In My Rearview Mirror, JACK.HUGHES

SIXTEEN

As the bus door opens upon arrival, I rise from my seat and conduct a quick check to ensure I haven't left anything behind. Waving my hand to signal Braden to go ahead of me, he complies, and I follow suit. 

As we walk into the hotel lobby, my eyes catch Morgan with her new friends waiting, though not for me. Opting to wait by the elevator as it descends, I notice the blonde-haired girl who shared my room the previous night. Memories of our shared experiences flood my thoughts, making my heart race momentarily.

She approaches Braden, congratulates him on the victory, and seals it with a rather intense kiss. Even her "non-boyfriend" looks taken aback, a silent confirmation that their relationship might be more complicated than it initially seemed.

Observing Morgan's enthusiastic congratulations to Braden, a wave of annoyance washes over me. In my eyes, he shouldn't be receiving hugs; I've had to bail him out multiple times during the game. I can't stand his perpetually positive attitude, and in my book, he doesn't really know how to play. He embodies the type of person I find insufferable.

People often label me as having a bit of an attitude, deeming me arrogant. However, it's not about arrogance; it's about a lack of trust. Rule number one: never let them know your next move. This philosophy has served me well in the world of hockey

Before stepping in to potentially diffuse the situation, I catch Eva's gaze. Her intrigued expression suggests she may suspect something beneath the surface. I give her a curt nod before entering the elevator.

After stepping into my room, I waste no time jumping into the shower and changing into a casual outfit. Opting for a black Yankees cap paired with a royal blue hoodie and black jeans, I opt for a laid-back yet stylish look. Taking a quick five minutes to browse my Twitter feed, I notice several people spotted us at the bar yesterday, but it's nothing new—I'm used to the attention.

Morgan posted a picture in her instagram story, and I can't help myself but to look at it for a couple of minutes, contemplating her happiness. The image captured a moment of celebration, surrounded by friends.

Sending a couple of snaps in the group chat, I grab my coat and use my phone to locate the restaurant for the evening. 

I knew the restaurant was close to the hotel, but I didn't realize it was just on the other side of the street. Upon entering, I spot a few of my teammates and players from the other team who decided to join us. we've managed to occupy half of the restaurant's capacity.

I exchange greetings with a couple of guys, engaging in fist bumps. 

We share jokes and discuss tonight's game, reflecting on how it played out. "Yes, we're going home tomorrow too," Bedard remarks, gesturing towards his real-life teammate, Alex Vlasic. I reminisce about the times when Alex and I played together on Team USA, but it's been a while since we've caught up. I seize the opportunity to reconnect with him. This is one of the aspects I appreciate about NHL events — the chance to meet new people and catch up with old friends.

I order myself a beer and, as I wait for it, I notice Braden Schneider entering the restaurant. However, there's no sign of Morgan, which makes me yawn in boredom. Usually, wherever he goes, she goes. I don't spot her, but I do see Trevor following him. In an attempt to appear taller, I get up from the bar, even though I'm already like five eleven.

Everyone around me seems thrilled to see Braden, except for me. "God, I had to twist his arm for him to come," Trevor grumbles as he signals to the barmaid to order a beer. I release a mirthless chuckle before taking a sip of my own. "Nobody twisted yours to do that. He could've stayed in his room. Can't stand him," I mutter, my disdain for Braden evident.