Page 11 of Aftersome
James: Rise and shine, sunshine! Don’t think I’ve forgotten that you agreed to go out with us tonight.
Dammit.
I didn’t want to go, but after being cornered in the locker room by him and few other teammates, there was no way I could have said no.
Not this time anyway.
Me: Don’t you have better things to do than to bug me?
James was like a stray dog that would never leave you alone. Constantly up your ass and wanting attention, but you continuously refused to acknowledge it.
That was our relationship.
At Sutton, he was the annoying teammate who fucked anyone with a heartbeat and now, he was the domesticated golden retriever of the team.
I didn’t know which one was worse…
James: Not really. The wife is still sleeping and you’re my only option.
Rolling my eyes, I grunted to myself before tossing my phone back down onto the counter and making my way back up to my bedroom. As I was walking, I heard my phone vibrate with another incoming text from James, but I ignored it.
Once I was in the safety of my room, I opened my dresser drawer and pulled out my journal that was resting on top of my socks.
Hoping to distract myself from the thought of going out tonight, I thew myself back into bed, and with my journal and pen in hand I began to write.
3
MAL
After six years of living in Seattle, you’d think I’d finally feel at home. That my teammates would be more like family than anything, and at the age of thirty-one, I would have found my goddamn purpose in life.
But when you’re tormented daily by inner demons and regrets, you only find solace in being alone. Where no one would get close to you. Where no one could get hurt.
I thought getting out of Sutton was my first step. Getting drafted right out of college, I left without so much as a goodbye. I packed all my shit and got the hell out of there, escaping from everything that I didn’t have the courage to face.
And still didn’t have the courage to face.
Angry at the world, I picked fights with just about anyone. Teammates, fans, opposing players, I was unliked by the whole league. Then four years later when the Wolverines were done with my ass, I found myself being traded to the Seattle Orchids.
I couldn’t figure out why one of the best teams out there wanted me, but they saw something in me no other team did.
Even now as I approached the neon-lit bar with crowds way too vast for my liking, I couldn’t figure out why I agreed to live in one of the busiest cities in the U.S.
I hated people.
But I didn’t have much of a choice. It was either play for the Orchids or no more hockey.
With a hesitant hand on the door of the bar, I walked inside and instantly regretted my decision to come here.
From what I could see, every table, booth, fucking square inch of this place was covered in people. All annoyingly happy, all laughing, and all partially focused on a single table that was somewhere in the back.
I had a strong feeling I knew what table that was.
“Villareal, over here!” a familiar voice shouted from the back of the bustling bar where I immediately noticed James and all the other guys from the team hanging out. No one bothered to look over. Probably because they didn’t believe I was actually here, but more so, they didn’t care.
On a quiet grunt, I nodded my head in his direction before shoving my hands into my pants pockets and making my way over to him. Hat on, hood up, I kept my head down. During my many years in the NHL, I’d mastered the technique of walking through crowds with my eyes trained on the ground. It was the only way to get anywhere unnoticed.
I was just as unapproachable off the ice as I was on, but when it came to privacy and personal space, it was something every player had to get used to. Whether you wanted to or not.
