Page 1 of Scoring Zone
Chapter 1 - New Year’s Eve
Grayson
Nightlife in Vegas has an energy that’s hard to describe, but on New Year’s Eve, it’s wildly outlandish. The team chose a nearby VIP lounge to celebrate, and it’s part party and part carnival. If debauchery has a smell, they’ve perfected the scent and doused the place in it.
As the music pumps through the sound system, the bass pounds in my chest. My eyes immediately find Austin, my best friend and the starting left wing for the Enforcers. He’s only a few feet away, but tons of people separate us.
Last Halloween he dressed up as Captain America, and he suits the character well: tall, blond, built, gorgeous, and ready to help anyone in distress. The perfect typecast for a great man.
He lifts his shot glass for a long-distance toast. The cinnamon liquor slides down my throat, heating my insides on its way tomy stomach. The dancing and boisterous crowd has a sobering effect on me.
Austin is over his usual limit for a night. It’s not that I’m worried about him per se. But I’m tracking him so he won’t have next-day remorse. Austin hates drinking too much and feeling out of control.
New Year’s Eve is a notorious night of bad decisions, and I’m committed to keeping my best friend—the human equivalent of a heart emoji—out of trouble. It’s not hard to miss his appeal, but neither of us are into random hookups.
“To Benz,” Drake, the starting center, shouts, and everyone raises their glass. Benz, our backup goalie, not only played a shutout game, he achieved the nearly impossible goalie goal. Drake ordered bottle service in his honor. We’re fortunate that he’s splurging on a variety and not forcing us to drink Swedish vodka or schnapps.
“The twinning is in full effect and lookin’ good,” Caleb Benz, the man of the hour, sings as he waltzes over to Trevor and me. His grin is infectious on his round, cherubic face as his eyes travel over me before pointing to Austin.
“Nice fits,” Trevor mocks us, and I can’t blame him. He’s a fashion designer and engaged to our starting goalie, Patrik Liska.
Austin and I are both wearing light-blue button-down shirts and black pants. Very boring on a regular day but a fashion crime by Vegas standards. We were already on our way to dinner when we realized we matched, and I couldn’t change because, as the team’s trainer, I don’t own that many dress shirts and didn’t bring any extra for the road games.
Austin slides over to us, charmingly tipsy. It’s a good thing we had an evening game because it’s almost midnight and he’ll pass out soon.
“I don’t get how this happens,” I lament.
“You’re basic bitches, that’s why. I can give you some fashion tips,” Trevor barks out, and Liska promptly scoops up his petite fiancé and carries him away. They are complete opposites in terms of size and looks. Liska’s big and burly with a crooked nose, and Trevor is a pretty man with a sharp tongue, but they’re so happy it’s sickening.
“C’mon, captain, get your ass up here and dance with me.” Lucky, Drake’s boyfriend and our right winger, goads Austin onto a table with him, and he leaves me without a backward glance. Drake’s stiff posture and stern expression make him look like a Viking warrior standing guard over Lucky. Lucky loves to be the life of the party even after he’s quit drinking. People gravitate toward his easy smile and magnetic right dimple.
Benz texts with a concentrated purpose and walks away.
The dreaded sense of otherness creeps in and begins to take over. I hate it. I’m outside of myself, standing on the edge, observing their fun and their bond of brotherhood forged by long hours together, buckets of sweat, and shared experiences. Things I’m not a part of because I don’t truly belong.
My gaze locks on Austin and refuses to look away. His moves are jerky and don’t correspond to the beat of the music. It makes me smile, and some of the desolation gripping me fades. He’s the type of guy who’s so good-looking that bad dancing is more endearing than a turnoff.
I decline a drink and opt for water so my gloominess stays in check.
Leo, a goalie coach, strides into the VIP area like a man on a mission. The gray in his jet-black hair gives him a distinguished air. I understand exactly what his mission is. He told me in confidence he’s sleeping with Benz. In our conversation, he gave me the impression it’s more than sex. But since Leo’s son is on the team and is also Benz’s BFF, it’s messy.
I wish love could be easy.
I stare at the enormous peacock clock as the countdown to midnight gets closer, and I’m compelled to leave. All the team’s significant others are here to celebrate the new year. For me, it’s another year without someone special to kiss. It will be chaos, and I can kiss a half dozen drunken people, but it won’t mean anything. With my mood, the kisses would taste like sad desperation.
I need to snap out of my self-pity.
I’m lucky to have a friend like Austin. Someone who wouldn’t let my injury define me. Without him, I’d be another casualty of the game, working a dead-end job in my hometown and living with my parents. A total loser. He helped me find a purpose to rebuild my life.
Our friends start to couple up, and I have to leave before Austin notices. He’ll be fine without me. Security has kept random fans and puck bunnies away, so it’s just the team. He doesn’t need me.
“Hey, are you partied out for the night?” Austin knocks his shoulder against mine, taking me by surprise.
Too late to escape.
I muster a smile. He can tell when the otherness slips in and always distracts me until I feel a part of whatever is going on.
“Did Benz’s superstition get to you?”
