Best Played
© 2021 Camellia Tate. All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Chapter One
Roxi
A stadium of 18,000 people roared as the Salt Lake Pumas emerged onto the ice. The noise was nearly deafening, men and women screaming the names of their favorite players louder and louder, all competing to be heard, to show their support. Lacey and I, best friends for eight years and counting, joined in.
“Will!” Lacey hollered, jumping up and down to throw her arms higher into the air. As if by magic, Will Green, the Pumas’ biggest, burliest defenceman turned towards her and waved back.
“Olle! Olle!” I chanted. Olle Sandström, the goalie, made no move to acknowledge the noise I was making. Of course, I wasn’t really expecting him to. Will and Lacey had been dating for a year. The fact that he recognized her voice, even in an ear-splitting stadium, wasn’t magic, it was love.
Olle and I, on the other hand, had met one whole time. He’d signed a jersey for me, asking politely how I’d come to know Lacey before apologizing that he couldn’t spend more time chatting. It hadn’t exactly been a life-changing moment for either of us. Lacey had been more disappointed than I was. She’d been hoping that introducing us would kick off some grand romance.
I’d been perfectly satisfied with my autographed Pumas memorabilia. If I still poured over Olle’s interviews in the glossy magazines, it was only because the pictures that came with them were so very mouth-watering. Lacey would never agree with me, but Olle was the best-looking player the Pumas had sent onto the ice in my eight years of supporting them.
As the commentators announced the beginning of the match, the crowd surged into a more general din. It was impossible to make out individual words any longer. There was just a wall of noise that swept from one end of the stadium to the other. I grinned. This was what I loved about the NHL: the atmosphere, feeling part of something so much huger than myself that I could barely discern its edges.
And yet, as the puck flew from stick to stick, I struggled to keep my eyes on it. Usually, I fell into the zone immediately, only emerging to highlight particularly impressive plays to Lacey.
Today, there was something else nagging at my attention. I could hear my own voice ringing in my ears, blithely promising my sister something I had no way to deliver.
“I’m not going to be alone, Rach! But you can’t ask me any more questions, because I was going to keep it a surprise for you…”
It was a stupid lie. I’d regretted it as soon as I’d heard Rachel’s excited squeal on the other end of the phone. Being single had never bothered me, but Rachel was the kind of person who couldn’t help imagining herself in other people’s shoes. If the situation had been reversed, and Rachel hadn’t been able to bring a date to my wedding, it would have made her miserable. Seeing happy couples everywhere she looked would have gotten under her skin.
Even I could admit that going stag to a wedding was a special kind of awkward. With all the focus on love and happily-ever-after, it was easy to get caught up in the idea that finding a partner was the only key to long-lasting happiness.
Besides, I was too old to want to get hit on by a groomsman, no matter how cute Tim’s friends might be.
If Rachel hadn’t called, worrying already about how her happiness might make me feel bitter, I would have taken a friend. Someone to sit with me so that Rachel couldn’t look over and see me seemingly lonely.
But Rachel had called, and I’d wanted to set her mind to rest at once. So I’d told her I was bringing someone - and now I had three weeks to figure out who that was going to be!
I hadn’t been on a date in months, and Rachel knew too much about my male friends to believe I’d suddenly fallen for any of them. I needed to find somebody, and fast. Until I sorted that out, I just couldn’t focus on the Pumas, no matter how well they were playing!
Lacey obviously noticed, because she prodded my arm and gave me her best ‘what’s with you?’ face.
“Sorry,” I muttered, “but you don’t happen to know any cute guys who want a free trip to Tennessee, do you?”
The question obviously wasn’t one that Lacey had expected. It took her a moment to comprehend it. She glanced back at the hockey and I could practically see her weighing up whether to focus on me or on the game. I couldn’t blame her, of course. If my mind hadn’t been racing, I would be in the same position.
Luckily for me, Lacey was a great best friend, because it was me she chose over hockey.
“I don’t,” she answered. “At least I don’t think I do? What is this for? Why does he have to be a cute guy and not an adorable best friend?” she added, wiggling her eyebrows in a way that made me laugh.
“Because you’re taken, and not my type,” I answered, still smiling. Even if Lacey didn’t have the solution to my problem, at least I could count on her to cheer me up.
Shaking my head, I started to explain. “Rachel called, worrying that her getting married was going to make me feel frustrated and bitter.” Even though I was younger than her, Rachel did have a point.
In the last year and a half, people in my life had started pairing up like they were in one of those end-of-the-world zombie movies. Not just Rachel and Tim setting the date for their wedding, but Lacey and Will moving in together, and two of our other friends getting together at last.
I bit my lip, fully aware that what I’d done was foolish at best. “I sort of told her that I was seeing someone, and that he’d already agreed to come with me and meet my family.”
Lacey’s eyes widened; that was fair. It wasn’t a very smart move on my part. Now, I was likely going to have to tell Rachel that I broke up with my imaginary boyfriend. But Lacey, being the great friend that she is, instantly started thinking of a solution.
“Well, I could always ask Olle,” she teased, making me groan. The last thing I needed was for Lacey to embarrass me by telling someone I’d had an almost decade-long crush on that I made up a boyfriend so my sister would stop asking. Giving my arm a light shove, Lacey shook her head.
“No, but really,” she continued. “When is your sister getting married? Could you meet someone new by then?” Even as Lacey said it, she knew how weird it would be to meet someone new now and straight away invite them to come to my family home for my sister’s wedding.
“That would be a fast-track to the end of that relationship,” I pointed out. Even the idea of taking a boyfriend home to meet my father brought me out in a cold sweat. Daddy loved me, but he was also fiercely protective. The few times I’d brought dates home during high school, he’d scared them senseless and told me I deserved better. I doubted I could find someone who’d meet his high standards in the little time I had before I needed to fly home.
Reaching into my bag, I pulled out my cell, tapping on the icon that launched my calendar app. “I’ve got three weeks, but you know what my schedule is like.” I showed Lacey the rest of the month on screen, every day already crammed with color-coded events and appointments. “I could maybe fit, like, two date nights in, if I canceled some things.”
Two dates was nowhere near enough to ask someone to come spend a week with my overwhelming family.
“Yeah,” she agreed slowly. “That’s... a dumb lie to tell your sister.” Her words made me give Lacey a look, my e
yes narrowing and she raised her hands up in a mock-defense pose. “Hey, I’m just telling you the truth.”
And yes, she was. That was the problem. I’d dug myself a hole I had no idea how to get out of. “We’ll figure something out,” Lacey promised me. “I mean, even if that something is trying to decide what’s the best way to tell your sister you are going to be going to the wedding on your own after all.”
I winced. Showing up to my sister’s wedding alone would be bad enough. Showing up pretending to be recently-dumped was a million times worse! We needed to find a better solution than that, or else I’d be responsible for ruining what was supposed to be the happiest day of Rachel’s life!
“Maybe Olle isn’t such a bad idea, after all,” I muttered. “Daddy could hardly tell me that the NHL’s star goalie isn’t good enough.”
Lacey laughed, her attention turning back towards the match - and to her own favorite NHL stud. I let her, pushing my problems to the back of my mind. We would find a solution - but it could wait until after the Pumas had whooped the other team’s asses!
By the end of the match, I’d gotten completely caught up in the thrill of a top-level competition. I’d supported the Pumas for eight years, and they’d been moving from strength to strength. This year could finally be the year that they brought home the Stanley Cup!
Turning to Lacey, I threw my arms around her and squeezed her tight. “Will played brilliantly!” I squealed. “I’ve never seen the puck move so fast. And Olle didn’t let in a single goal!”
A 4-0 victory was certainly something to celebrate. When Lacey asked if I wanted to come with her to the Salt Lake Pumas’ after-party, of course I said yes!
This wasn’t my first time, but I still needed Lacey to tell the Uber driver the right address. We pulled up at an enormous house a little way outside the city limits, the music already blaring from inside.
Once we’d stashed our jackets and purses, Lacey wiggled off to find Will and I attached myself to a group of NHL girlfriends opening dips and chips and other snacks. Even as I made myself useful, I couldn’t help but feel as if this was something out of a daydream. I was standing in the kitchen of the Salt Lake Pumas’ captain, about to celebrate an epic win with the rest of the team!
When I moved to Salt Lake City eight years ago, I never imagined my life would turn out like this!
Looking up from a jar of salsa, my grin grew even wider as I recognized Olle Sandström heading right in my direction. He was probably lured more by the food than by my presence, but I wasn’t above capitalizing on that.
“Hey!” I greeted, hoping I sounded casual and not like a crazed fan. “That was an amazing performance tonight.”
For a moment, it looked like he was almost confused by the compliment, but then he gave me a soft smile. “Thanks,” he replied, only a slight tinge of Swedish accent in his voice. I remembered reading an interview in which Olle said that he’d lived in the US long enough to sometimes be mistaken for an American.
As someone who could only speak one language, it always amazed me how easily and fluently people seemed to pick up English. “Who are you here with?” Olle asked and it struck me that while I could recite soundbites he’d given, Olle had clearly forgotten the one time we’d met. I couldn’t even fault him; he must sign hundreds of jerseys.
“Lacey brought me,” I answered, giving Olle my most killer smile. I wasn’t offended that he didn’t remember me - but I was still going to try to make more of an impression this time around! “She’s my best friend. We watched the game together, so, of course, I jumped at the chance to celebrate with the team.”
Offering my hand for Olle to shake, I added, “I’m Roxi. Roxi Parker. And you’re Olle.” I could have gushed about how long I’d been a fan, told him that I’d had his jersey framed and put on my wall, but that really did seem like coming on too strong.
“So, how do you feel like celebrating?” I asked, my tone a little teasing. “Wine? Beer? Spicy salsa?”
Olle chuckled at that and my stomach flipped. I had made that happen! It was hard not to feel like I had achieved something special. Especially with how he grinned at me.
“Spicy salsa,” Olle answered. “Wine for you?” he asked, nodding at my glass. I had to give it to the Pumas’ parties, there were no plastic cups in sight. Everyone had been provided with glasses, including appropriate wine glasses for the wine.
“Yes, please. I think it’s probably a family rule that I must celebrate with wine, unless that’s absolutely not an option.” As I rooted around for a bowl to decant some salsa and chips into, I explained. “My parents own a vineyard. I’ve been an expert in American wines since before I could legally drink.”
Olle smiled, holding the bottle out for me to inspect. I waved it away. “I’m sure it will be fine. Being an expert means knowing how to enjoy almost any kind of wine.” Sure, there were some that were truly cheap and unpleasant, but I doubted Olle would find any of those in his captain’s kitchen.
Now that I had told him I was fine to drink the wine, Olle poured some in the glass for me, before setting the bottle back down on the table. “So a vineyard?” he repeated. “That sounds... exciting? I grew up in the city, so it sounds exciting to me.”
Reaching for the bowl with a soft ‘thank you’, Olle gave me another smile. “Do you work in vines, too, then? Family business?”
“It is exciting!” I agreed. “Tennessee is the most beautiful place. I know everybody probably says that about their home state - or country, but a lot of those people are just wrong.” To me, at least, a desert state would never be as stunning as Tennessee’s rolling green hills. “But I like it here, too,” I added. “City life suits me, as long as I can still get out into the country on weekends.”
I’d never completely be a city girl, I knew that, but that didn’t mean that I didn’t enjoy the nightlife. “My brother went into the family business, he’s the oldest. I moved out here to be a property manager. Which is kind of like what my mom does, even if it’s not directly related. I learned a lot of my skills from her.”
Olle nodded like what I was saying genuinely interested him. It struck me as pretty... nice. Truthfully, I couldn’t imagine that he actually cared about my upbringing or what my brother did or what my mom did, or even what I did! I’d offered a lot of information and was almost ready to apologize for it when Olle spoke.
“I’ve been to Nashville before,” he commented. “But I don’t think my knowledge of Tennessee is very great. You make it sound very pretty. Is it a big vineyard that your family owns?” And it was hard to apologize for offering too much information when he was asking for more detail.
I was always happy to talk about home! “It’s not a huge vineyard, but it’s a very beautiful one,” I answered. “And I’m not just saying that because I’m biased. Mom’s turned it into more of a tourist destination that happens to also be a working vineyard. We have wine tastings, of course, and tours and horse-riding. We do a lot of weddings in the summer.”
This summer, of course, we were concentrating on Rachel’s wedding. But the number of people who wanted to get married at Parker Vineyards was proof that it really was objectively lovely. “It’s very different from Nashville,” I added.
“I’m sure,” Olle nodded.
There was a small pause, almost awkward but not quite. I was about to ask what Olle’s experience of growing up had been like, but one of the other players called out for him.
“Sorry,” Olle offered with an apologetic look. “I hope you enjoy the rest of the party. Thanks for the spicy salsa.” And just like that, he was gone. I could practically feel my heart beating. I’d had an actual real conversation with Olle! Though, perhaps I really needed to slow down on the talking about home so much.
After watching him leave - which was a truly great view - I turned to find Lacey. I needed to tell her about just how great this party was.
Chapter Two
Olle
Post-game parties weren’t nor
mally my thing. It was only really the fact that Luke was organizing it that had made me agree to come. So far, the party was alright. Luke was dating our nutritionist, which tended to mean that when food was served, it was both good and diet-friendly. Which was excellent, because after the sort of game we’d had, everyone was starving.
It took me no time to polish off the chips that Roxi had handed me. I felt a little guilty for abandoning our conversation. She’d seemed sweet and certainly cute, but I wasn’t looking right now, even if learning more about growing up on a vineyard did genuinely seem interesting.
But Chase had called me away for no better reason than to rant at me about some dumb videogame. It was tempting to just leave, but then more of the younger guys joined in. Somehow, the conversation turned from videogames to what drinks went well with videogames and then, of course, what drinks went well with other drinks.
“No, this is nice,” Alfie insisted. “Like vodka and um, rum? And some kind of juice. Not orange but like... what’s the other one?”
A chorus of ‘lemon’, ‘lime’ and ‘grapefruit’ resounded but it was Levi’s ‘kumquat’ that made the guys turn to him.
“Kumquat?” Alfie repeated. “It’s not... what kind of party do you think this is?” That then led to laughter and much teasing of Levi and his odd fruit choices. “No,” Alfie finally concluded. “I think it is grapefruit. I’ll make some for everyone!”
The announcement was met with a degree of excitement, but before Alfie could dash off to make us all what would inevitably be shit drinks, I spoke up. “Not for me, Reeves.”
I didn’t drink. It wasn’t exactly a huge secret but because I hardly ever came to these outings, a lot of the guys often forgot.
“But you can try this! It’s just one drink,” Alfie whined.
“No, thanks.” It was easy enough to refuse, but I could see that Alfie, who no doubt had had more than one grapefruit vodka concoction by now, wasn’t going to let it go that easily.
Best Played (Salt Lake Pumas) Page 1