ANASTASIA
The screenshot from Bellamy completely ruined my mood for the rest of the night, and I sat on the edge of my hotel bed staring at the floor.
The online comments under the post weren’t terrible yet, but they were definitely enough to remind me of everything that happened at my old company.
I kept reading the words over and over until my eyes rolled, and I felt a small lump forming in my throat.
Bellamy had tried reassuring me through several text messages, and she promised she would monitor the situation closely, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
I turned off my phone screen and tucked it under my pillow, but the uncomfortable thoughts stayed in my head and kept me awake for hours.
~
The next morning, I followed the team to the local practice arena, and I spent most of my time taking photos.
Everything was going smoothly during the skating drills, and the players were focusing on their line plays, but my luck ran out when one of the assistant coaches walked over and approached me.
He stood beside my camera gear bag, holding a clipboard in his hands, and he casually asked about the online rumors.
"Hey, Anastasia, have you seen the stuff people are posting on the main hockey boards today?" the assistant coach asked, looking down at his coffee cup. "Some blog is trying to say you had a huge problem at your last sports magazine job, and people are starting to ask questions about it."
My stomach dropped immediately when I heard his words, and I felt a cold chill run down my spine.
I tightly gripped the handle of my camera, trying hard to keep my hands from shaking in front of him.
"I didn’t do anything wrong at my last job, Coach," I said, keeping my voice as flat and professional as possible. "The company made a mistake, and the whole situation was just a massive misunderstanding.
"Don’t worry too much about it, kid," the coach said, turning his attention back to the ice rink. "People online love to talk about the Titans, and the front office handles all the media drama anyway, so just keep taking your pictures."
The conversation reminded me that people still remembered the old scandal, and it proved that my past reputation was going to follow me everywhere I went.
I spent the rest of the practice session trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in my chest, but my mind was completely distracted and I missed a few good action shots because I was staring into space.
Later that afternoon, the team finished their media obligations, and we all returned to the main hotel lobby.
Cassian invited several of his younger teammates to a casual burger restaurant down the street, and he spent ten minutes following me around until he somehow convinced me to join them for dinner.
Since Bellamy wasn’t here with me, and I hadn’t made many friends in New York yet, I finally agreed to go along with them because I didn’t want to sit alone in my small hotel room all evening.
The dinner actually ended up being very fun, and the restaurant was loud and casual.
The players spent most of the night teasing each other and they shared a lot of embarrassing stories from their rookie seasons.
For the first time since I took the photography job, I started seeing these guys as normal people instead of famous hockey athletes, and the constant tension in my shoulders began to fade away.
Unfortunately, Cassian spent most of the dinner sitting right beside me in the cramped booth.
He kept making loud jokes at the table, and he kept reaching over to steal french fries directly from my plate without asking me first.
He was acting like we had known each other for years, and his constant attention was drawing looks from the other side of the table.
"You need to stop eating all my food, Cassian," I said, pushing my plate away from his elbow with a small laugh.
"I am just helping you finish your meal, Ana," Cassian said, flashing his deep dimples and shaking his head. "You eat like a bird, and we have a major game tomorrow, so somebody has to keep their energy up."
Near the very end of the meal, the conversation slowed down a bit, and one of the older players looked across the table at us with a curious smirk.
"Hey, Brooks, are you finally taking dating seriously this season, or are you just bothering the new staff members because you like the attention?" the player asked, leaning his forearms on the table.
Before Cassian could even open his mouth to answer the question, a familiar deep voice interrupted the conversation from the front door of the restaurant.
"He needs to focus on hockey, not on his dating life," the voice said.
Thiago had just arrived at the restaurant, and he was standing right by the edge of our table.
He was wearing a black jacket, and his grey eyes looked completely cold and serious as he looked down at the group.
The entire table went completely silent, and the younger players immediately stopped laughing and adjusted their seats.
The captain looked from Cassian straight to my face, and then he quietly took the empty chair located directly across from the two of us.
He sat down slowly, crossing his arms over his chest and staring right at my plate.
"Good evening, Captain," Cassian said, but his smile looked a bit smaller now. "We were just grabbing some food before the curfew tonight."
"The bus leaves at seven tomorrow morning, Brooks," Thiago said, and his deep voice carried a lot of coldness . "Make sure you are ready to play."
The rest of the dinner suddenly became much more uncomfortable for everyone at the table, and nobody shared any more embarrassing stories for the rest of the night.
I kept my eyes fixed on my plate, feeling Thiago’s intense gaze on me, and I wished I had stayed in my hotel room alone.