I was a little overwhelmed by the response I got from just the first chapter. I think that was the most reviews for a first chapter I've ever gotten, so thank you! I'm so glad you are onboard so far! I apologize for not getting back to all of those who reviewed, I am very sorry but please know that I do truly appreciate you taking the time to leave me some kind words.
I do not own Twilight, but hot hockey players are all mine. ALL OF THEM! =)
Playlist: Gimme Sympathy by Metric
BPOV
Isabella wasn't sure that Edward would be at the tournament. He hadn't said anything about it in any of their many text message conversations since their last meeting, but she had a feeling that he would be. It didn't really make sense to her for him to be there; he didn't play for a Chicago team, but maybe because he went to college just up the road in Evanston and was an extremely huge name in the sports world, Chicago had claimed him as their own.
She knew that Mike was the one they had wanted to go to the tournament. He was, after all, the on air talent while Isabella was just a writer for the website. But ESPN Chicago needed a presence at the event and Mike had asked her handle it personally. Isabella really liked Mike, he had been nothing but nice and welcoming to her when she'd made the switch from printed media with the Chicago Sun-Times to cyber media taking the job at ESPN Chicago. She found out shortly after taking the job that Mike had been instrumental in her hiring, stating that he had been a long time reader of her column and admired her point of view. He saw potential in her and took on a sort of mentor role when it came to her career, even though he was barely 2 years her senior.
She hated that Mike was sick and unable to attend, but she also saw his absence as an opportunity for herself; networking opportunities were hard to come by when you work behind the scenes. She took one last look at her reflection in the mirror and reminded herself that she needed to focus on the opportunity in front of her and not the possibility, however remote it may be, that Edward might be there.
There was a sharp rap on her front door alerting Isabella that her ride has arrived. Smoothing down her gray Northwestern Wildcats t-shirt and grabbing her sweater and coat off the hook by the door, she slipped out into the brutal cold.
.~.~.~.~.
"Our apologies, Miss Swan. There wasn't time to change the order, you'll have to wear what we had prepared for Mr. Newton," the young production assistant said nervously handing her a bag as she entered the Horseshoe Casino. Shedding her coat and passing it to the PA, Isabella reached into the bag and withdrew a red and black Chicago Blackhawks jersey, signed by the entire team.
"Is this… for me?" she asked.
"As a celebrity participant, if you get knocked out of the tournament by one of the participants you have to give them the shirt off your back," the young man explained. "We ordered one that would fit Mr. Newton. I'm afraid this is going to be a bit large on you."
"Oh, I see."
She slipped the embroidered mesh jersey over her head only to have it nearly fall to her knees.
Great, she thought, blowing a lock of hair out of her eyes.
"You'll be starting at table 4. Good Luck, Miss Swan."
EPOV
Edward came in from the cold only to be bombarded with shouting press and flashing cameras.
"Edward, do you expect any of the guys from the Blackhawks to be sore after Wednesday's overtime loss?" a raven haired woman asked him.
"Yeah probably," he laughed. "I'm probably the last guy they want to see right now."
"Do you think any of the guys here will give you a hard time for leaving your home town and playing in another city?"
"Of course, I mean I'd give me a hard time about that. But you know, I got drafted by Pittsburgh so I've got to give Pittsburgh everything I've got. Chicago will always be home though."
"You grew up watching the Blackhawks, what is it like putting on one of their jerseys now that you have to face off against them with the Penguins?"
"I have a lot of respect for this club. I think the entire program is a real class act… but I'll be really happy when I get to take this thing off." He smiled warmly down at the dark haired reporter, laughter creasing the corners of his eyes, and moved on through the crowd toward the gambling floor.
He stopped and spoke to several members of the Chicago team, laughing and joking with them about him finding himself wearing black and red for the first time in his professional career.
It was a common misconception that because hockey players fought each other on the ice they hated each other off of it, and that simply wasn't the case. Edward knew many of them from playing on Team USA in the 2009 Olympics, or from having met previously at the NHL awards and harbored no ill feelings toward any of them. Even those who had talked trash about him in the press, he couldn't stay angry with; at least not tonight. He had plans to call Bella as soon as the tournament was over and ask her out for drinks or perhaps show up at her house with flowers and a bottle of wine; whatever it took to show her that he was serious. What he didn't expect was to see the object of his affection practically swimming in a black and red jersey across the gambling floor.
"Excuse me guys," he said politely, slipping away from the group of players and making his way to where a petite brunette sat perched on a stool at the bar.
Her hair hung smooth and silky down her back, and her deep brown eyes were fixed on the amber liquid in her glass as she drank. After setting her glass back down on the bar, her tongue swept across her plump lower lip to gather any excess moisture and draw it back into her eager mouth. Beneath the low hanging sweater, Edward could see a pair of well fitting jeans that clung to her thighs and backside in a way that should almost be criminal. There was just one, tiny problem.
"You'd look much better if you were wearing black and gold," he said softly, letting his lips come within a hair's breadth of her ear as he watched goosebumps break out across her neck.
She gasped and turned quickly on her stool and almost toppled sideways. Edward's arms shot out in an instant to steady her before she fell into the tournament participant flanking her. Slowly, slowly, she turned her gaze up to look at him through her lashes.
"Thanks," she said timidly.
"Of course," he replied with a soft chuckle. "What are you doing here? You're kind of ruining my plans."
Bella straightened herself up to her full height and cleared her throat.
"I'm here representing ESPN Chicago. My coworker is still sick, so I came in his place. But I should be asking you the same thing, what are you doing here? And plans? What plans am I ruining?" she asked, a deep pucker forming between her brows.
He had to laugh again; she was so adorable when she was flustered.
"I'm here because I grew up here."
"You did?" she asked incredulously.
"You didn't know that? I thought… huh…" he smiled and rubbed his large, callused hand over the back of his neck.
"You thought what?"
"Nevermind, its nothing."
She raised an eyebrow questioningly at him, but decided not to press the issue.
"Let's back up here, what plans am I ruining?" she continued.
"Nothing slips past you, does it?" he laughed. "I was going to surprise you. You know, some grand, romantic gesture." He placed his hands on her hips and leaned down to kiss her only to have her shift away from him, her cheeks flaming crimson.
"Look Edward, that's sweet of you and all, but you're … who you are and I'm … who I am. I mean, we can't just be together, just like that."
"Because…?"
"Because!" she exclaimed, her blush intensifying. "People will ask how you how you met me, and what are you going to tell them?" She lowered her voice to a grumbling whisper, "'Oh yeah, I fucked her in the dressing room after a game.' Do you have any idea what that would do to my career? I already have a hard enough time having men take me seriously. I don't need to add being slutty to their already long list of reasons why I shouldn't be hanging around in a locker room."
"First of all Bella, it is nobody's business how we met or what the circumstances were, ok? Second of all, you aren't slutty. If memory serves, I all but forced you into it. That isn't to say you didn't enjoy yourself…?" He flashed her a bone melting smile and watched her sway on her feet a bit.
"When has it being none of their business ever prevented press from asking those types of questions? Believe me, I should know," she stated firmly after regaining her composure. "We just need to get our stories straight, ok? Once we have a… I don't know… alibi established then we can… we can do whatever we want."
"Whatever we want?" he said with a smirk.
"Edward, come on!" she demanded, her hands planted firmly on her hips and her expression making it clear that she was in not in a joking mood.
"Ok, ok. What's the story?"
"We… knew each other a little in college and then… we ran into each other here and reconnected. That's it."
"Sounds easy enough to stick to."
"But that means no physical contact tonight, ok? People might ask questions if they see us here acting like we're… together."
"Are we together?" he asked, a seductive smile playing on his lips.
"I can't have this conversation with you right now. The tournament's about the start."
"We'll save it for later then, maybe over dinner?" he called after her as she retreated into the crowd, her drink firmly in hand.
Edward ordered a beer for himself and made his way over to table 7 where he would start the tournament, all the while an amused smirk plastered firmly to his features.
.~.~.~.
Three rounds later, Edward still had his shirt and had managed to amass a rather impressive stack of chips. A few of the other celebrities had been knocked out early and were mingling with the other eliminated participants. Although the tournament was for charity, Edward was a competitor by nature and lived to win. He talked trash with a few of the other celebrities and engaged the other participants at his table; all in all enjoying himself to the best of his ability, all the while keeping an eye on the lovely brunette working her way up through the tables as well. He couldn't help but notice that Bella had a cache of chips that rivaled the size of his own.
"Alright, Cullen. Straight, Queen high." The portly fellow across the table leaned forward with his elbows on the edge of the table; a satisfied grin curled his bristle covered lips back to show his teeth clutching a dull toothpick between them. "Let's see what you've got."
Edward ran a hand nervously through his unruly hair and down the back of his neck. He glanced over at Bella raking in another hand's winnings across the room and let out a long held breath.
"That's a tough hand to beat, you know that?" he laughed.
"You're damn right, I know that," the man with the toothpick boomed, his sizable belly shaking beneath his Chicago bears sweat shirt.
"Full house, 10's and 7's." Edward fanned his cards out on the green felt and watched as the toothpick fell from the man's mouth and into his whiskey.
"You've gotta be shittin' me," the man said in disbelief.
"You win some, you lose some. No hard feelings?" He extended his large hand across the table, and across the mountain of chips, toward the paunchy gentleman still staring incredulously at his beaten hand.
"I hope the 'hawks win the cup," the man finally chuckled and good-naturedly took Edward's hand to gave it a firm shake.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," a bearded, ginger haired man said into a microphone from the raised platform near the bar. "I can't thank you enough for coming and sharing your evening and your generosity with us tonight." Resounding applause erupted across the gambling floor. "So far tonight we've raised $160,000 and every cent of that money will go in equal parts to the Chicagoland chapter of Autism Speaks, Chicago public schools, and other various organizations supported by Campbell for Kids." More applause and several whistles were heard again. "Now that things are really starting to heat up, I invite you all to take a break and grab a drink or say hello to a few of our celebrities while the always impeccable staff here at the Horseshoe condense our game down to the final 5 tables. I hope you will all stick around to see who goes home the lucky winner." The bearded man gave one more wave to the gathered crowd before jumping off the platform and setting in motion the removal of three-fourths of the tables.
An attractive blonde casino worker appeared at Edward's side and offered to gather his winnings for him while he enjoyed himself. He thanked her graciously, trying to ignore how enthusiastically she was batting her eyelashes at him, and set off to find his girl in the crowd.
He found her near the rear of the floor being chatted up by the Blackhawks' captain. She was smiling sweetly and giving him her full attention, but Edward could tell by the stiffness in her posture and the way she was shifting from foot to foot ever so slightly that she was only being polite.
In a few long, graceful strides he cut through the crowd and crossed behind where Bella and the captain were standing. In a rather animated gesture, he took two more steps and then did a double-take.
"Bella?" he questioned. "Bella Swan?" She turned her attention from her companion and looked at him with as neutral of an expression as she could manage while still conveying complete and utter confusion in her eyes. "Oh my god, I can't believe it. It has been so long!" He bent down and pulled her into a tight hug.
"Oh wow, Edward it has been a long time. How are you?" the giggled, finally catching on to his actions and trying to cover the fact that she found his over exaggerated behavior hilarious.
"I'm great…wow… you look just... well, you've always been beautiful but you look stunning, really." As he released her from their embrace, he trailed on large, strong hand down her arm that seemed fragile and small in comparison to his own, down to her delicate hand and brought it up to his lips. Her fair skin flushed to the point that it almost blended in with the red of the jersey on her back.
"Thank you, Edward. You always were quite the charmer," she giggled.
"You two know each other?" the captain interjected, eager to insert himself back into the conversation with the lovely reporter.
"Umm… yeah," she replied, shaking her head slightly as if to clear herself from an Edward induced fog. "We went to college together, but we haven't seen each other in what—3, 4 years?"
"Shit it's been longer than that hasn't it? It was freshman year… that game against Marquette, I remember you used to wear glasses then," he mused with a sly wink. "So I guess that's more like 6 or 7 years."
Her flush intensified. "I still wear glasses sometimes."
"That's a shame," the captain offered. "Your eyes are beautiful."
Bella and Edward both slowly turned to look at the third member of their conversation like he was an intruder.
"Thank you, Jonathan. That's very sweet of you to say," she said with a courteous smile.
"Hey Taser*, do you mind if I steal Bella here away for a minute? We've got some major catching up to do. Thanks, buddy." Without waiting for an answer he placed his hand on the small of Bella's back and steered her away from the captain and into a more secluded corner of the room.
"That was rude, Edward," she said firmly, trying to hide her giddy smile behind her drink. "He was nice."
"Who Taser? Yeah, he's a stand up guy, a bit of a wet blanket but you know, if nice does it for you…" he winked down at her again and she bit her cheek to keep from smiling further.
She turned to face him when they reached a quieter place. "That was quite a show you put on over there. A little over the top, don't you think?"
"I'm a hockey player, I'm used to exaggerating. Besides, now we have our alibi."
"Fair enough." He loved the fact that she couldn't seem to stop smiling whenever he spoke to her.
"So, care to join me for a late dinner tonight?" he pressed, fully intending to spend as much time with her has he possibly could while he was in town.
"Edward!" a booming voice interrupted. He groaned audibly and turned to face the owner of the voice.
"Marcus? Hey, how are you? I didn't know you would be here tonight." Edward shook hands with the clean cut man in starched khakis and a black polo shirt.
"Always eager to give back, Edward, always eager to give. This is a great cause that I'm happy to be a part of. Besides, Stan Bowman* and I go way back. But honestly Cullen, where are your manners? Hello beautiful," he said smoothly as he turned his attention to Bella.
"Excuse me, Bella this is Marcus Stringer. He writes for the Pittsburgh Trib, and covers most of the Pens games. Marcus this is my friend Bella Swan, we uhh… went to school together."
"Pleasure to meet you, Bella. I'm trying not to be jealous of the fact that you're wearing the mark of an invited guest to this event and I'm not. What kind of work are you in that garnered such a distinguished distinction?" He smiled genuinely at her.
"I write for ESPN Chicago*," she said confidently.
"Oh, so you know Mike Newton?"
"Yes, sir."
"Where is he anyway? I thought I'd catch him around here tonight." Marcus turned and animatedly scanned the room.
"He's rather ill, actually. That's why I'm here, sir."
"How lucky for us then. And stop with this sir business, it makes me feel old. I'm just Marcus." He smiled and Bella laughed. "So tell me Bella, at which table will you be when all this gets started again?"
Bella reached into the front pocket of her jeans to withdraw a small card.
"Table 2, it looks like."
"Wonderful! I'll be joining you there myself. Shall we?" Marcus offered his arm to Bella who hesitantly took it while casting an apologetic glance at Edward over her shoulder.
BPOV
"So tell me, Bella," Marcus said over the rim of his scotch. "How do you like working for ESPN?"
"It's great, a dream come true really. I started out in traditional media, but I knew this was where I wanted to eventually be," she replied amiably as one of the casino employees stacked her chips for her.
"I'm glad you love what you do. Loving the job really is key to being successful at it, and believe me I know sometimes it's hard to love. It's just a shame to have someone like you working behind the scenes. Have you ever thought about being on air?" Marcus asked.
"Of course I have. But Mike and Riley are the voices, and I'd never want to take anything from them. They're great guys and have been really good to me since I got hired. I owe them a lot, especially Mike."
"Of course, of course," he said flippantly. "But what if one of them were to move on to something else, would you want to be considered as their replacement?"
"Absolutely," she said without hesitation.
"And what if an opportunity arose for you outside of Chicago, would you take it?"
"It would depend on what it was. I really like Chicago, and I've lived here for a while now, but I'm not opposed to moving—if the motivation was right."
"I like you, Bella. You've got a good head on your shoulders, that's hard to find these days."
"Thank you, Marcus." Flattered, she smiled warmly as the next round of play began and chatter turned from business to less serious matters.
Remember this chapter, it will be important later. =)
* Jonathan Bryan Toews (pronounced TAYVZ; born April 29, 1988, goes by the nickname Taser) is a Canadian professional hockey center who plays for and is captain of the Chicago Blackhawks of the National Hockey League (NHL). Toews is currently the youngest captain inthe NHL
* Stanley Bowman (born June 28, 1973) is the current Vice President and General Manager of the Chicago Blackhawks of the NHL
* ESPN Radio is a partnership between the cable sports channel and national radio. ESPN Radio currently has four company-owned stations in New York, Los Angeles, Chicago and Dallas. Each station is partnered with an ESPN local website named for the city (for example, ESPNNewYork [dot] com for New York). Each website produces streaming content specific to their own local demographic.
