Page 13 of Lucky Shot
I head to my room and run through my shower to get the pool’s chlorine off me. While I don’t allow myself to admit it, I also use the shower to get warm again. I don’t bother drying off more than the dripping water so I’m not tracking footprints throughout the ship, but I know that it’s going to be hot outside.
So, with phone in hand, I head above deck. I’m surprised when I find that it’s completely deserted. Since this ship is still moving, I know this isn’t because everyone is in the water or on shore. I meander about until I find everyone crowded around the helipad. Like, seriously. They’re making a perimeter around something in the center.
I make my way to them and am surprised to find Noah laying on his back with Azure kneeling over him, painting him. With real paint.
It’s fucking impressive too. He’s painted a hockey jersey that falls to Noah’s hips and then down his legs are a strange yet hypnotic pattern of pucks and sticks and ice cracks. I’m slightly amused that the jersey isn’t that of Florida, where Noah plays. It’s Vegas, Azure’s team.
I didn’t realize they were a thing.
“Way to stake your claim, Azure,” I say with a smirk.
My comment causes Azure’s brush to pause and Noah to open his eyes. They’re wide in surprise.
“Oh,” Azure says and then tilts his head. “I’m more familiar with my jersey than his.”
“It’s not like that,” Noah says, rolling his eyes, though I don’t miss the way his cheeks heat.
“Right,” Max says, winking.
Noah huffs and closes his eyes again, shutting us all out.
“Sorry, man. I think it’s fucking sick,” I say. “Vegas just kind of threw me off.”
“Does it say your name across the back?” Oddny asks.
Azure sighs. “Yes.”
“Aww,” the crowd coos.
Noah’s eyes open and he glares at me again before closing them. I try not to laugh, but yeah, I can’t help it. Not that I doubt Azure’s reason. He’s a strange man. Slightly off-putting at times. But I don’t at all discount his claim that he was simply more familiar with his jersey than Noah’s. I get that. I wouldn’t be able to recall all the details of Florida’s jersey, but I can definitely tell you exactly what my Edmonton jersey looks like. Right down to where the stitching is.
We remain crowded around the two of them while Azure finishes up. Noah is covered in paint from the tops of his shoulders down to his ankles and wrists. Where his ‘sleeves’ stop is more of the same pattern that Azure made on his legs.
Finally, Azure sits back and sets his paintbrush down. “You should stay still while the last of it dries.”
Noah nods and doesn’t move. He looks almost angelic lying like this. His soft features and light hair. Motionless. Peaceful.
When he gets to his feet, we begin snapping pictures because honestly, it’s fucking amazing. Every detail of him is incredible.
“You sure you’re not an artist?” Noah asks as he scrolls through the pictures that Owen took on his phone. “This is really amazing. Even if you painted the wrong team on me.” He flashes Azure a grin.
Azure gives him a smirk and shrugs. “I’m sure about the artist thing and again, I’m sorry about the jersey. I hadn’t given it much thought. When you said to paint, it’s the only thing I could think of. What goes on a torso? A jersey!”
We all laugh at that, but… he’s not wrong. When faced with that kind of challenge and maybe a little nervous pressure, why not default to something you already know? Azure has played for Vegas for six years. He’s a stupidly impressive goaltender. I almost feel bad for the backup goalie because they rarely ever see ice time. Azure doesn’t have off nights.
“If I show you my jersey, think you can paint mine on me?” Gabe asks. “Also, I playrealfootball. Not hockey.” He winks at Azure while throwing Donahue and Oddny a smirk.
“Maybe,” Azure says. “I don’t know the first thing about either football, much less their uniforms. But maybe tomorrow. I need to stretch.”
“Can I book you after that?” one of the baseball players asks. Sylvester is a pitcher, I think. Though if there’s a sport I know nothing about, it’s baseball.
Azure’s eerie light eyes scan us. Noah is still posing for pictures in whatever angle he’s asked to. I won’t lie; I take several too. They’re just that fucking cool.
“All right,” Azure says. “I get paid in tips.”
“What did Noah pay you? I’ll double it,” Oddny says.
Azure looks at Noah. “$80 per inch.”
