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- CHAPTER FOUR -
Noah
One of the worst parts about being a professional hockey player in a place like Vancouver, a city that literally lives and breathes hockey, is that you can’t go anywhere without being hassled.
“And the way you handle that stick…” The blonde in front of me flutters her lashes in a way that I’ve seen a million times before. “I can only imagine what else you can do with your hands…”
I nod and smile, not really listening, but being polite, nonetheless. I’m searching for Hazel, but the bar is reaching peak capacity. It’s nearly midnight. The crowd inside The Bloody Viking are getting rowdy and it’s at about this time that I usually go home.
But I’m not leaving without her.
“… and then she said that you can increase the size of them even more… What do you think?” The voice next to me begs for attention, but my neck is craning, my eyes scanning every inch of the bar.
And then I see her.
My gut pulls and I’m launched from the bar stool without even knowing I meant to do it. Bony fingers curl around my shoulder, pulling and tugging… begging me to come back. But I pull away from the girl and her plastic chest. The crowd in front of me parts like I’m freaking Moses and I push across the room.
“Hazel!” I call out, but the bar is so loud even my deep voice doesn’t reach her. Her auburn hair is swishing as she walks hastily towards the green exit sign. “HAZEL! HAZEL! HAZEL!”
I feel like a pathetic puppy dog. But I don’t care.
Where is she going?
I thought it was going so well. Ellie had been too busy doing whatever the hell it was that she had been doing, so I had Hazel all to myself. We’d been laughing, having fun and I even caught her looking me up and down a few times. I’m no Hugh Hefner, but I took that as a good sign.
I’m trying to stay focused on Hazel, I can’t lose sight of her otherwise she’ll disappear into the crowd of bodies. A large guy in a Vikings jersey, and yes, of course it has my name on the back, is steaming across to me. He’s going to try and stop me for a photo, I just know it. He’s just got that longing, desperate look in his eyes. They’re popping from his head, but I can’t stop now. Not tonight.
I reach in my pocket, plucking my wallet from my pants. Taking big strides across the room, the rough man starts yelling out.
“Edwards! Edwards! Yo, EDWARDS!”
I pull a card from my wallet and look at him. He’s standing in front of me, his mouth almost on the floor. He’s got grey hair, what’s left of it anyway. This is a grown man… He’d be at least my father’s age, and then some.
But he’s fangirling like crazy, and to this day, I’ve never let a fan down yet.
“Here,” I say, grabbing him by the shoulders. I shove the card in his chest, and he grabs it. “That’s my agent. Call him and we’ll go out for a dinner.” I step back, leaving him staring at the card, his hands shaking. “Or… I’ll get you a corporate box for the playoffs. Or… A signed jersey! I’m sorry, I just… I just… I have to go!”
I stumble backwards on someone’s leg behind me. I take a second to regain my balance. When I look over at the exit, I see the door swing open, and a bounce of silky, velvety hair blows from the wind gushing through the door.
I race forward, grabbing the door just as it closes. It’s fucking freezing outside, but the pain prickling my hot cheeks is nothing compared to the twisting in my gut right now.
“Hazel?” I call out to a vacant, snow-covered street. There’s a few drunk men smoking just outside of the other entrance to the bar, and another drunk man stumbling up the street singing ‘We Like To Party’ to himself. Steam rises from vents on the sidewalk, and aside from the bass of the music blaring from the bar, and the drunk man’s fading rendition on the Vengaboys classic, it’s silent.
I’m not letting her go. I’ve waited too long for this.
I look down. Crunched snow shows footsteps that lead off in all different directions. There’s too many to follow a particular one, but a flash before my eyes has images of Hazel’s burgundy Dr Martens boots resting on the bar stool. I couldn’t get enough of the amazing curvy goddess as we sat at the bar. Every chance I got, I gazed up her gorgeous legs and took in her thick, juicy-looking thighs. I wanted to split them. I wanted to see what was between them and taste it.
But that won’t be possible if I don’t find her.
I crouch down, feeling like a Park Ranger in the mountains as I scan the various styles of imprints in the snow. I begin to lose hope, but then I see it…
“There,” I mutter, looking at an imprint that’s rounded at the back, wide at the front and a gap in the middle. “Boots. Hazel’s boots.”
It looks fresh and I follow them. This is a big city and despite spending the last two hours with Hazel, I stupidly didn’t find out where she was staying. What an idiot. She could be on a bus for all I know, heading to her parent’s place on the outskirts of the city. I’ve been there once before when we dropped Ellie off after a hockey try out, but that was a long time ago, and I’ll be fucked if I remember exactly where it is.
I follow the footsteps, my breath coming out in heavy steam from my mouth. A few minutes pass and the steps get softer.
“I’m close,” I mumble.
My chest bounces and I’m panting hard. I spend most of my life working out, but the nerves building inside of my body are making me feel ten times heavier than normal.
And then I see it.
The bright lights of Vancouver Inn shine like an oasis in the middle of a desert. The deep crevasses of boots in the snow lead right up to the reception and I race ahead, my head thumping.
I burst through the front door, ignoring the glowing gaze the bellboy looks across at me with. I’ve already promised one fan something I might not be able to follow through with, I can’t make another one.
The bright lights of the reception desk shine in my eyes. I squint, the glare a stark difference to the darkened streets of midnight in Vancouver.
“What do you mean there’s no booking? I have the confirmation right here!” A sweet voice rings through the air and my heart gives a leap inside my chest. “Look! It’s right here. Hazel Harris. Two nights.”
“I’m sorry, Miss. It’s not in our system.” A deeper voice replies.
I step forward, culling my pace to a slow walk.
“Well can you just find me a different room then please? It’s late and I just want to go to sleep…” I see Hazel from behind. She’s leaning on the counter, bent over so her backside is protruding invitingly. I stare for a moment, feeling a twitch in my pants before it’s cut short by the man behind the desk.
“Like I said, there aren’t any rooms left.” His tone has changed, and when he looks from his computer screen, he looks down at Hazel in a way that has my fists clenching. “What part of ‘no rooms left’ don’t you understand?”
My nostrils flare and I race up behind Hazel, slamming my clenched fist on the counter.
“Good evening.” I feel my lip twitch as I spit the words out at the receptionist. He shrinks down under my presence. I can see he’s recognized who I am by the way he’s looking at me. I don’t look at Hazel, but there’s a burning on the side of my face that tells me she’s staring up at me. “My friend here has booking that you need to honour…”
