Creed shakes his head and shrugs. “Dunno. However, so many of the best players in the league are LGBTQIA+. I think that says a lot.”
“And Max was voted in,” Ethan says. “Also says a lot. Especially after everything he’s been through.”
“Max Latham is great player, he should be here,” Link insists.
“I agree,” Ethan says.
The first order of drinks arrives and as soon as I take a sip, the burning liquid down my throat makes me shiver. I can feel my skin heat as it always does with the first few sips of anything alcoholic, be it a wine cooler or a shot of whiskey, but following that first heat, my body relaxes, and I enjoy myself.
I’m not big on social engagements. Being an introvert means I talk to people I get close with and, while I’ll talk to people who talk to me, I don’t voluntarily get involved in conversations. When the table fills and I’m surrounded, I enjoy the meal as I listen to everyone else.
It’s a good time and I’m glad I went. I definitely wouldn’t have liked it much if I didn’t have my teammates here too. Hell, I’m more convinced now that I’m here that the moment reception told me I was sharing a room, I’d have turned around and gone home had my friends not been here to talk me down.
Okay, no I wouldn’t have. Because I would have let the team down. But had Ethan not been invited, I’m positive I’d have declined. This is far too many unfamiliar people. Far too many people that I constantly have to pretend around.
As it inevitably does, the conversation eventually turns to personal lives and they’re all talking about wives and girlfriends and shit. I sit resolutely quiet, balancing between nodding along to their conversation and trying to be invisible so they don’t ask me.
Lying has gotten easier. I hook up when I’m interested. Otherwise, I’d rather just play hockey right now. When really pressed, I have flings in the summer to pass the time. Some pretty girl I pick up on the beach or something.
Thankfully, I’m believable enough and the conversation moves on, and I’m feeling good by the time we get back to the hotel room. My belly is full, my chest is warm, and I’m less stressed than I had been.
Until I step into my room and promptly walk into the wall with absolutely zero reason to, I realize that maybe I’ve had one too many drinks. I’m not drunk, but I am tipsy. Since I don’t drink often, it’s obvious when I am.
Shutting the door and then tugging on the handle far too many times than necessary to make sure it’s good and latched and won’t just swing open, I turn for the room and stop. It’s dark. My heart races when I think maybe I’m not alone.
I tiptoe further in, which is a fail since that’s more coordination than I have right now, and practically fall over our bags. If Lo’s asleep, he’s awake now. But when I look up, the bed is empty. Only rumpled at the very sides where we’d been sitting earlier.
Taking a breath, I grab my carry on and head into the bathroom. Since I didn’t take a shower once we got here to get the airport off me, I turn on the water and then stand underneath with my eyes closed for far too long.
By the time I step out and wrap a towel around my waist, I feel less tipsy. Less sluggish. Now I’m just looser. More relaxed and optimistic. This will be fine. I’m not sure why I was worried at all.
I brush my teeth and then step into clean underwear. That’s where I pause because that’s all I brought to sleep in. The shorts I brought aren’t the kind that would be comfortable in bed. Wrong material. Far too thick, with no give.
My options are few. I could try Lo’s idea and demand that the hotel staff go get me some bed clothes. This is their fault that I’m faced with sleeping in my underwear with a strange man in my bed. A very hot strange man.
Peeking out the bathroom door, I look around the room. It’s just as I left it. No more lights on. No movement. No sound. I’m still alone.
If I quickly climb into bed, then it’s not a big deal. He won’t know. I can sneak out in the morning and get dressed before he even wakes up. Decision made, I close my bag and shove it into the closet before hurrying into bed and under the covers.
A sigh escapes and I close my eyes. With any luck, I’ll be passed out before he gets here. Then I won’t have to face him at all.
Luck is not my friend this trip. No sooner do I hunker down under the blankets than I hear the beep of the door and the lock click. My eyes snap open and my breath freezes in my lungs. The door opens, then closes. I hear the locks click into place and then his shadow walks further in. He pauses, so he’s nothing more than a black mass with the light of the bathroom behind me.
I should have turned off that light.
“You awake?” he asks, voice quiet.
I nod. Realizing he probably can’t see it, I answer, “Yeah.”
“Cool. I locked up.”
“O-okay.”
Maybe I imagined it, but I think he might have smiled. He turns away and disappears into the light. I hope he hurries and comes back.
Oh no. No, no, no. Maybe the drinks were a bad idea. I say things when I feel loosey goosey like this. Bad. Idea!
CHAPTER 4
