Page 43 of Speak in Fever
Tonight feels different, though. Tonight he finds himself looking forward to the chance to celebrate with his team, especially with Rath, whose performance deserves recognition beyond just tactical analysis.
The club Torres has chosen is the kind of upscale place that caters to young professionals and the occasional celebrity—dim lighting, excellent sound system, the kind of atmosphere designed for dancing and drinking expensive cocktails. The team has reserved a VIP section, giving them space to celebrate without dealing with crowds or autograph requests.
Percy settles into the booth with a beer, content to watch his teammates celebrate and decompress after the game. Across the section, Rath is engaged in what appears to be a spirited conversation with Terrible about goal-scoring techniques, both of them gesticulating enthusiastically while Torres provides commentary.
"Good game tonight," JP says, sliding into the seat beside Percy. "You and Rath looked locked in."
"Team effort," Percy replies, but he can't keep the satisfaction out of his voice. "Rath played great."
"Yeah, he did." JP's tone is carefully neutral. "Kid's been different lately. More confident. More... I don't know, settled."
Percy takes a sip of his beer and tries not to think too hard about what might be contributing to Rath's increased confidence. "He's found his role on the team."
"Has he?" JP asks, and there's something knowing in his voice that makes Percy glance at him sharply.
Before Percy can respond, the conversation is interrupted by Rath's laughter from across the section—genuine and unguarded, the kind of sound that makes Percy's attention immediately focus on him. Rath's head is thrown back slightly, his face bright with amusement at something Torres just said, and Percy finds himself smiling at the sight.
"Yeah," JP says quietly, following Percy's gaze. "I'd say he's definitely found something."
The evening progresses with the easy energy of a team that knows it's played well. Percy finds himself relaxing more than usual, drawn into conversations and actually enjoying the social aspect of the celebration. Several times, he catches Rath looking in his direction, and when their eyes meet, Rath's smile is warm and slightly private, like they're sharing some kind of inside joke.
Around midnight, the club's DJ switches to more danceable music, and Percy watches as several of his teammates migrate toward the dance floor. Torres immediately claims space and begins what can only be described as an interpretive dance routine, while Terrible attempts moves that look like they belong in a different decade entirely.
"Come on, Cap," Raul calls from the edge of the dance floor. "Show us what you've got."
Percy shakes his head with a grin. "I'll stick to sports that require skates."
"Coward!" Torres shouts over the music, but his grin takes the sting out of the accusation.
Percy is content to watch from the booth, nursing his beer and enjoying the sight of his team celebrating. But his attention keeps drifting to Rath, who's dancing with an unconscious grace that makes Percy's mouth go dry. Nothing inappropriate or attention-seeking, just the kind of natural rhythm that makes everything look effortless.
He knows they need to talk about what happened, but his mind is still spinning and he doesn’t even know where to begin. He knows what he wants, but he doesn’t understand what he feels, and it’s overwhelming.
Chapter 14
Rath is having the best night he's had in months.
The game had been perfect—two goals, chemistry with Percy that felt almost telepathic, the kind of performance that makes coaches and teammates take notice. His confidence is riding high, boosted by Percy's assists and the way their captain had looked at him after each goal like Rath was doing something extraordinary.
Every time he replays those moments—the perfect passes, the way he and Percy seemed to anticipate each other's movements, the satisfaction in Percy's eyes when their plays worked exactly as intended—Rath feels a warm surge of pride mixed with something deeper and more complicated. It's not just that he played well tonight. It's that he played well with Percy, that their connection translated so seamlessly from whatever's been building between them off the ice to pure hockey instinct.
Coach's praise after the game had been specific and meaningful: "That's the kind of offensive awareness we need,Platts. Keep building on that chemistry." The words had felt like validation for more than just his hockey skills, like recognition that he and Percy work together in ways that go beyond standard line combinations.
Now they're at some upscale club in downtown San Jose, the team scattered across a VIP section that Torres somehow convinced management to reserve for them. The venue is exactly what Rath would expect from Torres—stylish without being pretentious, expensive without being stuffy.
The VIP area gives them enough space to celebrate without being constantly approached by fans or media, but it's positioned so they can see the main floor and dance area. The music is good, the drinks are flowing, and Rath feels loose and happy in a way that has nothing to do with the way Percy keeps watching him from across the room.
Okay, maybe it has a little to do with that.
Every time Rath glances toward the booth where Percy has established himself with a beer and what appears to be determined people-watching, he finds Percy's attention already on him. Not obvious staring, not the kind of focus that would attract notice from their teammates, but consistent awareness that makes Rath hyperconscious of his own movements and expressions.
It's confusing, and he doesn't know what to do with it. He doesn't know what to do with Percy.
The morning in their shared hotel room feels like it happened weeks ago instead of hours. The memory of waking up in Percy's arms, of the careful way Percy had touched him, of the quiet admission that they both wanted something more—all of it seems surreal now, like something that happened to someone else.
But Percy's continued attention suggests it wasn't just a dream or a moment of temporary insanity. There's intent behind theway Percy watches him, calculation that goes beyond casual team bonding or professional interest. Rath just doesn't know what Percy plans to do with that intent, or what he expects Rath to do with the knowledge that Percy is watching.
"Two goals, baby!" Torres shouts over the music, throwing his arm around Rath's shoulders in celebration. His enthusiasm is infectious, the kind of genuine excitement that makes team victories feel personal. "That's what I'm talking about!"
