Love Game

Chapter Seven - Opening Night

Gabe's POV

Opening Night. The date was finally here. The date that every hockey player had circled on their calenders. The date that could possibly determine the rest of the season. Opening Night was the first game of the year and we always wanted to make a good impression, especially when we were playing in front of our home crowd.

Our fans had gone through every roller coaster, up and down, emotional season with us. We had come up short so many years and we were getting frustrated, and so were the fans. We had to win the Cup this season. Not only for us, but for them- the fans. They deserved it more than anyone else.

I can also name a few teammates that deserve the Cup, as well. Matt Duchene, Paul Stastny, Semyon Varlamov just to name a few. But then there is the one I realize deserves the Cup more than I do, and that's Mallory Hamilton.

Mallory has worked so hard through out training camp and preseason, looking to make a good impression towards the organization, her teammates, and the fans. She has tried not letting the pressure get to her, but when I look into her sparkling blue eyes, I notice she is hurting even if she won't admit it. I told her repeatedly that I was here for her, that I was her guardian and her shoulder to cry on, but she hasn't opened up much to me at all. I've seen her do some crazy things, like jumping up and down on her bed while listening to Katy Perry, or trying to play hacky-sack with a hockey puck, but she won't show me the side I've been dying to see. Her vulnerable side.

Sure, Mallory has occasionally given me the blinding white smile, or maybe a hug just out of the blue. Maybe she doesn't want to be pushed into having to think she has to talk to me. Maybe she'll come into my room in the middle of the night and just lay it all on the line. Maybe she's scared I'll judge her in some way. I possibly couldn't ever judge her. I don't see anything wrong with her.

As I shake my head clear from any distracting thoughts, I find myself in a crowded locker room surrounded by my teammates. My eyes scan the room for the auburn haired girl, not seeing her anywhere in sight. I ask the coaching staff if they had seen her, but they all shake their heads. She was just with me when we drove to Pepsi Center. Where could she possibly be?

I search the training room, no Mallory. I look in the medical room, no Mallory. I scratch my head as I think of where else she could be. I make my way into the bathroom, seeing stalls and showers lined up. Maybe she was in here with pregame jitters.

"Mallory? Are you in here?" I call out, hearing a cough at the end of a long line of stalls soon after. The cough didn't sound like, well, a mans cough. It must have been Mallory.

I rush down to the stall, softly knocking on the black door, seeing it crack open slightly. I look down at the floor and I see Mallory kneeling over the toilet, her auburn hair hanging in her face as her grips the bowl of the toilet with her pale hands. Nerves?

"Mallory? Are you alright?" I kneel down beside her, pulling her hair away from her face, seeing paleness starting to overtake her body.

"Nervous," she says weakly before turning her head back to the toilet, proceeding to vomit.

I wasn't going to lie, the smell of vomit made me want to, well, you know, vomit. But I wasn't going to leave her like this. I was her captain. I needed to calm her nerves in any way possible. I hold her hair with one hand as I rub her back with the other, trying desperately not to breathe in the aroma in the air of the closed space.

"I'm sorry you have to see me like this," she whispers, wiping her mouth clean with some toilet paper. "I'm just really nervous."

"I was in your shoes a few years ago." I reply, still rubbing her back. "It gets better. Trust me. When you step out on to the ice, the nerves you are feeling now will be a distant memory."