I blink. “Of course not; you look good. Why?”
“You’re staring.” She crosses her arms, and a wave of embarrassment flushes through me.
“Sorry, It-it’s a nice suit–”
Her smile is blinding.Has it always been blinding? No, it can’t have been.“Thanks. Come on, I can hear your stomach growling from here, and we have a long day of interviews ahead of us.”
I scowl. “I hate interviews.”
She reaches her hand out. Each finger stretched and elegant, nails manicured, and I can see the callouses from working out on her palm. “I do too, but we can have fun today,” she says, waving her hand again.
I tear my eyes from it to look at her. She looks the part, the solid defence woman who will absolutely body you if you get too close to the net. Intimidating.
But fun.
I grab her hand.
“Sounds like a plan.”
It was a shitty plan. The interviews were draining, and it was the same twelve questions over and over and over again. We’re both at our limits, waiting for this to be over. “We’re meeting Kenz at seven for supper and then we’re going to go to this new club that she recommended,” Eloise says in my ear.
I have to ignore the shudder that is triggered because of her warm breath on my skin. There're interviewers and cameras everywhere, and I wonder if they think there’s more between us than the blooming friendship that is feeling more solid by the hour. Maybe friendships forged in the pain and suffering of interviews are even better than winning a game.
“Where are we going for dinner?”
“A small Italian place a couple blocks from here,”she says, “Kenz says it’s got the best Bolognese she’s had this side of the Earth.”
“Is that a brag that she’s been to Italy?” I mutter.
Eloise rolls her eyes but nods. “I love that girl to death, but she went to Italy one time as a teen and hasn’t let Blake or me forget it since.”
“She sounds insufferable,” I tease.
Eloise nudges me. “Sometimes, but the routine of it all is pretty comforting.”
I nod, biting the inside of my cheek. I’ve never been out of the country, minus travelling to the States for work. It wasn’t in the budget as a kid with the hockey expenses. I never asked though; it never felt right with what my parents were sacrificing to pay for my hockey.
I hope one day I can pay them back. “But we should be out of here soon, and then we can hustle back to the hotel, get changed and party.”
“What will we say when Lawson asks if we’re practicing over here?” I ask. “We didn’t work out this morning.”
“Dancing is exercise.”
I turn fully to look into her warm brown eyes; they look massive this close to me. “He won’t accept that.”
She gives me a teasing smile. “Well, we’ll be sore enough tomorrow, so it’ll be fine.”
“Right.”
“We could also practice learning more about eachother’s movements too.” She ignores the way I snort in response. “You know, like we get into each other’s space to learn how we move. Dance and skating are similar, right?"
“Right,” I deadpan.
“Ladies,” someone says with the clearing of a throat. I startle back, almost falling off the stool I’m sitting on. Eloise grabs my arm to make sure I can stabilize myself before we fall into a fit of giggles. It’s really not funny, but maybe we’re both so tired we don’t know how to function anymore.
“Excuse me,” he says again, and slowly, we start to straighten up. She still has her hand on my arm, and I need to make sure that I’m still breathing. “Can we start this interview?” he asks, snippy, and I nod.
Eloise looks like she maybe wants to snap at him for being rude, but I’d rather we get over this and done.
