Once again, leaving me with these swirling thoughts that I have no idea what to do with.
Chapter Seven
NOAH
“You guys up for going out?” Bode pops up between the seats as the bus pulls into the parking lot of the arena.
“Bode, it’s almost ten,” I tell him.
“So? You heard Coach—optional morning skate tomorrow because we won back-to-back. That deserves to be celebrated, Fields.”
It’s weird hearing him call me Fields. For so long with the Black Diamonds, I was always Strawberry. Did I hate it then? Yes. Now, I miss it. I miss the familiarity of the team and guys. They became a second family to me.
Something that still feels like it’s missing here since I was thrown into the deep end with only a few weeks before our season ended last year.
“C’mon, man. You can’t say no.” Dax tugs a baseball hat over his head, getting ready to head off the bus. Being one of the newer, faster players we have, the fans in Nashville love him. Whenever we go out, he tends to draw a lot of attention.
Considering how shy he is? He isn’t a fan of it.
“Aren’t you guys tired?”
Having just gotten back from a stretch of preseason games on the road, the very last thing I want to do is go out and hang with the guys.
Maybe this is why I haven’t bonded with any of them, I chide myself.
“I’m out.” Marcus hefts his bag over his shoulder before fishing out his keys and jogging down the aisle of the bus once it comes to a stop. “I’ll see you guys later.”
“Okay, how come he doesn’t have to come out?” I whine.
“Because he has a family to get home to,” Bode points out.
“So, because I’m single I have to come?” I ask Jasper.
“Yes. Even I’m going out, so you can’t say no.”
“Ugh. Fine,” I grumble.
“Flounder. You in?” Bode calls back to Graham.
He shrugs a shoulder as he bounds off the bus. “I wouldn’t mind going out. If you’re buying.”
“Cheap ass.”
“I’m happy to stay at home.”
Bode groans. “Fine, I’ll buy. I know a great club with a VIP section we can get into.”
He’s firing away a message on his phone as Graham sidles up to me. “Think we can cut out after two drinks?”
I laugh as we head to my truck. My phone buzzes in my pocket. I’m guessing it’s the address Bode just sent to all of us.
“I’m planning on it.”
“Good.”
By the time we get to the club—some place on Broadway—Bode is there waiting for us as we’re shown behind a velvet rope to a set of stairs. Following behind him, we enter a dark room with low, blue lights that are reflecting off the mirrored walls.
A bar takes up the back wall with a few servers slinging mixed drinks. Some of the guys are already up here with women on their arms.
