“Fancy seeing you here,” Meghan said, circling the island in the kitchen while still rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

James was already dressed for the gym. “I didn’t realize you’d come home,” he said sharply.

She gave him a confused look. He wore a t-shirt over an Under Armour top with mesh shorts and a baseball cap was crammed backward over his wild hair. Any other day she would have played with the curls that stuck out above his ears, giving him a hard time but secretly loving them. Right now things seemed... charged.

“Where would I be?”

James glared at her. Why did she have to look so amazing, all fresh-faced like a fucking soap commercial? Why was she so completely different from every girl he ever met? And while James was at it, he wondered if Meghan couldn’t sleep in footie pajamas or a grandmother’s nightgown so he wouldn’t have to know she was across the hall in little cotton shorts and a camisole.

He didn’t answer, just raised one eyebrow like the answer should be obvious. Meghan didn’t like that one bit. What the hell was his problem? Maybe James hadn’t gotten laid last night after all.

“You kick that girl out yet, or are you sneaking away and leaving her for me to handle?” Meghan retorted, glad the island separated them. A flash of anger made her want to get in James’ face but that was a bad idea. Obviously James had seen something he didn’t like last night - something like Meghan with another guy. He was unpredictable when he was angry and getting close to now might end the way last night hadn’t: with a kiss.

Wait. Why was she thinking that James would kiss her? Why was he acting up all of a sudden?

“Right, like you could handle it!” he said too loudly. The comeback didn’t even make any sense.

“Shut up!” she hissed.

“Oh, she’s not fucking here, alright? I’m not gonna wake her!” James shouted.

Meghan didn’t think, she just saw red and said the first thing that popped into her mind.

“Not her, asshole. You’ll wake John.”

James froze. Outside he couldn’t move. Inside the flash of adrenaline that coursed through his veins was at least ten degrees below body temperature. That only happened when he got blindsided in a game, run over unexpectedly with no chance to defend himself. Meghan stood there, leaning forward with her hair all knocked loose, furious and glorious like some kind of Disney Princes. He charged past her, through the living room and right up the stairs to her room. His guest room. His goddamned house. James threw open the door.

The bed was empty.

“What the FUCK?” Meghan hollered, stomping slowly up the stairs behind him. She didn’t need to hurry, there was nothing to find. She could not fathom why James was even looking.

“Shit,” he said quietly. All that anger drained away and instantly James felt like a fool.

“What is the matter with you?” Meghan saw his shoulders slump and tried to reduce the vitriol in her voice.

“Nothing.” James pushed past her a second time and kept going right out of the house.
____

“Hey guys,” Steven said, tossing his gym bag against the wall. Coach Roberts had a few drills lined up and ready to go. John was stretching, James was tying his sneakers.

“Hey,” John answered. He was relieved to hear a friendly voice. James had barely grunted hello and been quiet since. John figured the girl in the bad dress had given him a run for it last night. Nothing like a horrible, vomit-inducing workout to look forward to after that.

Robs started them weights, then spaced in some cardio. It ramped up as the workout went on, broken up by a few core exercise like bridges and squats. Before long, John was short of breath but his whole body was warm. Mostly the guys were focused during their workouts and Robs kept the chatter to a minimum, like an army captain. John looked over at James a few times - Neal hadn’t taken his eyes off the equipment once. When they got their first break, John tossed him a water.

“Okay, man?”

James had spent the last thirty minutes trying to exhaust himself of the desire to punch Tavares in the jaw. Everything about him oozed goody-two-shoes, from the way he laughed at all Robs’ jokes to the way he gave the other guys waters before ever getting his own. It was laughable, what a patsy. A patsy who’d had his hands all over Meghan last night.

Not all over, James told himself. They hadn’t even been touching on the dance floor, which was still a concept as mindblowing as subatomic particles or Jeremy Roenick’s horrible ties. In fact, big fat nothing had happened between them. Or probably ever would. So why did James feel like he could put the weight sled through a wall?

“Just tired.” James said.

“Fun time last night, eh? You end up with that girl?”

Bile rose in James’ throat. He’d pushed too hard on an empty stomach and a bad night’s sleep and they still had an hour and a half to go. He gagged it down, swigged some water. He’d have poured it over his brain to wash away the memory of that chick.

“No, not last night,” he tried to sound normal.

“Hmm. Next time,” John said.

This fucking optimist, James thought. He gave John a tight smile, got a bigger one in return. From the looks of it, John wanted to talk about last night. Probably wanted to ask James if he could take Meghan on a date and stay out past curfew, like he was her damned father. John would roll up with a corsage and ask James to take their picture for the yearbook.

Barrrrrrrrrrrrrf.

Robs’ barked an order. James gratefully got back in line.
____

The workout ended one minute before James was sure he would die. He’d given it everything out of sheer anger but it hadn’t been enough and Roberts had ridden him hard. James hated being called out in front of the other guys. They shrugged it off though - everyone had big nights, that’s what summer was for. In the locker room, Steven peeled off his soaked shirt.

“We still a go for that party this weekend? Saturday night?”

James had nearly forgotten suggesting it. Sunday was their day off. Surely by then he’d have stuffed his crazy into a box, made up with Meghan and be back to normal. Besides, the reasonable - albeit small - part of James’ brain wanted to keep his friends close and his enemies closer. If Tavares was into Meghan, he could fall into either category. Better keep him around.

“Yeah, Saturday. Spread the word.”

“Cool. I’m gonna try to bring that girl from the photoshoot.”

“What’s her name? Kayla?” John asked.

“Kaylynn,” Steven corrected, remembering how he’d said it wrong himself the first time.

John just made a face. “Oooooh.”

“Don’t get too excited,” Steven laughed. “She might need some convincing.”

Swapping his nasty shirt for a fresh one, John stuffed everything into his backpack. The party was two nights away but he didn’t want to wait that long to see Meghan. Leaving her last night, saying goodbye in a group of people, had felt hollow. John told himself that nothing would happen between them, but he still wanted to be around her. And he still believed something might happen. Now to invent a reason....

John turned to ask James what he was up to later. Neal was already gone.
____

Lucy took one look at the shredded straw wrapper on the table and said, “Uh oh.”

Meghan didn’t even glance up. She’d been waiting in the coffeeshop for thirty minutes, having run every errand she could think of and refusing to return to James’ house without some kind of plan. He’d be home from the gym any minute and Meghan did not want to be there for it.

“What?” Lucy was one of her closest friends from growing up, and they’d gotten even closer as other people moved away. Most only went to Toronto, but Whitby seemed awfully far from the City when you looked back. “Is it James?”

That drew Meghan’s stare. “Why would you think that?”

Lucy leaned back; her short, dark blond curls shaking. “Just a guess.”

“But why?” Meghan asked.

“Uh, because you live with him and he’s insanely hot and I think yours are the only pants in town he hasn’t been in?” she tried.

With a sigh, Meghan put her head down on the table.

“Oh my God, is that it? Did you sleep with him?!” Lucy hissed, leaning closer.

“No! Nothing happened between us.” Meghan sat up. “Well, something did. We had a fight this morning.”

“About...?”

“I don’t know! Right off the bat he seemed grumpy, said he didn’t realize I had come home last night. Of course he didn’t realize it, he was sexually assaulting some chick on the dance floor! But he was really... mad, or something.”

“Did he bring the girl home?”

“I don’t think so, I didn’t see her,” Meghan answered.

“Maybe she turned him down,” Lucy said. She made a face. “No, that’s unlikely. Maybe she barfed on him? Passed out too soon and he’s got blue balls?”

Meghan shrugged. “Maybe.”

Lucy was not buying it. Meghan was usually so happy-go-lucky and a minor spat was to be expected between roommates. She hadn’t been living with James very long but they’d been friends for ages. Lucy had seen them argue before. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Meghan chewed the inside of her lip. She wanted and didn’t want to talk about it in equal parts, which is why she’d called Lucy. If the story stood on it’s own Lucy would accept it. If there were holes - well, obviously there were. Just as Meghan suspected.

“I think he’s jealous.”

Lucy closed her eyes suddenly and folded her hands. She stayed that way until Meghan asked, “What are you doing?”

“Praying that James is jealous because you slept with Stamkos. Or Del Zotto. But really, really hoping for Stamkos.”

Meghan slapped her friend on the arm. “I did not!”

Lucy sighed heavily and opened her eyes, giving Meghan a look of utter disappointment. “Lying is a sin, my child.”

“It wasn’t Steven!”

“Whoop!” Lucy moved in so hard her chair squeaked across the floorboards. “I knew it was another guy! Who then?”

“I didn’t sleep with anyone!” Meghan whispered sharply, since other people had turned toward the noise. “I’ve just been... flirting. With this other friend of theirs.”

“Subban,” Lucy guessed.

“No.”

“Skinner.”

“No!” Meghan gasped. “He’s like fourteen years old!”

“Older than Landeskog and don’t you look me in the face and say you wouldn’t ring that like a bell.”

“Why haven’t you slept with James yet?” Meghan replied sarcastically.

“Just in case he is your one true love because it would be weird when I talk about it in a drunken speech at your wedding,” she said flippantly. “But don’t change the subject.”

Meghan swirled the straw in her drink. Lucy knew hockey. She would know the name.

“Tavares.”

Blank stare.

“John Tavares?” Meghan repeated.

Lucy’s face did not change. “From the Islanders?”

Meghan nodded.

“Is he hot?” she asked.

“Lucy, you know who he is!” Meghan slapped the table. “He got nominated for the Hart. You watched the Penguins playoffs. He was in the scoring race with Steven and James for the whole first half of the season.”

“I know who he is , I’m trying to picture him.”

Meghan rolled her eyes. “Six feet tall, two hundred pounds, brown hair, brown eyes.”

“What did he, mug you? That’s the kind of description you give the cops.”

“Aagghh, fine.” Meghan ran through her mental file on John - it wasn’t long, she’d only really met him a few times. At the gym, well, that wasn’t a normal circumstance. Then they’d laid around the pool, hung out at the bar. Nearly kissed a few times... Meghan decided to leave that out. She went with, “Deep voice, dorky laugh, nervous around me, secretly hates being stuck on a shitty team.”

Lucy narrowed her eyes like she was staring off into the distance. “What else?”

“Uh, he’s an okay dancer, super polite, makes dorky jokes....”

“Oh boy,” Lucy interrupted. “You’re done for.”

“Wha - why?” Meghan stuttered.

“You said dorky twice. You love dorks.”

Meghan pushed a hand through her hair. This was a running joke between them. She didn’t like dorks so much as she liked nice guys and they tended to be a little square. Growing up around a lot of hockey players, every one had been trying to cash in on the promise of someday going to the NHL. It was no secret that half the League married their high school girlfriends and every girl in Whitby was determined to be on the right train. Boys with futures got whatever they wanted - except few of them actually made the NHL. At college, it had been boys with business degrees, trust funds, their daddy’s name on a classroom building or a law firm sign. Meghan had touched a few pans just to make sure they were hot, but knew enough not to get burned.

“I like good guys.”

“And John Tavares seems like as good as they come,” Lucy admitted.

“I thought you didn’t know....”

Lucy laughed. “Of course I do. I just wanted to hear how you would say it. Now I know why James is jealous.”

“Well he shouldn’t be. We’re just having fun, it’s harmless. And James and I are not a thing. We never will be and he knows it.”

Lucy reached for a menu. “You sure about that?”
____

“Hello?” James called as he opened the front door. Meghan’s car wasn’t there so it was a foolish hope anyway. He went to the kitchen, chugged a glass of water, then poured himself another and sat down at the table.

There was no explanation for his anger. Well, there was but James didn’t like it. Meghan was his friend - nothing more. While he frequently entertained the notion of hooking up with her, James knew that some things were for serious inquiries only. How could he spend the night with her? She lived across the damned hallway! Maybe that was his first mistake, inviting her to move in.

“No,” he said out loud. He loved having her around. She was fun and flirty, the guys adored her; she could cook and was relatively clean. There was something about a female presence after years of road trips and male roommates that James craved. It made his house a home.

He did not see her leave the bar last night. James had tried to distract himself by making out with the girl he met, but it just wasn’t happening. By the time he went back for his friends, most people had left. That only made him feel worse. Coming in too late after too many beers, James went to bed angry and woke up the same way.

Keys rattled in the door. James almost knocked over his glass.

“Hi,” Meghan said flatly. She hadn’t expected the welcome party; James sitting and waiting for her. Then she noticed he was still in sticky gym clothes, unshowered, with an empty water in front of him.

“Hi,” he answered. Seeing Meghan now only made James feel like more of an ass. She was such a nice, genuine person - one of the very few who didn’t want his money or his dick. Granted that was James’ stock in trade during the off-season, but it was strangely refreshing to find someone who was immune to his charm. “Uh, sorry about this morning.”

“Are we in a fight?” Meghan asked. She stepped closer, softening her voice. ”Are you mad at me for something?”

He couldn’t be mad at her for being great, even if it made other guys crazy about her. James shook his head no.

Meghan took a deep breath. She didn’t want to call things out - maybe, somehow, this wasn’t about John at all. Bringing John up would only make it about him. But there were things she needed to say.
“Look James. I like living with you and I’m grateful, I really am. But if being your roommate means you somehow think you get to run my life, I can find another place.”

“No, no,” he said quickly, getting to his feet. “Don’t leave. It was just a stupid argument.”

Meghan’s heart swelled a little at the look on James’ face. All pouty lips and long eyelashes and wide, blue-green eyes - he could really look sorry. Of course he used that angelic innocence to reel girls in all the time, but Meghan knew right now he meant it. Despite his soaked clothes, she walked over and wrapped her arms around his waist.

James eagerly hugged her back. He didn’t want to screw this up. It was just a little weird seeing someone encroach on territory that James himself hadn’t explored yet. Chances were, Tavares never would either. James reminded himself he was just keeping his friends close and his... challengers closer.

“Such a drama queen, Neal.”

He laughed. “I learned it from watching Crosby.”
____