Page 17 of Slew Foot (Scoring Chances #3)

Hoyt didn’t seem like the type though.

“No. Not usually.” Mickey frowned. “Why? Were you thinking about meeting up with someone?”

“Huh? No,” Rafe said. “I don’t know anyone in Dallas.”

Well, that wasn’t totally true, there was a guy on the Dallas team he’d played with in Juniors and another he sort of knew from some event or other but they weren’t close enough that they made plans. Just kinda nodded across the red line during warmups.

“Oh, okay.”

Rafe followed Mickey off the bus and into the lobby where the team sprawled on the couches or wandered around the lobby while they waited for their room assignments.

Tanner and Jesse were yammering at one another on the couch across from them so Rafe kinda zoned, half-listening for his name, half-eavesdropping on their dumb conversation about the best kind of barbecue.

Duh, obviously it was Carolina-style. But Rafe was kinda biased because he’d been drafted by the Carolina team and had lived there and played for their AHL team for a few years before he’d been traded.

Mickey stood a moment later and Tanner got up too.

Rafe tapped his foot on the carpet until his name was called, then stood and grabbed his key card, falling in behind them as they made a beeline for the elevators.

“Dude! Give me my key!” Tanner protested, grabbing for the one in Mickey’s hand.

“No,” Mickey protested. “They gave both of them to me for a reason. You lose them all the time. You’re not doing it again .”

“You’re not the boss of me!” Tanner protested.

“Well, someone needs to be,” Mickey shot back.

“Oh! I didn’t realize you roomed together on the road too,” Rafe said, surprised.

“Entry-level contracts,” Mickey said drily. They all filed onto the elevator, cramming in with the other guys who were already on. It was already too packed, especially with all their luggage, but if they squeezed together a little bit more … he turned and plastered himself to Mickey’s side.

“Oh right. I don’t miss that,” Rafe said with a laugh. “It’s nice to have my own room.”

Though, that was kind of a lie. It was what guys always said but Rafe thought it was more fun when he had people to hang out with. He’d like staying up late watching movies or TV, talking about dumb shit until they passed out mid-sentence.

Mickey laughed at something someone else had said now and the movement jostled his body, his knuckles grazing Rafe’s thigh.

“Sorry,” Mickey said, staring straight ahead, his mouth pulled into a tight line like he was mad about something.

“You’re fine.” Rafe tried to pull away but someone else was right behind him and he finally gave up, letting himself relax against Mickey.

He seemed tense though, his body stiff as he blinked a lot. Hmm, maybe he didn’t like elevators?

When they finally reached their floor, everyone poured out and Mickey let out a big sigh.

“Are you acrophobic?” Rafe asked, carefully pronouncing it and pleased he’d remembered the word.

“Huh?” Mickey looked confused. “No? I’m not afraid of heights.”

“Oh.” Now Rafe was confused. “What’s the one where people don’t like tight spaces?”

He’d been trying to sound smart but he’d kinda failed at that one.

“Claustrophobic, I think? No, I’m not that either.”

“I get them mixed up,” Rafe said with a shrug. “My teammate in Minnie was afraid of heights. I thought maybe you were like, afraid of being squeezed in there or something. I was worried about you.”

Mickey gave him a soft look. “Thanks. But no. I’m fine.”

“’Cause you seemed all tense,” Rafe said because he felt like he was onto something important here.

“I was, uh, doing the math and trying to figure out if we were all too heavy for the elevator,” Mickey said.

Rafe laughed. “There’s probably a phobia for that too.”

“Probably.” Mickey smiled at him.

“Dude, would you either give me the key or like, quit fucking flirting in the hall long enough to let me into our room,” Tanner said, throwing up his arms.

Rafe jumped because he’d kinda forgotten he was there. The rest of the guys had disappeared too, walking down the hall or already in their rooms.

“We’re not flirting!” Rafe and Mickey both protested, almost in unison.

Tanner rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I’ve gotta pee. Can I get in the room or not?”

“Fine!” Mickey said, turning and walking down the hall. “I’ll let you in.”

Rafe followed, not even really thinking about it but after Mickey unlocked the door and let Tanner in, Mickey turned to face him, one foot stuck in the doorway to keep it open.

“I think you’re in another room,” Mickey said gently.

“Oh! Yeah, I bet I am,” Rafe said with a laugh. He’d gotten so used to following Mickey and Tanner everywhere that he’d been on autopilot or something. He glanced at his keycard, then pointed down the hall. “Two doors down, that way.”

“Cool. See you at dinner?”

“Sounds good,” Rafe agreed and kept walking.

“ Dude ,” Tanner said when he came out of the bathroom.

Mickey had flopped onto the bed closest to the window—because Tanner liked being by the door and Mickey didn’t particularly care one way or another—and thrown an arm up over his eyes.

“What?” Mickey asked testily, peering out at him through the sliver between his eyelids and his arm but unwilling to move otherwise.

“You and Rafe. What the fuck?”

“What about us?” Mickey asked.

“C’mon. You can’t tell me there isn’t a little something happening there.” Tanner waggled his eyebrows.

Mickey closed his eyelids and settled his arm more firmly across his eyes. There, now he wouldn’t have to look at Tanner’s stupid face anymore.

“Nothing is happening,” he protested.

I just have a massive crush on him and can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to put him on his knees and tell him exactly what I want him to do , he finished silently. Because he sure as hell wasn’t telling Tanner.

It was bad enough that Tanner had figured some of it out on his own. Ugh. He wasn’t even that smart and he’d put the pieces together.

Anyone with half a braincell would catch on. Thankfully, Mickey was pretty sure Rafe was too oblivious to notice.

And he meant that with the utmost affection because Rafe was so sweet but he was … kind of a himbo. Like, he wasn’t stupid . He had a lot of hockey smarts, and he could knit and he was funny and …

Ugh . This was getting so bad.

At first, he’d thought the not-so-bright but sweet vibes were because Rafe was tired from his trip and still adjusting to the new team but the dark circles under his eyes were long gone and he was joking around more with the guys and Mickey was pretty sure no, that’s how Rafe was.

And damn it, he liked it.

He liked the wide-eyed way Rafe watched him and his slow smile when something finally clicked and while it might have been a turn-off to a lot of people, it made Mickey want to wrap Rafe up and take care of him .

And God help him, it seemed like Rafe was into having someone tell him what to do and Mickey was so fucking screwed it wasn’t even funny. Every time he tried to pull away a little, Rafe looked at him with those big, stupid brown cow eyes like he was sad, and Mickey crumpled.

Sure, Rafe, you can sit by me on the plane and the bus and move in with Tanner and me and spend every second of the season with me.

Why not? Mickey thought semi-hysterically.

We’ll be inseparable until the off-season, and I’ll go through fucking withdrawals over the Atlantic Ocean on the flight to Frankfurt.

And then he realized with horror how melodramatic he was being. Oh no, the North Americans were finally getting to him.

Something soft hit Mickey’s stomach and he let out a little oof , sitting up to glare at Tanner who had apparently thrown a pillow at him.

“Dude. You’re boring. I’m going to see if anyone else wants to hang,” Tanner said. “See you later.”

Mickey scowled. “See you at dinner, asshole.”

After the door clicked shut behind Tanner, Mickey grabbed the pillow, jammed it against his face, and screamed into it.

It didn’t help anything, but he did feel slightly better by the time he pushed it away.

Or maybe that was the lack of oxygen talking.