Page 44 of Slew Foot
Not like … for any particular reason. They were both blond and blue-eyed but they didn’t look alike in any other way. There was justsomething…
The bus’s brakes hissed, and they began to roll forward, so Rafe stuffed his sweater back in his bag and settled in for the ride to the hotel.
“You look nice by the way,” Mickey said a moment later, gesturing to his trousers and button-down.
“I am nice,” Rafe responded absently. It was a dumb joke their family had, and he expected Mickey to roll his eyes or something.
But Mickey bumped their shoulders together and said, “Yeah. You are.”
It was surprisingly sincere, and Rafe blinked at him. “You think so?”
“Yes, Rafe. I do.”
Rafe smiled happily because he honestly liked Mickey and thought he was nice too. Mickey—and Tanner—had been the nicest and most welcoming anyone had ever been when he joined a new team. Making friends already—ones he trusted, ones that he liked to hang out with—that wasperfect.
Mickey was glued to his phone, so Rafe glanced around, listening to his teammates’ conversations. It all went quiet when Connor stood. He said something about a free afternoon, a team dinner after, optional movie night, and an early practice tomorrow.
Seemed pretty normal.
Coach Hoyt stood too. “I expect everyone to be back in their rooms at a decent time tonight and to get some sleep,” he said, bracing himself on the seats when the bus turned into the hotel drive.
A few guys groaned but Rafe was fine with it.
“We don’t usually have curfews, right?” he asked Mickey as the bus pulled up to the front door. Rafe was pretty sure they didn’t but occasionally coaches were hardasses who locked the team down.
One of his coaches in Juniors had liked to pull shit like that, to make guys believe he had the power. He did other things too, like pick on guys when they fucked up and keep them out of the lineup if they questioned anything he said. He was one of those old-school “gotta toughen them up” kind of coaches.
Hoyt didn’t seem like the type though.
“No. Not usually.” Mickey frowned. “Why? Were you thinking about meeting up with someone?”
“Huh? No,” Rafe said. “I don’t know anyone in Dallas.”
Well, that wasn’t totally true, there was a guy on the Dallas team he’d played with in Juniors and another he sort of knew from some event or other but they weren’t close enough that they made plans. Just kinda nodded across the red line during warmups.
“Oh, okay.”
Rafe followed Mickey off the bus and into the lobby where the team sprawled on the couches or wandered around the lobby while they waited for their room assignments.
Tanner and Jesse were yammering at one another on the couch across from them so Rafe kinda zoned, half-listening for his name, half-eavesdropping on their dumb conversation about the best kind of barbecue.
Duh, obviously it was Carolina-style. But Rafe was kinda biased because he’d been drafted by the Carolina team and had lived there and played for their AHL team for a few years before he’d been traded.
Mickey stood a moment later and Tanner got up too.
Rafe tapped his foot on the carpet until his name was called, then stood and grabbed his key card, falling in behind them as they made a beeline for the elevators.
“Dude! Give me my key!” Tanner protested, grabbing for the one in Mickey’s hand.
“No,” Mickey protested. “They gave both of them to me for a reason. You lose them all the time. You’re not doing itagain.”
“You’re not the boss of me!” Tanner protested.
“Well,someoneneeds to be,” Mickey shot back.
“Oh! I didn’t realize you roomed together on the road too,” Rafe said, surprised.
“Entry-level contracts,” Mickey said drily. They all filed onto the elevator, cramming in with the other guys who were already on. It was already too packed, especially with all their luggage, but if they squeezed together a little bit more … he turned and plastered himself to Mickey’s side.
