I switched over to my phone’s maps app and hit “go” on the previously loaded route to my new apartment. The directions filtered into my earbuds as I followed them without really taking in my surroundings. There was bound to be some team bonding exercise or ice-breaker shit that I’d be forced to participate in. I’d have plenty of time to learn about Lakeside then.
I heaved my gear so it sat more securely on my back, and dragged a modest-sized suitcase, which held everything else I had to my name. The combined weight had me wanting to get into my new room as soon as possible.
The August heat was brutal, and sweat had formed on my forehead and the back of my neck within a few short blocks.
When I pushed my too-long hair off my forehead with my free hand, my fingers brushed over the shallow cut from my dad’s ring, which had healed to a thin pink line, reminding meyet again of the reasons I had to be the most dedicated rookie the Hammerheads’ staff had ever seen.
In the whirlwind of the last few weeks since signing my contract, I hadn’t let myself think too much about how I’d have to give every last bit of myself to hockey to prove my worth.
Whiling away hours writing code on your computer isn’t going to happen now, buddy.
I ground my teeth at the idea that I wouldn’t be able to escape the pressures of now-higher-stakes hockey by losing myself in the orderly world of Java or Script. Hell, even the RPG gaming communities that I’d participated in since my early teens were beyond my reach without my setup.
As much as I hadn’t wanted to leave Mom behind, the contract was a huge step up from what I’d made in North Bay these past two seasons.
“You’ve arrived at your destination,” the robotic voice of my maps app informed me. Without realizing it, I’d autopiloted my way to my new home.
I sucked in a breath, not bothering to drop my bag for a rest as I stole a glance up at the midrise condo building that stood before me.
When an email had gone around saying two of the guys on the team were offering their third bedroom for cheap if anyone needed it, I jumped at the chance to save money on rent.
Even if one of them was the damn team captain. No pressure or anything.
My introverted brain started panicking at not only meeting new people, but also immediately living with them. But just like the rest of the things in my life, it had to be done.
I’d do it uncomfortably, though. My only hope in these types of situations was that the other person would be wrapped up in their own life and not notice my special brand of awkwardness.
I tapped out a message to my new team captain.
Caden: Hey Nathan, it’s Caden Kelly. You said to text when I got here?
Cringe. Why did I put it as a question?
Hawkins: Hey man, yeah. Just hit #303 on the intercom and I’ll buzz you up.
I entered through the generic lobby, noting the concierge desk had a sign that read, “Back in 5.” Having someone in the lobby to offer a slight delay if my dad ever showed up was a big reason I’d said yes to living with two strangers, other than the absolute steal I was getting on rent.
A quick elevator ride had me arriving at my new apartment. The door was propped open a few inches by a ratty-looking hockey stick—a fitting doorstop for a building dominated by hockey player tenants.
Thankfully, the hallways didn’t smell like a locker room. Hopefully, the apartment wouldn’t either.
Since there was no way in this or any other universe I would be the kind of guy to just walk in through an open door, even if it had clearly been left that way for my benefit, I rapped my knuckles against the heavy wood, loud enough to be heard but not hard enough to dislodge the doorstop.
“Buddy! Come on in!” A low, Eastern European-accented voice called from inside the apartment.
I’d been too caught up in trying to come to terms with this whole league change and move to properly research my new teammates. But I knew Hawkins hailed from the East Coast of Canada. Nova Scotia? New Brunswick? I’d have to check. Regardless, my new captain had the reputation of being a truly nice guy who mostly kept to himself. He escaped most of theshit-talking that made the rounds in the press and on social media in a way that I had only seen goalies do before.
The voice likely belonged to my other new roommate, Leon Kovac.
A sudden gulf formed between my throat and my gut as I tried to swallow down my nerves.
Just keep your head down. Show them you can be a good roommate. They’ll barely notice you’re here. You have nothing to worry about.
I repeated the inner mantra to try to calm down my raging nervous system. Fuck. The three months I’d lived back under my parents’ roof had unraveled all the threads of calm I’d cobbled together during my two seasons in North Bay.
Not everyone is Dad. You’re going to be safe here.
I fucking hated that I had to say that to myself. I was almost twenty-fucking-two-years old. It made me feel pathetic.
