Page 3 of Hockey Player Seeking Fan

I lean back against the locker and sigh before taking a furtive glance at my watch.Coach has been going on for the last thirty minutes about how important the next game against the Rangers is, as if we all don’t know.

“I have places to go and beds to fill tonight.” Elliott waggles his tongue, and I try not to snap at him. I need to remember what it was like to be the rookie. Young, impressionable, rich, and trying to impress. “Not that Coach cares about that.” He chuckles, his eyes searching mine for some sort of support. “So, what are you up to tonight?” His eyes are hopeful, as if he’s hoping I’ve got an orgy planned with a bunch ofPlayboymodels. There was a time when I also delighted in seeing how many women I could get, but that was in high school and the first years of college. Now that women flock to me so easily, it is no longer a challenge. No longer fun. And I like to believe that I’m slightly more mature than I used to be. Though I still kept up the playboy image for the press. I have an image to protect, after all. And the hockey star bedding women keeps me in the news and keeps me booking product deals that are slowly building up my mini empire.

Elliott’s a rookie, and he looks up to me like I’m the epitome of what he could hope to be as a hockey player, which, in all modesty, I suppose I am. I’ve been MVP of the league for the last couple of seasons and am the most well-known hockey player in the country. Even people who don’t follow hockey know who I am: Tyler Kane, ice hockey player extraordinaire.

What most people don’t know is that ice hockey is not my first love or my passion. If I could spend my days toiling however I wanted, I would be an oil painter. At least, that’s the career I’d wanted when I was younger. Art teachers had raved about my talent, and I’d enjoyed standing in the fields and painting the old red barn or stalks of corn. Sometimes I’d even get a cow to cooperate for a still life. I often think about those days. But ithadn’t been art that had taken me out of Iowa, but my skills on the ice.

One winter, when playing a casual game with friends, I’d been scouted, and from there, my life had been laid out. And now here I am, in New York City, in a locker room filled with forty other guys who lived and breathed hockey just like I did. I don’t hate the game. In fact, it’s my entire life right now. And rightly so, as it supports my mother and sisters so well. There are only small moments when, sometimes, I think about what life would be like if I’d taken another path. I don’t let those moments last. There is no point in thinking about the shoulda, woulda, couldas.

“Dude, I met this girl last night,” Elliott continues and spreads his hands out, making an hourglass shape. If he doesn’t make it as a hockey player, he could have a future in acting. “A real snack.”

“Oh, yeah? Nice.” I stare at him, biting my tongue so I don’t comment on his word choice. Since when are women considered snacks? I don’t know that much about him, but he doesn’t seem the sort of guy who is looking to settle down. “Someone that you feel has long-term potential?” I ask him.

He stares at me like I’m crazy and bursts out laughing. “Oh, hell no. Long-term, who? She was, like, in her college sweater with these big, goofy-ass glasses. But I could see beneath it all—with some makeup and sexy clothes, she’d be hot. I’ve always had a fantasy of turning a nerd into a stripper. You know what I mean? I mean, not a literal stripper or anything. Though I wouldn’t mind if I got her on a pole.” He winks. “My pole.”

I just stare at him, and he starts laughing, not realizing that I’m not really feeling what he has to say. He sounds like an immature high school guy who’s never been laid before. He pauses as he realizes I’m not laughing.

“So, yeah, I got her number, and I think I’ll give her a call when we get out of here. I don’t know her, but she seems like she’ll be quite eh...fun. First date, I’ll be all nice and sweet. Second date, I’ll close the deal. Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am, and we’ll both be happy.” He starts dancing, and I just shake my head. I’m not going to police his activities, but I don’t approve of his methods. He’s the sort of guy I would ban my sisters from dating.

“Look, Elliott…” I sigh as I don’t really want to get involved. “I don’t know this woman, but I really think that—” My phone beeps at that exact moment, and I look down at the screen. It’s my youngest sister back in Iowa. I’ll have to give her a call later.

“So, are you seeing anyone?” Elliott asks eagerly, trying to see my screen.He really needs some training. I shake my head and shudder. The question is laughable.Has he done no research on me? Rookie.

I am the sort of man who will never be in a relationship, at least not a serious one. Not because a part of me doesn’t sometimes crave it, but because of my DNA. Genetically, I feel like I’m not predisposed to be a good husband. My father, my grandfather, and my great-grandfather had all been jackasses who’d left their wives and kids penniless, heartbroken, and depressed. I don’t want to do that. Not that I think I would consciously do it, but I feel like maybe there is something in my genes that would kick in at some point. I mean, I’ve never really even been in love. Never met a woman I could see forever with. And I’m okay with that. I’ve been blessed in other ways.

“Hey, Tyler. You catch that?” Coach shouts as he heads towards us, a scowl on his face. I nod my head vehemently in response and lean back into the locker.

“Of course, Coach,” I shout back, grinning. “We got the next game. Don’t worry about it.”

“Uh-huh.” He glares at me. He knows that I wasn’t paying attention, but he also knows that once I’m on the ice, no one can stop me.

“Can we go soon?” I look at my watch again. “I’ve got plans.”

Coach sighs. “Fine. Good practice tonight, guys. But I need you all to come in tomorrow and give it an even better?—”

“We’ve got you, Coach,” Elliott says, jumping up. “I’ve got a date tonight. Or at least, I hope I have a date.” He grins. “Let me hit her up now.”

“Really, Elliott?” I say, grabbing my duffel bag and heading towards the showers. “Leave the poor girl alone.”

“If you could see this perfect nerd, you would understand why I can’t do that.”

“Okay,” I say, shrugging. It is none of my business.

“What do you have planned tonight?”

“I’m meeting up with a friend of mine and his brother.”

“Oh, cool. Anyone I know?”

“I don’t think so. He’s not in sports.”

“Oh, well, maybe I’ll join you guys for a drink, if you don’t mind, while I wait for my lil’ theater baddie.”

“Umm, I’ll check with Wes and Miles to make sure it’s okay, but it shouldn't be an issue,” I say, even though I don’t really want to hang out with Elliott tonight.

“Sounds good. Oh, shit. I forgot. I have to go pick up my dry cleaning.”

“So, why don’t you hit me up later. And then we’ll chat, and you can see where I’m at.”