“Was it weird to beat them?” Bode asks as the doors to the elevator open and we all pile in.
Noah shakes his head. “Felt fucking awesome. The Knights beating the best team in the league? Fuck yeah.”
I don’t care that it was only preseason.
“Hell yeah!” Bode’s voice echoes around the small space. Leaning back against the mirrored wall, I press the button to our floor and close my eyes, listening as the guys shoot the shit.
I’m exhausted. Even in the preseason, my body is starting to feel it. Maybe it’s because Coach Andrews is pushing us harder than our last coach. He was a fine coach, but he didn’t work us as hard as we needed.
It was a hard-fought win tonight, and I’m thankful we were up to the task.
“Our floor.” An elbow hits me in the side as I open my eyes to see Noah walking out.
“You sure you guys don’t want to come up for a drink?” Jasper asks.
“Aren’t you supposed to be keeping everyone in check?” Noah asks, holding the door open as I brush past him.
“One drink won’t kill us, eh?”
“Coach might,” I tell them as the doors close.
“You don’t want to go hang out with them?” Noah asks, reaching into his back pocket and grabbing our room key from his wallet.
“Not tonight.”
Shoving my hands in my pockets, I make the short walk to our room that’s at the end of the hallway. Usually, we’re all onthe same floor, but not this trip. Something about a convention being in town.
“Everything okay?” Noah jogs to keep up with me. His tie is loosened at his neck, showing off his Adam’s apple.
I shouldn’t be noticing these things. Ihatethat I’m noticing these things.
It’s Noah, for fuck’s sake.
“Tired is all.”
Waiting as the click of the door lets us in, I make quick work of changing into shorts and a T-shirt. Having showered at the arena, all I want to do is crash tonight.
But I can’t.
My brain is spinning in circles at a million miles an hour. I’ve had a dry spell this season. Maybe if I go out and meet someone, that’ll help shut my brain off.
Or maybe I’ve just driven myself to exhaustion thinking and worrying about Noah. Because if it’s not hockey, it’s Noah.
That’s it.
Hockey and Noah. Noah and hockey. Not a good headspace for anyone to be in.
“Okay, you’re being weird,” Noah points out, slapping my thigh as he passes my spot on the bed to go to his, having changed out of his suit.
“Fuck off. No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. You’ve been weird for a few weeks now.”
“Is it because we’re getting along?” I try to deflect.
“You’re such a dick.” He throws a pillow my way with a laugh, but I grab it and shove it back at him. But the momentum of it sends me crashing into him.
Onto his bed.
