opportunities laid out before us. He was born to be in the spotlight. And frankly, the spotlight didn’t deserve him. The quirked side of his lips formed a dimple in his cheek, and my heart beat ever so slightly faster before I rolled my eyes and looked away.
“Our Athletic Department has teamed up with NextPlay Media for a yearlong production of a documentary series featuring our team and our lives. And I’ll let Jen Harding, the producer on the series, take over from here.”
If Coach Neilsen was holding for applause, none came. A young woman with high cheekbones, brown hair tied in a tight ponytail, and a black blazer over a cream blouse stepped into the room. Whatever dislike I’d held on to in the heartbeats between her announcement and her appearance melted away. She had big, curious eyes, and I couldn’t force myself not to give her a chance.
“Hello, Titans,” she said in a naturally high-pitched voice. “As Coach Neilsen said already, we’re incredibly proud to say that NextPlay Media is developing a series about you. Fromyour wide recognition to the staggering number of former team members drafted by the NHL, NextPlay Media is excited to help build the next chapter in the story of the Arctic Titans.”
A few people murmured their approval, but I wasn’t quite yet sold.
Jen Harding continued in a more inspiring tone. “This show, which we are callingBlades of Northwood, will depict more than the games you play. It will follow your highs and lows, your friendships, your rivalries, your struggles, and your victories.” Then, as a few more heads nodded, she continued. “Participation is voluntary, of course, but we highly encourage as many of you as possible to take part in the project for various purposes, chiefly to further your profiles and the appeal among the scouts.” Jen looked around, then folded her hands. Her smile returned upon crossing Griffin’s beaming face. “While our technical teams prepare their crews and equipment and determine the main locations for the first season, my team will observe your drills and conduct interviews for all willing participants. The idea is that everyone remains authentic to their true self, while leaning into their strengths.”
Ah, I thought.There we go.
I’d seen a couple of docuseries about college football players. Some guys knew how to cut through the noise and cultivate a following. I wasn’t one of those guys. My focus was on my skills and on my relationships within the team. I couldn’t “lean into” my signature traits when I had none. I wasn’t a showman, an actor, or a dancing monkey. I was just some guy with a stick and a quiet passion for teamwork.
The first practice of the season kicked off ten minutes later with three producers sitting behind the boards and taking notes, photos, and videos with their phones. Coach Neilsen put us to work on the ice, warming us up with light skating and tossing before pushing us hard in small, dedicated teams.
I played side by side with Griffin. Coach Neilsen had seen us play last year and knew without a doubt that we belonged shoulder to shoulder. Sometimes, you could talk to a person without ever speaking a word. Sometimes, you knew what the other person was thinking with little more than a glance in their direction.
