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Tanner
Would I trade being a Ted Lindsay award winning player for being a top cheddar barista?
No.
However, it is fun to pretend to be one.
Proves my mitts can be silky even serving coffee.
The soft launch opening of the new LMC store has been about as insane as an autograph night.
While fans were technically invited out to see us, it was season ticket holders only.
Of course, they were allowed guests which explains the high ratio of bunnies to broskies we’ve had parading themselves around the building.
For two hours straight, we’ve worked the room busing tables, pouring drinks, and of course posing for pictures.
Posing for pictures is what we’re fucking here for.
Good press.
And despite the fact we haven’t had any bad press this season – misbehavior rumors really aren’t bad press, just a bit unflattering to the PR department – Hot Rocket seems to believe we need more good press points on the board for when the puck slides the other way because according to her, it always does.
Bit pessimistic; however, it is not my call to make.
It’s hers.
That’s why almost the whole team has been here putting in facetime.
Sadly, because it’s a team event that means I have to share Arden with my mates rather than have her all to myself.
She did write “Hamster Boy” and doodle a dick on the coffee cup I’ve been sipping from, so she’s at least with me in spirit.
I plop a giant marshmallow on the beverage, plaster a wide grin onto my face, and gingerly push it across the counter space. “Smashing s’mores cold chocolate for Pattssee!”
A tall blonde sporting a thick pink sweater but very thin white skirt leans over at the same time she asks, “Two ts, two ss, and two ees?”
“That would be the one.” Shooting her a wink occurs between statements. “Enjoy.”
“Can I record you handing it to me?” The ruffle of her hair causes the tits I know she paid for to slightly bounce. “That would be sooooo soooo amazingggggg.”
“Of course,” I retort prior to picking up the beverage. Once she has her phone in place, clearly ready to film the moment, I repeat the action, “Smashing s’mores cold chocolate for Pattssee!”
“That’s meeee,” she theatrically croaks on a playful tossing of the wrist and freeze frame.
Hm.
Odd.
“I’m hoping to be an actress,” the female who can’t be much younger than me quickly explains, “so I’m constantly uploading stuff to my feed that I think would catch a talent agent’s attention.”
Less odd.
“What did you think of that take?” She indulges in a tiny sip. “Should we do it again?”
“I am fairly certain twice was adequate.”
Giggles are given yet cut off when she sees my teammate. “ Ohmygod, you’re Peck! ”
He gives the back of his neck an uncomfortable scratch. “Uh…yeah?”
“You’re my other favorite player.”
“Snowman, your first?”
“Yes…” She lets her teeth steal a brazen bite of her bottom lip. “But only because he’s single.”
I am not.
“We all knoowwww the ‘secret girlfriend’ thing is just a publicity stunt.”
It isn’t.
“Sorrrryyyyy, like… who wouldn’t be all over him, all the time, for like everyone to see if he were actually off the market, ya know?”
I am romantically off the market, and first thing tomorrow morning, I’m letting Coach know.
Arden’s surgery is less than a week away, and I want to be there.
I’m going to be there for it.
Yes, it is just an in and out procedure, but I want to have her back.
Be on the assist.
The one who holds her hand and promises it’ll all be alright when it’s over.
I’ve never asked for time off; therefore, I cannot imagine Coach denying me the scratch, yet once I explain the who it’s for part, I know I’ll be sent to Hot Rocket to possibly be cut.
And I say possibly because in theory if I tell her…if I approach her regarding the situation…explain I pursued Ducky – though I won’t call her Ducky during the revealing – then the blame will fall on me to which I can remind her of the streak I’ve helped us keep up, the extra coverage I’ve delivered in Cap’s current new dad absence, and being the face of the mini docuseries she wants to continue into the future seasons, the same docuseries that helped get us into this position to begin with meaning it’s all her fault we fell in love.
Okay.
I need to rethink that last line.
It’s probably best not to blame the owner for us breaking the rules.
“You think I can get a picture with you two?” She brings her cup up to her glossed lips. “ Together? ”
Why does that sound more porntastic than it should?
“Yeah no, no problem,” Peck replies, preparing to ditch the LMC accessory covering the front of him.
“ Aprons on ,” purrs Pattssee.
Not gagging is difficult yet relocating to the other side of the counter isn’t.
“Ugh,” she pouts on a tiny wiggle, “we need more space.”
“There is a bit more towards the back by the restrooms.” I casually point. “I’ve seen other fans using it to pose with their signed materials while another takes the actual photo.”
“Perfect!” She grabs my hand with her free one, an action that has Peck lightly laughing at my expense.
Can’t blame him.
I would do the same if the situation were reversed.
The more secluded area stays that way thanks to her steady, shrill, squeaking insisting that people are going to mess up her shot.
Post her placing her cup on the decorative table, Peck and I each place a hand on her lower back, lean in, and smile for the photo op, suspecting that she’ll want more.
And she does.
Various positions are struck one after another, angles taken, recalibrated, and then executed to be taken again; however, by the time we’ve entered our sixth stance with Peck and I beyond bromantically close, there’s a spearing in my gut that has me believing these may be for her own personal fantasy collection.
Which is fine.
Honestly.
Everyone should have a spank tank.
I just don’t have to be part of the replenishing effort.
My mouth drops to declare that’s probably enough when Khurana pops his head around the corner to announce, “Peck, your fiancée is here.”
“Wings?!” His enthusiasm is instant. “Wings is here?!”
“I didn’t see her carrying wings,” Khurana confusedly counters, “but uh…maybe?”
Peck’s eyeroll is expected as is his swift self-dismal that unfortunately leaves me all alone with the wanna be Guinevere. “Can we do just a couple more?” She doesn’t leave room for denial and aggressively presses herself into my side, posing with one leg in the air. “Smolder.”
“What?”
“ Smolder. ” She presses her lips together in a small pout and leans inward towards the camera. “Like Beckham.” What I assume is meant to be a flirty look is executed. “Or Hunnam.” Her eyes meet mine in the camera. “Or Tiffin.”
“You do know they’re all English, yes?”
“So are you.”
Click, click, click, precedes me sighing, “ Doctenn. ”
“ Ohmygod ,” she cranes her face up to mine, “that’s so much hotter.” Another click is taken. “Can you like lean towards me and say your line again?”
Annoyance threatens to rear its ugly head when I snap my face downward. “It is not a line. I am Doctenn.”
Pattssee cups my cheek and coos, “ Perfect. ”
Her face crane closer to mine – too close in fact – prompting me to step away at the same time Arden steps in. “What the fuck’s going on back here?”
There isn’t even time to open my mouth to reply.
“And why are you back here?”
“The main room is too crowded for us to be together,” announces the female I can’t fight the feeling is about to be a point of contention.
“We were simply taking fan photos,” I promptly explain, hands lifting in surrender.
“What’s next, fan nudes ?” Her arms fold firmly across her Dalvegan polo covered chest. “ OnlyFans lives?”
“ Tell me you do those! ” gleefully squeals the blonde. “What’s your handle or whatever?”
“Listen, Pattssee wit h two ts, two ss, and two ees-”
“That’s an awful lot of information to know about a ‘fan’ you supposedly just met.”
“I served her coffee.”
“ That better be all you fucking served her, Tanner. ”
“ Of course that’s all I bloody served her, Arden. ”
“Should I go?” She idiotically asks only to immediately be met by two sets of scowls. “Yeah, I should so go.”
“Yeah, you so should,” murmurs my girlfriend through gritted teeth.
Pattssee scurries out of sight, her departure presenting me with an opening to clarify the scene, “I can explain-”
“Yeah no, I don’t want you to explain.”
“You don’t want me to explain?” Furrowing of my brow can’t be stopped. “You don’t want to understand what was ensuing?”
“No, I don’t not, not want you to explain. I want you not in positions where you have to explain.”
“She just wanted a few photos with me and Pecks not in a crowded space.”
“Pecks who isn’t here?”
“He may not be here now; however, he was!”
“Sure, he was.”
“He was!”
“I believe you.”
“You don’t!”
“Why wouldn’t I?! Could it be because this feels an awful lot like when Wahl was around then magically wasn’t when it was your turn to allegedly cop a feel of that broadskie in Jersey?”
“She asked us to sign her tits!”
“Or like having that rubber – you swear was for Potato – just fall out of your pocket at breakfast post a ridiculously late night at the ballet with the boys?”
“He needed the assist! I grabbed them from the hotel lobby restroom!”
“This is what I fucking mean, Tanner!” she harshly bites back. “I get it! You have a job to do! Fans to please! People on your nuts, but I’m so tired of you ending up in these compromising positions leaving me to make questionable calls that have me wondering if I can really trust you!”
“What on bloody earth have I ever done not to deserve your trust?!”
“Fucking my sister for one thing!”
“That was a mistake! I admitted that!”
“And yet every time I turn my back it seems like you’re one puck drop away from repeating it with every sleet slut that behaves just like her!”
“ That’s. Not. Fair. ” Stepping forward is done on a finger stab in the air. “ You’re the one who insists on me keeping up this bloody puck bunny chasing facade instead of the happily slayed puckhead that I am so that you don’t risk losing your fucking job! You’re the one who forces me to go out alone and be seen near other females essentially givin’ all of soc’ material for their man whore fairytales so that no one suspects that I’m actually dating the woman who is constantly documenting my entire existence! You’re the one who demands this much bloody distance whenever we’re in public simply to leave no space for anyone to question whether your loyalty is to your bloody job or me.” Outrage rips through me prompting me to chomp, “ Like I don’t fucking matter to you nearly as much as it does. ”
“Yeah, because I see you just pounding on the boss’s door, begging to be traded so we can publicly be together!”
“No need to pound,” Hennington unexpectedly interjects into the conversation, snapping our stare to where she’s standing beside Audrey as well as Khurana who has been filming for some unknown amount of time. “ This was plenty. ”