After a long day of practice, it feels good to unwind with the guys. A few of us are out exploring a new bar tonight, eating our weight in chicken wings and salad. The food is crap, and the music is too loud, but we’ve got a great view of the ocean.
Caleb sits next to me, reading out the stats from the other NHL teams’ exhibition games. Morrow and Novy sit across from us, elbows bumping at this narrow table.
“Oy, boys,” says Novy with a laugh. “Look who we have here.”
Caleb and I glance over our shoulders.
“Apparently that asshole thinks he’s too good to sit with us,” Novy says with a huff.
That’s when I see him. Mars Kinnunen is a giant. He’s sitting by himself at the bar, glancing down at his phone while he eats his dinner. If he’s noticed us sitting fifteen feet away, he’s not letting on.
“He hates me,” Novy adds, snatching up his beer and taking a swig.
“He likes you fine, Nov,” says Caleb, turning back around.
“No, he’s Finnish,” Novy counters. “When we first met, he tried to speak to me in Russian and I just stared at him. The only Russian I know are my grandpa’s curse words. He rolled his eyes and walked off.”
“Nah, he’s okay,” says Morrow. “Great player. Goalies are always weird, eh?”
“Have you tried talking to him?” Caleb asks me.
I shrug too. There hasn’t been a ton of opportunity. The goalies always have slightly different schedules. They’ve got their own coaches, their own practice times. I mean, I’ve seen him around, and we talk on the ice when we have to, but I couldn’t tell you a single thing about him outside his stats.
Caleb gives me a hard shove.
“What the hell?” I growl, as the other guys laugh.
“Go talk to him. Go say hi.”
“You go talk to him,” I huff.
“I talk to him all the time,” Caleb replies. “He’s a cool guy. Yeah, he’s quiet, but you try looking like that and see how easy it is to have people approach you first.”
I glance back over towards the giant Finn. Caleb is right, even in this crowded bar, there’s an aura around him. The guy gives off serious ‘don’t fuck with me’ energy. I once saw footage of him in a fight on the ice. He knocked the guy out with one punch.
“Do it,” Novy jeers.
“Yeah, tell him to get over here,” Morrow adds. “We can pull up a chair.”
I groan as Caleb gives me another shove. He’s right. It’s the polite thing to do. I wander towards the bar. “Hey, man,” I call out, patting his shoulder.
Mars stiffens under my hand. He’s got an awesome full-back tattoo that creeps up the back of his neck. I can see the ink peeking out the top of his t-shirt. I know from seeing it in the locker room that they’re the feathered tips of a raven’s spread wings.
Slowly, he turns to face me. I’m 6’3”, but even sitting on the stool he’s taller than me. “What?” he mutters.
“Saw you over here,” I call over the music. “Just wanted to say hi.”
He just blinks at me.
Great. This is already going so awesome.
“Umm…so how do you like the food?”
He glances down at his half-eaten salmon and baked potato. “It’s terrible.”
I huff a laugh. “Yeah, wings are pretty bad too.”
He waits for me to keep speaking.
My courage is starting to falter. “So uhh…what brings you here?”
“I was hungry.”
Fuck, this is painful. Abort mission.
I rub the back of my neck. “Great, yeah…well, me and some of the guys are over there,” I say, pointing out our ocean view table.
Novy and Morrow wave like a pair of idiots.
Mars gives them a curt nod.
“Wanna join us?”
He glances back at me. “No.”
Mayday. Mayday. Prepare to crash and burn.
I shift my weight, hands tucked in my pockets. “Cool, umm…well—”
You know what? Fuck it. I’m trying to be nice, and he’s being a total dick right now. I’m not gonna tiptoe around his ass all season.
“Can I ask why you won’t come sit with us?”
He just looks at me with that expressionless gaze. “I’m on the last chapter of my book,” he explains, tapping his phone screen. It lights up to display his e-book. “It would be rude to read at a shared table. I don’t want to be rude.”
I blink at him, mouth slightly open in surprise.
Well, now I’m the asshole.
I can’t help but laugh. I thought this guy was being a dick, but really, he’s just trying to not be a dick. Go figure. Finns are so weird.
“Sure, umm…well, okay then,” I say, backing away. “Have a good night, Kinnunen.”
He gives me a nod of dismissal, turning back to his phone.
I wander back to the table. Why do I feel like I just tried to hit on a girl and got shot down?
“No dice?” calls Caleb.
“Told you. He hates us,” says Novy, tearing into another chicken wing.
As I sink down onto my chair, my phone buzzes in my pocket.
Caleb slides his basket of fries over to me. “Here, you’ve earned these.”
But I can’t think about fries. I can’t think about anything. Because after two days of shooting my shot and getting nothing but radio silence, I’m looking down at a topless picture of my Seattle Girl.
