Page 20 of Rule 1: Never Accidentally Marry Your Teammate

Because I’m sure that Noah is a new friend. That’s why I felt so upset when I let him down at the party. I didn’t protect him. Not like I should have. Not like how Noah deserves.

The bus stops at the hotel, and I rush out, making sure Noah is behind me. “We’re going out.”

“Okay.”

“Meet me in the lobby after you’ve changed.”

He nods, his face somber, then hesitates. “What should I wear?”

My gaze flickers to him. He’s in his suit, like me. I crane my neck slightly, taking him in. His pale skin look striking against his black suit, and I stare into his green eyes, more wide-set than most people’s, a fraction longer than necessary.

But that makes sense. I have to assess what he should wear. It only is reasonable that I should remind myself what he looks like. Not that it would be possible to forget, of course.

He looks good though. “You probably shouldn’t wear a suit.”

His face falls. “I didn’t pack going out clothes.”

“Why—” I stop myself. I know why he thought we weren’t going out. “We’re not playing tomorrow.”

Noah nods.

“So Coach wouldn’t mind if we go dancing or something. Everyone else is.”

“Do you want to go dancing?”

I press my lips together.

I fucking love going dancing. Love it.

But if I’m honest, what I want is to rant about Evan and Vinnie.

“Join me in my hotel room.” I glance at other members of the team. “Troy is going out. It will be empty.”

He gives me an uncertain nod, and there’s a nervousness I can’t place.

“Theminibar isn’t empty,” I assure him, then I lead him to the elevator.

Maybe it’s a bit odd to take him there, but I’m not going to complain about my not-really-out captain and his boyfriend and also not-really-out defenseman in a Vegas bar. I have some discretion, whatever people think.

Hell, this is my fault for not including information on Evan and Vinnie when I showed Noah around.

I’m relieved when the elevator stops on my floor, and I guide Noah to my room.

Noah looks suitably impressed when we enter, and I grin, as if I’m showing a girl to my apartment for the first time.

“This room is awesome,” he says, taking in the view.

I watch his eyes go from dull to glittering, and I grin.

I give a modest smile since I didn’t choose it.

“More senior members get higher up rooms.”

“With views.”

“Yeah.”

He goes to the window and peers down. “There’s the Eiffel Tower.”