Hayes (A Carolina Cyclones Story)

9.

Hayes

I can't remember the last time I had a hat trick. As the hats, all types, in various shades of teal, black and gray, rain down onto the ice from Cyclones fans all over the arena following my third goal of the night, the game winner, I feel a real and true smile grow across my face. The grin never wavers through my acknowledgement lap or post game interview after I'm named the first star or even through all the other compulsory media obligations that come with having such a great night on the ice.

When I make it to the locker room I'm overwhelmed with helmet taps, pats on the back and calls of "hell of a game Cap." The sight of the collected hats piled at my locker cubby only serves to further lift my spirits. I feel on top of the world.

"What a fuckin' night, boys!" I yell and my statement is met with a resounding cheer from my teammates. "I appreciate all the love but remember this is a team sport and I wouldn't have had a chance at a hatty without all of you. We're going to the mother fucking playoffs as division champs!" Thunderous and rowdy cheers and foot stomps echo off the walls.

"You gonna celebrate with us Hansen?" Wesley calls out from a few lockers over. His eyebrows are raised and he looks like he has a feeling he might know the answer. He plays his surprise off well though when I accept the invitation.

With how I'm feeling I would have gone either way but the conversation from a few weeks ago with my bosses has been weighing heavily on me. I know Jax hasn't done much of anything to present himself in a better light to management and that concerns me. I can't help him make better decisions if I'm not around when he's being an idiot so my desire to go out is two-fold. Well, really there is a third reason but it's one I don't want to acknowledge. Since the day in the locker room the last time I'd gotten razzed for my lack of desire to party I've worried that my bond with the team, my position as someone to look up to isn't as stable as I had previously thought. I want to be someone my teammates can trust. Someone they look up to. Someone they want to emulate. I want to be worthy of the C I wear across my chest. And going out with the team tonight I hope will be a step in the right direction to feeling worthy of that title.

*

I rarely drink. When I do it's usually one beer, two max. A childhood spent watching your dad rot away his liver with whiskey will do that to a guy. Watching him wither away until he finally let the alcohol kill him scarred me for life. Talking about my dad and his alcoholism isn't something I do. Ever. And that's why my teammates don't know the line they're crossing when they hound me to have another drink. I'm nursing my Heineken, hoping to placate them by keeping the bottle firmly in my hand. Doing my best to let go of my worries and inhibitions and simply enjoy a night with my team.

All of the boys are scattered throughout the side room at Malcolm's. Interspersed among us are scantily clad women, puck bunnies, looking for one night of fun. A few smile at me, one dares to attempt a conversation and I do my best to be diplomatic as I turn her down. One night stands aren't my thing. Maybe once upon a time, when I was younger and more easily influenced. These days I'm firmly set in my ways. 

I scan the crowd for my friends, unsurprised to find Wesley flanked by women on either side. The guy is a chick magnet and not even in an annoying way. His personality is just so naturally attractive to everyone, he makes everyone feel like his best friend and so he's never struggled to make friends, of many varieties, easily. 

Laughing with a shake of my head I look back out at the crowd and everything freezes. There she is. Dressed in dark jeans and a Cyclones sweater that she must've bought tonight. I find my hands clenching at my sides, dying to know who's name and number is across her back. There's a moment of surprise in my head when I realize that if the name is someone else's I'll be disappointed, maybe even a little jealous.

My chest deflates a little when she turns to face me head on and I don't see the C on the shoulder that would be present were it one of mine. I'm a little miffed when I can see the number on the side of the arm, 69. Which means she's wearing Jax's jersey. Figures. There's no time for me to dissect my emotions however as at that moment her eyes flick to mine and recognition crosses her face. The corners of her mouth lift in a smile and she heads in my direction, pulling a dark haired girl that looks vaguely familiar behind her.

"Great game tonight, Hayes!" Maggie praises, reaching out and placing her hand on my forearm. The gesture is purely platonic and yet my attention starved dicks springs to life. I try to be subtle as I move closer to the high top table I've been standing by, using it as a shield to hide the embarrassment of my hard on. God I'm pathetic.

"Hey, thanks!" I smile, lifting my beer to my lips to take a swig.

"This is Rachel, remember I told you her family owns this place."

"Oh right, your roommate. Hi!" I say extending my hand for a shake.

"Nice to officially meet you. I'm a big Cyclones fan, I've served you a few times here I think. I–"

Whatever she was about to say is cut off as a frantic server approaches her and mutters something I can't hear. With a huff and a roll of her eyes Rachel promises the worker she'll take care of something then turns her attention back to us.

"Never a dull moment in this place. There's a kitchen emergency I have to take care of. You good, Mags?" Maggie nods and then Rachel is gone.

"So what are you drinking?" I ask, trying to find something to make conversation with her about.

"Nothing. We were just supposed to be stopping by for her to check in with the staff before we headed home. I should've known she'd have to stay. I guess I'll go get a glass of wine though, she was my ride home so I'll have to wait for an uber and I'm sure they are still backed up from the game."

"I mean that is an option. Or if you want, I'll probably head out in about thirty minutes. I could just take you home." I swing my head around to the side so that I can see her better as she stands to my right.

Her eyes widen slightly and I wonder if that was too forward. It definitely was a bit bold, especially for me but I've given up on trying to rationalize why all of my inhibitions seem to disappear around her.

She swallows and I watch the lump in her throat work, wondering what it must be like to kiss her there. Fuck! When did I turn into such a sap.

"I would hate to put you out."

"It's not putting me out if I offered, Maggie."

She considers it for a moment and then finally relents with a nod. Inside my chest my heart jumps up to cheer. Her agreement feeling better than any of my goals tonight.

"Do I have time to grab a glass of wine?"

Shit. She can have all the time she needs.