Page 42 of Fresh Ice
“I don’t know, maybe you want some alone time with him,” Levy mumbled.
It was weird to see Levy so awkward for no reason. Alonso didn’t judge him for it, but he knew Levy loved being the centre of attention. Alonso had probably spoilt him by spending so much time together if this was his reaction to Alonso having another friend.
“Stop being weird and come. It’s fine.”
It was just a supper between friends. What could even go wrong?
CHAPTER EIGHT
The game against the Leopards was, of course, a shit show. Alonso got a goal and an assist, but he could tell that Levy was frustrated by his own lack of production. Not only that, but Levy caused a turnover that led to Zee’s go-ahead goal.
Alonso turned to Levy when they were both fully dressed. “You still wanna come?”
“Yeah, course. Let’s do this,” Levy replied with obviously false cheer.
Alonso smiled tentatively, not calling Levy out for it, and led the way through the room.
Zee was waiting for them in the parking lot, laughing at something his defence partner, Viggs, was saying. He perked up when he saw Alonso and Levy approaching.
“There’s the rest of the party,” he called out cheerfully.
“You could at least act a little less thrilled at having beaten us,” Alonso joked, feeling light even though they’d lost. It felt daring, pursuing an old friendship like this despite what his dad would say about it.
Zee’s grin didn’t waver. “Hey, you played an awesome game. It was a close one.”
Alonso ignored the testy snort Levy let out behind him. “Aw, shucks. Thanks, Zee, but how about we don’t talk about the game?”
Zee shrugged affably. “Deal. And, hey, have you guys met Viggs?”
Alonso nodded at the other man. “Nice to meet you.”
Viggo Berggren, better known as Viggs, was a broad, Swedish Alpha with the bluest fucking eyes in the world. “Same here. And, seriously, nice goal on the third. You and Killer are, well, killing it.”
“Thanks,” Alonso said as Zee groaned with a, “That was terrible.”
Alonso was surprised when Zee offered him the passenger seat instead of Viggs but capitulated and sat down when they insisted. He didn’t feel too bad about leaving Levy in the back seat with Viggs—he could make friends with anyone.
Like a typical hockey player, Zee took them to a sushi place in the heart of Denver, grabbing a table in the corner a little apart from the other patrons.
Zee smiled at Alonso widely when they all had their menus. “It’s nice to be having dinner with you, man. You’re having a hell of a season.” He turned to Levy belatedly. “You too, man.” Zee had gone through his rookie season the previous year, being a year older than Alonso. He hadn’t been nominated for the Calder, but he’d done well regardless—with the league’s focus on production, it was hard for defencemen to get the title.
Alonso winced internally as he realised he’d never thought to check up on Zee the previous year.
He’d do better.
Levy nodded at Zee’s compliment. “Thanks. Same—last season, too.”
“Nah, it was all right.” Zee had always been way too modest. Alonso had admired the quality when they were in Juniors even though his dad had turned his nose up at it.
Alonso poked him in the shoulder. “How’s it been without Zammy? Surprised you survived the operation to separate you two,” he teased.
Viggs jumped in. “Hey, what am I? Chopped liver?”
Alonso smiled sheepishly. “I mean, have you seen the two of them together?”
Viggs snorted. “Nah, you’re right. They’re ridiculous.”
Zee stuck his tongue out at them. “You guys are just jealous. And come on, Olive. Spreading lies? Really? After everything we’ve done together?” Zee waggled his eyebrows as if they’d gotten up to more than just hang out a few times.
