A/N: Okay so...um...I feel like I start all my author note's with "Okay so..." Whatever.
Not sure what all I have to say about this chapter other than hopefully things are starting to pick up.
Detroit Red Wings and Minnesota Wild are property of themselves and the NHL. The Timberwolves are property of themselves and the NBA. The Vikings are property of themselves and the NFL. The Twins are property of themselves and the MLB. All Wild players are my own characters (minus Jett) so they aren't real people. Overtime Bar is also my own creation, don't steal. But yeah, enjoy the update! :D
The atmosphere in the locker room was once again one of celebration, the Wild beating Detroit 4-2. Kendall hadn't scored, but he had assisted on two of the goals, including the game winner, which was shot by Jett. As egotistical as the guy was, he was a great left hand shot and he and Kendall made a good team. Which was a hard pill to swallow.
"Good job, rook," the aforementioned winger stated, ruffling the blond's still wet hair.
Kendall turned and gave him a half smile before pulling his black hoodie over his head. It was all he was capable of. The game had been a close one, remaining tied at two until the last five minutes of the third. Frustration had built up inside the center as his shots were constantly kicked away or gobbled up by the Red Wings goalie. Plus, if he were perfectly honest, that rumor about James and Camille Roberts had nagged at the back of his mind, like a mosquito bite he knew he shouldn't scratch. But when he was on the bench of in the locker room during the intermissions, he started scratching anyway.
With a harsh sigh, he grabbed his iPhone, checking texts. The usual "great game, honey! So proud! xo" from his mom, Carlos' violent "You should've busted #25's head in after boarding you in the 2nd!!", and a "good game buddy!" from Logan.
Then a Twitter alert.
From James' Twitter.
He debated if he actually wanted to read it or just delete it without looking. He knew seeing what it said would be a bad idea, especially if it was about Camille. His emotions felt raw after being forced to watch Carlos' bullshit entertainment "news" show and seeing that story about his former friend and still object of his affection supposedly dating some female celeb. But if he didn't read it, his curiosity would drive him nuts, his imagination creating all kinds of horrible possibilities as to what the tweet could say, further fueling his insecurities, paranoia, and heartbreak.
Steeling his spine, he looked at his screen, deciding to just get it over with and read it. After all, nothing could be worse than anything his mind could create.
"atOfficialJDiamond: Just to clear stuff up, me & atCamilleRoberts are FRIENDS, nothing more. She's got a boyfriend & it's def NOT me! XOXO JD"
Relief flooded through Kendall, causing his body to relax, shoulders slumping. But it was short lived. As ecstatic as he was that James wasn't dating his actress friend, it didn't mean he wasn't dating anyone else. He pretty much knew the rumors of him hooking up with random girls were true, considering it was reality back in high school. And, yeah, people changed as they grew up, but he didn't know if that would change for James, especially not now. He was young, rich, famous, and definitely still hot as fuck. He'd be dumb not to take advantage of the readily available string of girls who were ready, willing, and able to satisfy his every need.
That happy thought in his head, he closed the door on his small safe in his cubby, closing the cubby door over. He grabbed his duffel, heading towards the exit.
"Yo, Rook!" One of his teammates, a huge brick wall of a dude named Alex Tyler called out, making Kendall stop in his tracks and turn to him. "We're headed out for drinks. Wanna join us?"
The blond rubbed the back of his neck, strongly considering it. Partially because saying no to a defenseman known as "Tyler the Terror" seemed like a huge fucking mistake, teammate or not, but mostly because a beer-or five-actually sounded like a really good plan at that moment in time.
Adjusting the strap of his duffel on his arm, he gave his teammates a smile. "Yeah. Sounds good."
The group headed to a nearby sports bar called Overtime that was located a few blocks from Xcel Energy Center, easily in walking distance, athlete or not. Several patrons saluted the Wild players as they walked in the door, beers raised up, loud "Hey!"s and "congrats!" and "Fuck yeah, Wild!" being aimed at them. The players thanked everyone, signing autographs and taking pictures as requested.
It was a first for Kendall, being recognized away from the arena, but he figured it was solely because they were barely half a mile away and in a bar that was for sports nuts only. Memorabilia adorned the walls, not just of the hockey variety. Kendall spied some Timberwolves basketball jerseys hung up, Vikings helmets and footballs along another wall. The wall in the back was comprised of several flatscreens all around one massive one, sports on every screen, the largest showing the MLB playoffs, the Twins in it this year.
The impromptu autograph session done, the group of players headed to a table towards the back, lifting themselves onto the high stools. On Kendall's left was Tyler, six-foot-four-inches of pure muscle that he used to his advantage, slamming guys into boards, pounding his fist in others' faces, constantly leading his team in penalty minutes.
On the other side of him was Elliott Carter, first line left winger and a great left handed shot. Also was extremely Canadian. And it wasn't just his accent that gave it away, or that he did some sorta weird stereotypical Canadian shit-although he did have a habit of saying "eh" a lot. It was the the Maple Leaf tat on his left pec over his heart, the Royal Canadian Mounted Policeman teddy bear in his locker, the quirk of putting maple syrup over every breakfast food imaginable. Not to mention his habit of bringing up the Olympic gold medal he won with Team Canada. If he wasn't so damn likable, he'd have the shit beat out of him on a daily basis.
Next was Jakob Larsson, blond haired, blue eyed Swede and first line center. Kendall thought he was a better one, but wouldn't ever voice it. For starters, he was a rookie, and stating out loud that he was better than a veteran, no matter how many years experience he had himself, was a bad fucking idea. So he kept his mouth shut and preferred to just prove it with his actions on the ice instead.
Fifth member of their group was the Russian defensemen, Ilya Romanov. He wasn't as big as Tyler, or an instigator either, but he could still get the job done, checking opponents, blocking shots, shit like that. Also had a superstition of eating the most disgusting smelling shit before every game. It made the locker room stink for hours and caused guys to long for the smell of used socks and sweaty jockstraps.
Then finally, on Kendall's right, was Jett. He supposed the guy was all right. Hell, he was a great right winger, but the problem was he knew he was good looking, too. He was constantly checking himself out in the mirror he kept in his locker, inspecting his jaw from several angles, fixing his clearly manicured eyebrows. Kendall wondered if Jett wouldn't have been better suited in GQ rather than the NHL, but then he'd see the guy on the ice and think differently.
Besides, it's not like Jett was the first pretty boy he'd ever played with.
Not that Kendall was gonna think about that.
Much.
For the rest of the night anyway.
Elbow on the table, he smeared a hand over his face, trying to suppress a groan. He should've been in a good mood, should've been loud and obnoxious like the rest of his teammates, cheering with them as Tyler yelled out for two pitchers of beer and to keep a tab open. But he wasn't. He was moping, all because of some bullshit rumor that was shot down and his own paranoia and self-deprecation tearing himself down.
God, he hated his brain sometimes.
"Yo, Rook." Tyler called for his attention, nudging him in the side with an elbow. Kendall dropped his hand and looked at the defenseman. "Why ya bummin'?"
Yeah, like he was really gonna fucking go there. "I'm just upset because there's a possibility that the guy who I've been in love with for over a decade-who also happens to be an internationally known singer and my best friend since I was four-is with someone else, not to mention he's incredibly straight. Oh, and we haven't spoken in about five years so I have no idea what's going in his romantic life. Plus, there's no way I can even admit that I'm questioning my sexuality because I play in the NHL, one of the most brutal sports out there, and if anyone finds out about it then my ass is a bloodstain on the ice."
Right. That was really a confession he was gonna make.
So instead, he just shrugged, smoothing the back of his hair down, feeling the still-damp strands against his rough, calloused hands. "Just tired. Not used to NHL level hockey yet."
"It's been two games. You can't handle it now, you might not be able to handle it period."
"I can handle it," Kendall argued, putting his hand on the table. "Don't even worry about me."
"Oh, I'm gonna worry about you," Jett spoke up, causing the dirty blond to turn to him with an eyebrow raised. "I mean, look at that face, those eyebrows. How do you expect to get endorsement deals with that mug?"
The other five players at the table rolled their eyes.
"I know what problem is," Larsson spoke up, Swedish accent thick, making it hard to understand him. But still, he had the attention of his teammates. "He have broken heart."
Everyone's heads snapped to Kendall to see his reaction, to see how his face looked in response to the blond's words, before he wiped it away and put his game face on.
Only Kendall was too surprised at being found out that he didn't even think to wipe the shock off his mug.
"Ah, I'm right, ya?"
Feeling his face heat up, a sheepish expression on it, he knew he had no other option but to just nod. "Yeah."
"Girl reject ya?" Tyler questioned.
"Something like that."
A simultaneous "ooh!" sounded out around him, making him think back to when he, Logan, Carlos, and James used to speak in sync at random moments. He highly doubted it would happen nowadays. Partially because that would require them to be in the same place at the same time.
"Yeah," Tyler started, clapping a hand between the center's shoulder blades. "You definitely need that beer."
Their waitress finally showed up, placing a tray on their table. She carefully placed the two glass pitchers of beer in the center, before putting an empty glass in front of each guy. "Anything else?" she asked sweetly, if not a little tiredly. She'd clearly been on her feet for a while, possibly nearing the end of her shift.
"Yeah, get my man here a shot of tequila," Tyler stated, slapping Kendall's back a couple times.
The center's eyebrows went up, green eyes wide. "Whoa, I don't need-" He turned to the waitress, eyes still wide. She was definitely pretty, big brown eyes, curled blonde hair, nice figure. And the smile she gave him caused his heart to skip a beat, a reaction he hadn't felt since he'd decided to torture himself and watch James' latest music video on YouTube. Repeatedly.
Moments like that made him seriously doubt if he were actually gay. Bisexual? Maybe. But definitely not gay.
"So that's a 'no' on the shot?" she questioned, pink shiny lips pursed in question.
"Right."
"Lemme know if you change your mind then." She shot him another smile before walking back. Kendall turned his head to watch, his eyes totally not glued to her ass in those tight jeans and most definitely not admiring the way her hips swayed as she walked.
But when he turned back to the table, the looks on his teammates' faces told him he hadn't fooled anyone.
"Ya know," Carter started. "Best way to get over someone is to get someone new." His Canadian accent made it sound like he said "oover", something that normally amused the center. But not at that moment.
"I'm not looking for someone new."
"Right. So your eyes being glued to the waitress' ass wasn't you looking? What exactly was it about then?" Only he said "aboat" rather than "about".
Kendall shrugged, grabbing his beer that someone had poured for him and drinking.
"If you aren't interested," Jett started, putting his own glass back down on the table. "I'll take her."
Suddenly Kendall was interested. If for no other reason than to spare the poor girl from Jett.
"Maybe another night," the dirty blond spoke. "Tonight, I'm celebrating with my boys."
"Hell yeah!" Tyler yelled out, raising his beer. "To the Wild men!"
The other five at the table did the same, clinking their glass together. All six of them let out a simultaneous "Go Wild!" before drinking deeply.
Kendall placed his glass on the paper coaster, licking the suds off his top lip, green eyes drifting over to the waitress as she delivered shots to a nearby table. Maybe Carter was right. Maybe finding someone new could be exactly what he needed, exactly what would get him over James. It sure as hell wouldn't hurt to try, plus he couldn't remember the last time he'd had a date.
Wait, it was in high school.
No wonder he couldn't remember. He'd tried to forget how fucking pathetic he was.
Yeah, he definitely needed to go out with someone soon. And who better than a pretty blonde with big brown doe eyes? One who was looking over and giving him a smile as their eyes met. One who seemed to be as interested in him as he was in her.
He felt a sudden wave of guilt as he smiled back at her, turning away and focusing his eyes on his beer. He didn't know why. It wasn't like he and James were actually together, so it wasn't cheating. Not technically hurting anyone, considering he was single.
Too bad his heart didn't see it that way.
Shoving all that shit aside, he focused his attention on the conversation at the table, deciding not to think about cute waitresses or handsome rockstars. He had enough shit to deal with when it came to other aspects of his life. And like he'd told his teammates, that night was about celebrating and having a good time.
Taking a drink of his beer, he set out on doing exactly that.
